Legendary & romantic tales of Indian historyCaunter, Hobart
History
Legendary & romantic tales of Indian history
Caunter, Hobart
India -- History -- Fiction
Some hours after the stranger’s rescue from the river, several horsemen
appeared on the other side; but seeing that the stream was not fordable
and too wide to cross with safety they retired. That very night the
Pariah’s guest complained of restlessness. His sleep was disturbed, his
throat parched, his pulse unequal and his skin dry. He lay upon some
withered grass in the corner of his preserver’s hovel, covered with
a shawl which he usually wore round his waist. By the morning he was
in a high fever; it augmented rapidly. For several days it increased
until he was in a state of delirium; in proportion as he grew worse the
starving family got better.
Among the things in the pack, belonging to the stranger, was a small
bag containing six thousand rupees in gold. When the provisions were
exhausted the Pariah took from this store what was necessary to obtain
the requisite nourishment for his family and his guest; this he
procured from the neighbouring town, but did not appropriate a rupee
beyond what their domestic exigencies demanded. He attended his guest
with a tenderness and attention inspired by his natural kindness of
heart and the obligations which he felt under to him for the salvation
of his family from starvation. His wife united her attention to his:
they feared for their benefactor’s life. They watched by him night and
day. His constitution at length overcame the fever, and he rapidly
recovered. When his senses returned, he blessed his preservers for
their attention. The Pariah placed his bag of money before him and
accounted for every piece that had been bestowed. The invalid was
several weeks under the humble roof of his preserver before he could
proceed on his way.
During his recovery, he had a full opportunity of witnessing the
character of his hosts. Both had recovered their natural health. The
wife was a small delicate creature, gentle, pretty, with a light
graceful figure, and an extremely placid countenance. The man was young
and vigorous, short but well knit, and exhibiting a frame capable of
great endurance. Their eldest child was a girl scarcely three years
old, and beautiful as a cherub. Nothing could exceed the perfect
symmetry of its little limbs, and both parents seemed to look with
pride upon the budding beauty of their offspring.
“My worthy host,” said the stranger one day to the Pariah, who was
seated beside him smoking a small portion of tobacco rolled up in a
plantain leaf, “I must shortly leave you. This humble dwelling has been
my security, as no one would think of seeking the fugitive in the hovel
of a Pariah. You have ministered to me during sickness with a kindness
which I never can either forget or repay.”
“Nay, our attentions have been more than repaid by preservation from
a terrible death, and had not that been the case they would have been
sufficiently requited in your high appreciation of them.”
“You know not whom you have harboured.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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