India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction; Love stories
Tessa turned upon him swiftly--wide horror in her eyes. "Is that your
way of telling me she is dead?" she said in a whisper.
"No, no, child!" Bernard's reply came with instant reassurance. "But she
has been--she still is--ill. She was upset, you know. Someone in a car
startled her."
"I know I was there." Tessa came close to him again, speaking in a tense
undertone; her eyes gleamed almost black. "It was the Rajah that
frightened her so--the Rajah--and my mother. I'm never going to ask God
to bless her again. I--hate her! And him too!"
There was such concentrated vindictiveness in her words that even
Bernard, who had looked upon many bitter things, was momentarily
startled.
"I think God would be rather sorry to hear you say that," he remarked,
after a moment. "He likes little girls to pray for their mothers."
"I don't see why," said Tessa rebelliously, "not if He hasn't given them
good ones. Mine isn't good. She's very, very bad."
"Then there's all the more reason to pray for her," said Bernard. "It's
the least you can do. But I don't think you ought to say that of your
mother, you know, even if you think it. It isn't loyal."
"What's loyal?" said Tessa.
"Loyalty is being true to any one--not telling tales about them. It's
about the only thing I learnt at school worth knowing." Bernard smiled
at her in his large way. "Never tell tales of anyone, Princess!" he
said. "It isn't cricket. Now look here! I've an awfully interesting
piece of news for you. Come quite close, and I'll whisper. Do you
know--last night--when Aunt Stella was lying ill, something happened. An
angel came to see her."
"An angel!" Tessa's eyes grew round with wonder, and bluer than the
bluest bluebell. "What was he like?" she whispered breathlessly. "Did
you see him?"
"No, I didn't. I think it was a she," Bernard whispered back. "And what
do you think she brought? But you'll never guess."
"Oh, what?" gasped Tessa, trembling.
Bernard's arm slipped round her, and Scooter with a sudden violent
effort freed himself, and was gone.
"Never mind! I can get him again," said Tessa. "Or Peter will. Tell
me--quick!"
"She brought--" Bernard was speaking softly into her ear---"a little
boy-baby. Think of that! A present straight from God!"
"Oh, how lovely!" Tessa gazed at him with shining eyes. "Is it here now?
May I see it? Is the angel still here?"
"No, the angel has gone. But the baby is left. It is Stella's very own,
and she is to take care of it."
"Oh, I hope she'll let me help her!" murmured Tessa in awe-struck
accents. "Does Uncle Everard know yet?"
"Yes. He and I got here in the night two or three hours after the baby
arrived. He was very tired, poor chap. He is resting."
"And the baby?" breathed Tessa.
"Mrs. Ralston is taking care of the baby. I expect it's asleep," said
Bernard. "So we'll keep very quiet."
"But she'll let me see it, won't she?" said Tessa anxiously.
"No doubt she will, Princess. But I shouldn't disturb them yet. It's
early you know."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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