The Road to Mandalay: A Tale of BurmaCroker, B. M. (Bithia Mary)
General
The Road to Mandalay: A Tale of Burma
Croker, B. M. (Bithia Mary)
British -- Burma -- Fiction; Drug abuse -- Fiction; Drug traffic -- Fiction
“Oh, yes I am,” she answered, rising; “it’s just a question of
will-power and holding out. It was good of you to come like this, but
now I’m afraid I must send you away. This is the time I always sit with
my aunt.” As she spoke she approached nearer to the long glass door
and, coming out of the gloom of the drawing-room, he saw by the
unsparing light the startling alteration in her appearance; she looked
so thin and worn, her eyes so large, her face so small—her whole
appearance wilted! When he thought of Mrs. Krauss, with her deadly
secret, her vampire hold on this girl; then of Krauss and his secret,
he could no longer restrain himself. All those influences which stir
the deepest emotions of the heart were silently operating on Shafto’s.
His face assumed a set expression and had grown suddenly pale.
“Sophy!” he exclaimed.
The word sent her heart galloping.
“I am sure you know that I—I adore you, but somehow I’ve never ventured
to tell you this till now——” He paused, as if the words stuck in his
throat, and meanwhile a huge brown insect of the bee tribe entered,
booming alarmingly, and knocking itself about the room. “But now I’ve
got to speak out and take risks. There is a terrible cloud over this
house—a cloud of shame! I know I am saying all this most awfully badly,
but I ask you to let me take you away from ‘Heidelberg.’” He broke off
abruptly and stood looking into her eyes.
Sophy, no longer pale, returned his gaze steadily. It was not now a
question of her aunt’s secret, but of her own future. She cared very
much for her companion—why deceive herself?—and with the instinct
common to her sex, had been aware of his feelings for a long time. All
the same, she could not desert her post. She put up her thin hand (it
was trembling, Shafto could see) with the gesture of one who was
thrusting aside temptation.
“I don’t understand about the cloud, but even so, my place is here.
Surely you will see that—and—I am, all the same, very—grateful. I”—her
voice shook and sank almost to a whisper—“I am glad that you care for
me.”
At this moment a curtain was hastily swung aside and Lily appeared.
“Missy, the mem-sahib asking for you now; please to come quickly,” and
with a swift glance at her “missy” obeyed; the _purdah_ fell heavily
behind her slim, white figure and Shafto was alone. His mission had
been fruitless, and yet when he rode away from “Heidelberg” in his
heart he carried the flower of Hope.
CHAPTER XXXIV
ALL IS OVER
That same evening, as Sophy was sitting alone in the veranda after
dinner, Lily ayah appeared, her fat arms uplifted in eloquent appeal.
“Oh, missy—you come with me—I think our mem-sahib soon, soon _die_!”
“Die!” exclaimed Sophy, springing to her feet.
“Yes, somehow these drug people are too clever—she has got cocaine. I
think that water man bring it; anyhow, mem-sahib has taken one big, big
dose, and lies as one gone from the world.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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