Christianity, Conversion to -- Fiction; India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
There had been a shower in the night, and the air was fresh and cool.
He jumped out at the back of the cart, without stopping the slowly
moving cattle, and strode forward with a superabundance of that
vitality which never seemed to fail him. The earth smelt sweet of
growing vegetation, and the rain had laid the dust and washed the
foliage. Here and there the scent from clusters of newly-opened
blossom on the roadside trees permeated the air. On either side of the
way spread cultivated fields and patches of garden, for the town was
not far off, unconfined by any visible boundary. Pomegranate bushes
showed vivid spots of manderin scarlet where the flower promised fruit.
All kinds of birds twittered and whistled and chirrupped in bush and
tree. Noisiest of all were the barbets that never ceased their
monotonous call.
Alderbury's eye lingered over every detail with an inborn joyousness
that put him in sympathy with all living creatures. The last mail from
England had brought him news that might change the current of his life
and bring him into new and wider fields. It would mean harder work
than ever; heavier responsibilities; greater liabilities that would
leave him if anything poorer rather than richer; but he was ready for
all and everything if---- Ah, that little if! there was so much behind
it. Prudence tried to reason and urged objections that were half true
and unproven. Was she sufficiently in sympathy with his work, with his
aims? Would she be a help? It would be fatal if she drew away and
separated her interests from his. The more he doubted the more blindly
he loved and desired; the more eager he was to know his fate.
The pale rays of the sun shot up above the horizon on the east, and the
white sheets of mist lying on the fields seemed to shiver and shrink as
the merciless sun-god sent forth his heralds to give warning of his
approach. Long-legged natives wrapped in rough black blankets strode
towards their tasks on the land, their brains still slumberous and
their bodies still inert with sleep. The cows and buffaloes followed
the herdsman to the town, stopping before the doors where the milk was
awaited for the early morning coffee. Leisurely and without haste
India awoke to its daily round free from the fever and fuss that marks
the day in the west.
Alderbury had the road to himself except for a municipal cart that
passed now and then with the load gathered from the streets in the
night. Behind him rumbled his own conveyance which he was out-walking
rapidly. The cattle had done the journey well, and he was earlier than
he dared to hope; yet for all that his walk, was quick and impetuous as
though he were drawn towards his goal in spite of himself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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