*CHAPTER VIII.*
_*THE INVITATION.*_
The night before Mr. Desborough's return to Noak-holly, he calledKathleen to him as he sat dreamily watching the glorious landscape as ifhe saw it not.
"Can my darling sing to me?" he said, softly humming the first notes ofa tune she had heard him sing in the old times, when Kathleen was "herdaddy's ae bairn," and the cot stood empty.
He put his arm round her waist, and taught her as he used to do, beatingtime with his other hand.
"Go bury thy sorrow, the world has its share, Go bury it deeply, go hide it with care."
She turned and looked in his face.
"Go on," he said, in the quiet, decided tone Kathleen always obeyed.
"Go think of it calmly, when curtained by night; Go tell it to Jesus, and all will be right."
She sang it after him, drawing a little closer, for her father was notoften like this, until they came to the last verse--
"Hearts growing a-weary with heavier woe, Now droop 'mid the darkness--go, comfort them, go! Go bury thy sorrows, let others be blest: Go give them the sunshine, tell Jesus the rest."
"Is my little girl too young to understand what that means?" he asked,stroking her hair.
"Yes, I do understand, papa," she answered thoughtfully.
"Your mother's sorrow is heavier than ours," he went on, "just becauseshe was Carly's mother; and Racy is pining for his twin-brother, justbecause he was his twin. It is that which makes him so techy andtroublesome. Will my Kathleen try to comfort them when I am gone?"
Instead of the promise he expected there came a rush of tears, so hotand bitter he was taken aback.
"What is the matter, my love?" he asked.
"The dreadful misery to think I let the wolf in!" she sobbed.
"We will bury all that," he answered. "It will not bring sunshine tomamma to see you crying. Think! what ought you to be to poor mamma?"
"Carly and Kathleen, too," she murmured. "But I can't undo it."
His arm went round her very closely; it answered her better than words.No fear of Kathleen talking to poor mamma about the wolves after thatnight. A new object was before her--how to give others the sunshine.
Her father had scarcely left them when Rattam's messenger arrived withthe promised bird, and an invitation to the Sahib Desborough to visitthe Rana at his castle. Aglar's mother, the Ranee, added her entreatiesthat the beebee, who had given her youngest son the little breastplateagainst the weather (which was endued with such a wonderful charm it hadhushed the noise in his breast and given him the vivacity of a panther)would let a grateful mother look upon her face and beg a similar charmfor her other son. "The women of your people, sahib," said the letter,which was evidently written by the tutor, "can come and go. It woulddemean ours to descend the stair of their own home; but they are dyingto see more of the wonderful magic the beebee Desborough possesses."
The Rana's peon or foot-soldier, who had brought the letter, stoodwatching Mrs. Desborough as if she were some superior being. He hadshuffled off his shoes as a mark of respect before he approached her,and now stood before her salaaming at every interval when she happenedto raise her eyes.
Of course there were a few crows strutting about the veranda, and littlefretful Racy was afraid of their sharp beaks. Kathleen was trying totempt them away by scattering crumbs. They were so tame they soon ranafter her to get them.
"More magic," thought the peon, bowing himself to the ground, as shecame near to him to look at the wonderful bird Rattam had sent her.
It was jet black, with a coat as glossy as satin, and a lovely dark eye,full of fun and intelligence. Its beak and claws were deep orange. Itwas looking about very curiously, pricking its ear to every sound.Kathleen drew her finger across the gilded wire of its cage, and itcalled out in a rich, sweet voice--a wonderfully rich voice, and yet anodd one--"Ram, Ram, baher!" just as he had heard Rattam and Aglar callto one another. The ayah told her it meant "God, God, brother!" whichis the Hindu way of speaking, just as English boys would say,"Good-morning, brother!"
With her nurse and her bird talking Indi, Kathleen thought she shouldsoon learn enough to understand Rattam if he came again.
Mrs. Desborough wrote her reply, and promised to visit the Ranee whenher husband returned.
Little mischievous Horace was fitting on the peon's slippers, and quiteready to dispute possession with the "man in petticoats," as he calledthe peon. Kathleen and the ayah pursued him half round the veranda. Theywould not have got the slippers away then without a roar, if Kathleen'swonderful bird had not begun to make a creaking sound, like a rustyhinge, which it imitated exactly, and then as suddenly changed its noteto the cheerful crowing of a cock. This diverted Horace amazingly. Thepeon recovered his slippers, put up his umbrella, and departed with theEnglish beebee's answer.
But there was many a long day to wait before the visit could be paid.Mrs. Desborough was glad, for she had no heart for visits, although shethought it only right to go, as no one but a lady is scarcely everpermitted to enter the homes of the higher classes of Hindus. In themeanwhile the invigorating air of the hills was restoring the childrento health and spirits. Mrs. Desborough hoped Horace would forget someof his provoking sayings, which he had caught up on the journey.
The Thibetan milkmaid had gone away to her own people before Kathleencould persuade her mother to go and talk to her.
But Kathleen would describe the dark-skinned woman, with her dirty ragsand glittering beads, so earnestly and so frequently, that her motherbegan to suspect there was something more she had not told her. "Well?"she would say questioningly; and then Kathleen would stop short,remembering her father's words.
Mrs. Desborough asked the ayah what the Thibetan had said.
"Nothing, nothing," was the quick reply. "We only tried to comfort thelittle beebee, and stop her tears, that fell like evening rain."
The ayah was frightened, for her mistress turned pale and faint at themost distant allusion to her dreadful loss. So she led the childrenaway, and filled their pinafores with rice to feed the fishes.
Whilst Horace was throwing it by handfuls into the basin of thefountain, which was soon a moving mass of heads and tails, the ayah drewKathleen away.
"Look at the mem-sahib," she whispered, so that Horace should not hear."It is the cry for the lost one shut in her heart that hurts. Don'twake it."
Kathleen hung her head; for the first time in her life it seemed wrongto speak out all her thoughts to her mother. But the hope still livedon--Carl would some day be found. It helped her to fulfil her father'sparting charge, and try to give the sunshine to Horace and her mother.The dry heat of May gave place at last to the sultry, oppressive damp ofthe rainy season; and Mrs. Desborough began to long for home.