She had as yet no distinct interest of her own, and Bathurst’s earnestness had struck a cord in her own nature and seemed to open a wide area for thought. She put it aside now and chatted gayly with the Hunters and those who came up to the carriage, but it came back to her as she sat in her room before going to bed. Up till now she had not heard a remark since she had been in Cawnpore that might not have been spoken had the cantonments there been the whole of India, except that persons at other stations were mentioned. The vast, seething native population were no more alluded to than if they were a world apart. Bathurst’s words had for the first time brought home to her the reality of their existence, and that around this little group of English men and women lay a vast population, with their joys and sorrows and sufferings. At breakfast she surprised Mrs. Hunter by asking a variety of questions as to native customs. “I suppose you have often been in the Zenanas, Mrs. Hunter?” “Not often, my dear. I have been in some of them, and very depressing it is to see how childish and ignorant the women are.” “Can nothing be done for them, Mrs. Hunter?” “Very little. In time I suppose there will be schools for girls, but you see they marry so young that it is difficult to get at them.” “How young do they marry?” “They are betrothed, although it has all the force of a marriage, as infants, and a girl can be a widow at two or three years old; and so, poor little thing, she remains to the end of her life in a position little better than that of a servant in her husband’s family. Really they are married at ten or eleven.” Isobel looked amazed at this her first insight into native life. Mrs. Hunter smiled. “I heard Mr. Bathurst saying something to you about it yesterday, Miss Hannay. He is an enthusiast; we like him very much, but we don’t see much of him.” “You must beware of him, Miss Hannay,” Mr. Hunter said, “or he will inoculate you with some of his fads. I do not say that he is not right, but he sees the immensity of the need for change, but does not see fully the immensity of the difficulty in bringing it about.” “There is no fear of his inoculating me; that is to say of setting me to work, for what could one woman do?” “Nothing, my dear,” her uncle said; “if all the white women in India threw themselves into the work, they could do little. The natives are too jealous of what they consider intruders; the Parsees are about the only progressive people. While ladies are welcome enough when they pay a visit of ceremony to the Zenana of a native, if they were to try to teach their wives to be discontented with their lots--for that is what it would be--they would be no longer welcome. Schools are being established, but at present these are but a drop in the ocean. Still, the work does go on, and in time something will be done. It is of no use bothering yourself about it, Isobel; it is best to take matters as you find them.”