IN WHICH LADY MELTON RECEIVES A STRANGE VISITOR
However harassing and disturbing the
events of the past few days had been to the people
particularly interested in them, to the mind of one
the proceedings of all those with whom he had come
in contact had been characterised by an ignorance,
not only of the necessities of life, but even of the
very etiquette that lends a becoming dignity to existence,
which seemed almost pitiful. Not since the elephant
left his native shore had he received what he considered
to be proper, or even intelligent, attention.
On the voyage, indeed, though his quarters were crowded,
and denied by the proximity of low-caste beasts, his
material wants had been considered; but since yesterday,
when he had landed in the midst of a howling wilderness
of iron monsters, who could neither see nor hear and
were no respecters of persons, there had been a scarcity
even of food and water. All night he had been
dragged about the country at a speed unbecoming the
dignity of a ruler of the jungle (without even the
company of his mahout, who had lost the train at Southampton);
and, now that the earth had ceased to move past him
and was once more still, he expressed his opinion
of the ignorant and degraded people of this wretched
country in no uncertain voice. Then, finding
that the pen in which he was confined was cramped and
dirty, and wholly unfitted for one of his exalted
position, he exerted himself to be free, and in a
short time reduced his car to kindling-wood. Being
now at liberty, he naturally desired his breakfast;
but what was one to do when men disfigured the earth
with bars of steel over which one tripped, and stored
the fruits of the land in squat yellow bungalows, with
fluted iron roofs which were difficult to tear off?
Therefore the elephant lifted up his voice in rage,
whereat many things happened, and a high-caste man,
clad in the blue of the sky and the gold of the sun,
ran up and down upon the earth, and declared that
he should forthwith be taken to the “Court”
and delivered to the “Damconsul.”
What a “Damconsul” was
the elephant did not know; but concluded that it was
the title these barbarous people bestowed on the Maharajah
of that district. Since he lived at a Court,
it seemed certain that he would know how to appreciate
and fittingly entertain him. The elephant therefore
consented to follow his attendant slaves, though they
understood not the noble art of riding him, but were
fain to lead him like a beast of burden. On the
way he found a spring of sweet water, of which he
drank his fill, despite the protestations of his leaders
and the outcries of the inhabitants of the bungalow
of the well, whose lamentations showed them to be
of low caste and little sensible of the honour done
them.
The procession at length reached the
gate of the Court; and while the attendants were in
the lodge explaining matters to the astonished keeper,
the elephant, realising that “drink was good
but food better,” determined to do a little
foraging on his own account, and so moved softly off,
taking along the stake to which his keepers fondly
imagined he was tethered.
He judged that he was now in the park
of the Court of the “Damconsul”; and the
fact that there were many clumps of familiar plants
scattered over the grass increased his belief that
this was the case. He tried a few coleus and
ate a croton or two; but found them insipid and lacking
the freshness of those which bloomed in his native
land. Then turning to a grove of young palms,
he tore a number up by the roots; which he found required
no expenditure of strength, and so gave him little
satisfaction. Moreover, they grew in green tubs,
which rolled about between his feet and were pitfalls
for the unwary. He lay down on a few of the beds;
but the foliage was pitifully thin and afforded him
no comfortable resting-place; moreover, there were
curious rows of slanting things which glistened in
the sunlight, and which he much wished to investigate.
On examination he found them quite brittle, and easily
smashed a number of them with his trunk. Nor was
this all, for in the wreckage he discovered a large
quantity of most excellent fruit grapes
and nectarines and some very passable plums.
Evidently the “Damconsul” was an enlightened
person, who knew how to live; and, indeed, it is not
fitting for even an elephant to turn up his trunk at
espalier peaches at a guinea apiece.
Certainly, thought the elephant, things
might be worse. And after a bath in a neighbouring
fountain, which cost the lives of some two score of
goldfish, he really felt refreshed, and approached
the palace, which he considered rather dingy, in order
to pay his respects to its owner. Coming round
to the front of the building he discovered a marble
terrace, gleaming white in the sunshine, and flanked
by two groups of statuary Hercules with
his club, and Diana with her bow: though, being
unacquainted with Greek mythology, he did not recognise
them as such. On the terrace itself was set a
breakfast-table resplendent with silver and chaste
with fair linen; and by it sat a houri, holding a sunshade
over her golden head. The elephant, wishing to
conciliate this vision of beauty, advanced towards
her, trumpeting gently; but his friendly overtures
were evidently misinterpreted, for the houri, giving
a wild scream, dropped her sunshade, and fled for
safety to the shoulders of Hercules, from which vantage-point
she called loudly for help.
Feeling that such conduct was indecorous
in the extreme, he ignored her with a lofty contempt;
and, having tested the quality of the masonry, ventured
upon the terrace and inspected the feast. There
were more nectarines but he had had
enough of those and something steaming in
a silver vessel, the like of which he remembered to
have encountered once before in the bungalow of a
sahib. Moreover, he had not forgotten how it
spouted a boiling liquid when one took it up in one’s
trunk. At this moment a shameless female slave
appeared at a window, in response to the cries of
the houri, and abused him. He could not, it is
true, understand her barbarous language; but the tone
implied abuse. Such an insult from the scum of
the earth could not be allowed to pass unnoticed.
He filled his trunk with water from a marble basin
near at hand, and squirted it at her with all his
force, and the scum of the earth departed quickly.
“It would be well,” thought
the elephant, “to find the ‘Damconsul’
before further untoward incidents could occur”;
and with this end in view, he turned himself about,
preparatory to leaving the terrace. He forgot,
however, that marble may be slippery; his hind legs
suddenly slid from under him, and he sat hurriedly
down on the breakfast-table. It was at this singularly
inopportune moment that Lady Diana appeared upon the
scene.
Her ladyship awoke that morning to
what was destined to be the most eventful and disturbing
day of her peaceful and well-ordered life, with a
feeling of irritation and regret that it had dawned,
which, in the light of subsequent events, would seem
to have been almost a premonition of coming evil.
She was, though at this early hour she little knew
it, destined to receive a series of shocks of volcanic
force and suddenness, between sunrise and sunset,
any one of which would have served to overthrow her
preconceived notions of what life, and especially
life at Melton Court, ought to be.
As yet she knew nothing of all this;
but she did know that, though it was long after the
hour appointed, she had heard no sound of her great-niece’s
departing footsteps. She waited till she must
have missed the train, and then rang her bedroom bell
sharply to learn why her orders had been disobeyed.
“If you please, my lady,”
replied her maid in answer to her mistress’s
questions, “Bright did not go because we could
not find Mrs. Scarsdale.”
“Could not find my niece!
And why not, pray?” demanded her ladyship angrily.
“She was not in her room, my
lady, or anywhere about the Court; only this note,
directed to your ladyship, on her dressing-table.”
“Why didn’t you say so
to begin with, then?” cried her mistress testily.
“Open the window, that I may see what this means.”
The note was short and painstakingly
polite; but its perusal did not seem to please Lady
Diana, for she frowned and set her thin lips as she
re-read it. The missive ran as follows:
“DEAR LADY MELTON,
“I write to apologise for the
somewhat unconventional manner in which I am
leaving your house; but as your plans for my disposal
to-day did not accord with my own ideas of what
is fitting, I have thought it best to leave thus
early, and so avoid any awkwardness which might
arise from conflicting arrangements. I wish you
to know that I shall be with friends by this
evening, so that you need feel no anxiety about
my position. Pray accept my thanks for your hospitality,
which I am sure my husband will much appreciate, and
believe me,
“Yours respectfully,
“MABEL SCARSDALE.”
This communication her ladyship tore
up into small fragments, and then snapped out:
“Is there anything more?”
“Yes, if you please, my lady,”
replied the maid; “a note for you from Mr. Allingford,
left in his room.”
Lady Melton took it as gingerly as
if it were fresh from some infected district, and,
spreading it out on the bed before her, read it with
a contemptuous smile.
“YOUR LADYSHIP,” wrote
the Consul, “I have the honour to inform you
that I am leaving at the earliest possible moment,
not wishing to impose my company longer than
is absolutely necessary where it is so evidently
undesired. That there may be no burden of obligation
between us, I beg you to accept a trunk belonging
to me, which will arrive this morning, as compensation
for my board and lodging.
“I remain “Your Ladyship’s
Obedient Servant, “ROBERT ALLINGFORD, “U.S.
Consul, Christchurch, England.
“P.S. I
mail you to-day a deed of gift of the property in
question, legally attested,
so that there may be no question of
ownership.
“R. A.”
“Insolence!” gasped Lady
Melton, when she comprehended the contents of this
astonishing communication. Then turning to her
maid, she commanded:
“If this person’s trunk
arrives here, have it sent back to him instantly.”
And she fumed with rage at the thought.
“How dare he suppose that I
would for a moment accept a gratuity!”
Indeed, so wrought up was she that
it was with difficulty that she controlled herself
sufficiently to breakfast on the terrace. Moreover,
her interview with Bright, the butler, whom she encountered
on her way downstairs and who announced the arrival
of her great-nephew and a strange lady, was hardly
soothing; for it forced her to believe that that faithful
servant, after years of probity, had at last strayed
from the temperate paths of virtue. Seeing him
dishevelled and bewildered, she had sternly rebuked
him for his appearance, and from his disjointed replies
had only gathered that his astounding state was in
some way due to the Consul.
“Has that insolent person’s
trunk arrived?” she inquired; when, to her astonishment,
her old retainer, who had always observed in her presence
a respectful and highly deferential demeanour, actually
tittered.
“Bright!” she said sternly.
“Beg pardon, my lady,”
giggled Bright, his face still wreathed in smiles;
“but the way you put it.”
“What have you done with this
person’s belongings? Have my orders been
carried out?”
“You mean in regard to the the
“Trunk. Yes, let it be put off the place
immediately.”
“Please, your ladyship,”
he replied, with difficulty restraining his laughter,
“it won’t go.”
“Will not go?”
“No, my lady; it’s been
rampaging through the greenhouses, and is now on the
terrace, where it douched Anne most awful.”
“Leave me at once, Bright, and
do not let me see you again till you are in a more
decent state,” she commanded, and swept by him,
ignoring his protestations of innocence and respect.
She found Scarsdale awaiting her in
the reception-room, and accorded him a very frigid
greeting, suggesting that they should have their interview
on the terrace, where he had left Mrs. Allingford safely
ensconced in an armchair, while he went to meet his
great-aunt.
Her ladyship had been considerably
ruffled both by her interview with Bright and by the
arrival of Scarsdale, towards whom, in the light of
recent events, she felt a strong resentment; and a
vision of the Consul’s wife perched most indecorously
on the shoulders of Hercules, which she beheld as
she emerged on the terrace, did not tend to calm her
already excited nerves. But before she could speak
her eyes followed the direction of the unknown lady’s
gaze, and she saw, for the first time, her unwelcome
visitor.
When you come suddenly face to face
with an elephant seated amidst the wreck of cherished
Chippendale and ancestral Sevres, it is not calculated
to increase your composure or equalise your temper;
and Lady Diana may be pardoned, as the vastness of
the Consul’s impudence dawned upon her, for
giving vent to expressions both of anger and amazement,
albeit her appearance produced no less of a disturbance
in the breast of him who sat amidst the ruins of the
breakfast-table. The elephant felt that in the
presence of the Maharanee, for such he believed her
to be, his position was undignified. She was,
without doubt, the wife of the “Damconsul,”
and, as such, should be paid all proper respect and
deference. He, therefore, bowed his head in submission,
completing in the process his work of destruction.
Whereat Mrs. Allingford shrieked and clung more closely
to the protecting shoulders of Hercules.
Serious as the situation was, it was
not without its humorous side, and it took all Scarsdale’s
command of himself to control his face sufficiently
to address his relative with becoming respect.
“Why, aunt,” he said,
“I didn’t know that you had gone in for
pets!”
“Harold Stanley Malcolm St.
Hubart Scarsdale,” replied her ladyship she
prided herself on never forgetting a name “you
are one of the most impudent and worthless young men
that I have the honour to count among my relatives;
but you have been in India, and you ought to know how
to manage this monster.”
“I’ve seen enough of them,”
he answered. “What do you want him to do?”
“Do!” she cried wrathfully.
“I should think anybody would know that I wished
it to get up and go away.”
“Oh,” said he, and made
a remark in Hindustani to the elephant, whereat the
beast gradually and deliberately proceeded to rise
from the wreck of the breakfast, till he seemed to
the spectators to be forty feet high. Then, in
response to Scarsdale’s cries of “Mail!
mail!” (Go on) he turned himself about, and,
after sending the teapot through the nearest window
with a disdainful kick of one hind leg, he lurched
down the steps of the terrace and on to the lawn,
where he remained contentedly standing, gently rocking
to and fro, while he meditatively removed from his
person, by means of his trunk, the fragments of the
feast, with which he was liberally bespattered.
Scarsdale, seeing that his lordship
was in an amicable frame of mind, hastened to assist
Mrs. Allingford to descend from her somewhat uneasy
perch.
“St. Hubart,” said Lady
Melton, who, throughout this trying ordeal, had lost
none of her natural dignity, “you have done me
a service. I shall not forget it.”
Scarsdale thought it would be difficult
to forget the elephant.
“I will even forgive you,”
she continued, “for marrying that American.”
“It was so good of you to receive
my wife,” he said. “I trust you are
pleased with her.”
“I am not pleased at all,”
she said sharply. “I consider her forward
and disrespectful, and I am glad she is gone.”
“Gone!” he exclaimed.
“You may well be surprised,”
said his great-aunt, “but such is the case.”
“But where has she gone?”
“That I do not know; she left
without consulting me, and against my advice and wishes.”
“Did she go alone?”
“She went,” replied her
ladyship, “with one of the most insolent persons
it has ever been my misfortune to meet. He is
owner of that!” And she pointed to the elephant.
“But who is he?” demanded
Scarsdale, not recognising, from her description,
his friend the Consul.
“He disgraces,” she continued,
“a public office given him by a foreign Government.”
“You are surely not talking
about Allingford!” he exclaimed.
“That, I believe, is his name,” replied
Lady Melton.
“What, my husband!” cried
the Consul’s wife, who up to this point had
kept silence. “You dare to call my husband
a disgrace!” Here Mrs. Allingford
became dumb with indignation.
“If he is your husband,”
returned her ladyship, “I am exceedingly sorry
for you. As for ‘daring’ to apply
to him any epithet I please, I consider myself fully
justified in so doing after the indignity to which
he has condemned me. I am glad, however, to have
met you, as I am thus enabled to return you your husband’s
property, with the request that you take your elephant
and leave my grounds as quickly as possible.”
“Do you mean to say that my
husband owns that monster?” gasped Mrs. Allingford.
“Such is the case,” replied
Lady Melton, “and I leave it in your hands.
St. Hubart, I trust you will join me at breakfast
as soon as another can be prepared.”
“Excuse me,” he said apologetically,
“but really, you know, I can’t leave Mrs.
Allingford in the lurch. Besides, I must follow
my wife.”
His great-aunt faced round in a fury.
“That is sufficient!”
she cried. “Leave my presence at once!
I never desire to see either of you again.”
“Don’t let us part as
enemies, aunt,” he said, offering her his hand;
but she swept past him into the house.
Scarsdale gloomily watched her depart,
and then became conscious of a hand laid on his arm.
“I am so sorry!” murmured
Mrs. Allingford. “I only seem to bring you
trouble.”
“Oh, you mustn’t feel
badly about this,” he said. “We have
quarrelled ever since I was born. I’m much
more worried about you.”
“What am I going to do with
it?” she exclaimed, looking hopelessly at her
husband’s property as it stood rocking before
her.
“The first thing is to get it
off the place,” replied Scarsdale, assuming
a cheerfulness which he did not feel. “We
may find its keepers at the lodge, and we can make
our plans as we walk along.”
“Come on, Jehoshaphat, or whatever
you may happen to be called!” he cried, addressing
the elephant, and at the same time grasping the rope
bridle which still dangled from its neck; and the beast,
recognising a kindred spirit speaking to him in his
native tongue, followed docilely where he led.
“I think,” continued Scarsdale,
as they trudged slowly across the park, “that
our best course will be to take the elephant to Christchurch.
Indeed, we ought to have gone there in the first instance.”
“What do you expect to gain
by that?” she asked quickly, ready in this strange
dilemma to catch at any straw which gave opportunity
of escape.
“Why, your husband’s consulate
is situated there, and that is his local habitation
in this country, where he is certain to turn up sooner
or later, and where, if the laws of his consular service
are anything like ours, he would be obliged to report
every few days.”
“You propose to go there and await his return?”
“Yes,” he said. “I
don’t see that we can do better. Ten to
one your husband and my wife will hear of our affair
at Winchester, and may be on their way there now to
hunt us up; while if we attempted to follow them,
it is more than likely that they would return here.
I, for one, am about tired of chasing myself around
the country; as a steady occupation it is beginning
to pall.”
“There is a group of men at
the lodge,” she said, as they drew near the
gates with the elephant in tow.
“Then let us hope that there
are some station people among them, and that we can
arrange for Jehoshaphat’s transportation without
loss of time,” replied Scarsdale.
His hope was, in the first instance,
justified; for the station-master at Salisbury, learning
of the Consul’s early departure that morning,
and beginning to doubt the wisdom of inflicting the
elephant on so important a personage as Lady Melton,
had come up to the Court himself to see how things
were going, and had been horrified beyond measure at
the exaggerated reports of the lodgekeeper as to the
havoc the beast had created. He was therefore
unfeignedly relieved at Scarsdale’s arrival;
a relief, however, which instantly gave way to stubborn
opposition at the first hint of putting the animal
again in his charge.
Elephants were not in his line, he
pointed out, and he had no desire to transport them
about the country. Couldn’t think of acting
without receiving advices from the main offices of
the railway company in London, an affair of several
days; wouldn’t assume charge of the creature
during the interval on any account; and shouldn’t
stir a step in the matter till the wrecked van had
been paid for.
This ended the affair, as far as Scarsdale
was concerned. He had no intention of paying
damages for the Consul’s elephant, but he wished
to deliver it and the Consul’s wife at Christchurch
as soon as possible. If this could not be accomplished
one way, it must be another. There were plenty
of horses and carriages to be had; indeed, the landau
and pair which had brought them from Salisbury was
still at the gates. The roads were good, the
distance to Christchurch was not excessive say
thirty miles and the elephant could walk.
It merely remained to find a leader or driver, and
they could start at once on their journey across country.
All this he explained to his fair
companion, and she readily acquiesced.
“The only problem to be solved,
then, is where to find a mahout,” he said in
conclusion.
She threw him an inquiring glance;
but he felt it was asking too much, and said so.
“If it were any other country,
I’d ride the beast myself to oblige you; but
in England, and as a representative of one of the first
families of the county, I couldn’t. The
prejudices of the locality would never recover from
the shock, and I should not be able to show my face
in the streets of Salisbury. But perhaps we can
find a substitute. Is there any one here,”
he went on, addressing the little group of men, “who
understands an elephant?”
“Tom, ‘e knows the bloomin’
beasts,” said a member of the company; and Tom,
groom to her ladyship, and cockney every inch of him,
was pushed forward for inspection.
One glance at the trim form, concealed
though it was by stable costume, was sufficient to
assure Scarsdale that he had found his man.
“You have been a soldier,” he said, “and
in India?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the
man, touching the peak of his cap in a military salute.
“Do you think you could manage
him?” continued Scarsdale, indicating the elephant,
which, wearied with the morning’s exertions,
had knelt down, and seemed on the point of taking
a nap.
“Do I think as ’ow I could
manage ’im? I should ’ope so, if I
ain’t fergot is ’eathen language, sir.”
“I’ll give you eighteen
pence a mile,” said Scarsdale, quick to act on
the man’s decision.
“Make it two bob, sir, an’ I’ll
ride ’im ter Inja.”
“That’s too far,”
he replied, laughing; “my pocket wouldn’t
stand the strain; but I’ll give you the price
to Christchurch.”
“Right you are,” replied
the hostler, closing the bargain at once. “Me
name’s Tom Ropes. What d’yer call
’im, sir?” pointing to his recumbent charge.
“I don’t know what he
was christened. I call him Jehoshaphat.”
“A Christian name fer a
’eathen brute,” commented Tom. “Give
me a leg up, one er yer.”
Once astride the beast’s neck,
with Scarsdale’s cane as an improvised ankus,
he poured out a flood of cockney-Indian jargon which
no Hindoo could ever have recognised as his native
tongue, but which evidently had a familiar sound to
the elephant, who proceeded to rise, first with his
fore feet and then with his hind feet; after which
his novel mahout, who throughout these manoeuvres
had retained a precarious hold by one ear, hastened
to seat himself more firmly upon him.
“All right?” queried Scarsdale,
looking up; and on receiving an answer in the affirmative,
added: “Keep your feet well under his ears,
and hit him on the head with your stick if he gets
fractious. All you need do is to follow our carriage.
Trust to his judgment about bridges; he knows what
will hold him.”
Arrangements, on a liberal scale,
having been made for the use of the conveyance which
had brought them from the station, they were ready
to start in a very short space of time; Scarsdale
stipulating that they head towards Southampton, taking
the least travelled roads, and in any event giving
Salisbury a wide berth. This was agreed to; and
thereupon commenced one of the most extraordinary
progresses that had ever stirred up a staid and conventional
countryside: Scarsdale and Mrs. Allingford leading
off in the landau, since it was necessary to keep the
horse well in front of the elephant, and Tom and his
charge plodding on in their wake.
As they left the lodge behind them
and came out into the open country, the Consul’s
wife, turning to her companion in misfortune, said,
between tears and smiles:
“What do you think is going to happen next?”