CHAPTER XI.
FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.
After short silence then, And summons sent, the great debate began.
A body constituted of as discordant elements as the three members of theSalt Board was not likely to remain very long at peace with itself; andfor weeks past, Blunt's increasing truculence of deportment had warnedhis colleagues of an approaching outbreak.
Since his successful raid upon the Board's accounts this gentleman hadmade the lives of Fotheringham and Cockshaw a burden to them. Hisinsatiable curiosity plunged in the most ruthless manner into matterswhich the others knew instinctively would not bear investigation. Heproposed reforms in an offhand manner which made poor Fotheringham'shair stand on end; and the very perusal of his memoranda was more thanCockshaw's industry could achieve. He had a sturdy cob on which he usedto ride about in the mornings, acquiring health and strength to bedisagreeable the entire day, and devising schemes of revolution as hewent. Poor Cockshaw's application for the Carraways had been refused;General Beau had got the appointment and was actually in course of aseries of valedictory visits to various ladies whom he believedbroken-hearted at his departure. Fotheringham grew greyer and sadder dayby day and prepared himself as best he might to meet the blows of fatein an attitude of dignified martyrdom. Matters at last reached a crisisin a proposal of Blunt's, brought out in his usual uncompromisingfashion and thrust upon the Board, as Fotheringham acknowledged with ashudder, with a horrid point-blank directness which rendered evasion andsuppression (the only two modes of dealing with questions which hisexperience had taught him) alike impossible. In the first place Bluntdemonstrated by statistics that not enough salt was produced at theRumble Chunder quarries to enable the inhabitants to get enough to keepthem healthy. Nothing could be more convincing than his figures: so manymillions of people--so many thousands of tons of salt--so much saltnecessary per annum for each individual, and so forth. Then Blunt wenton to show that the classes of diseases prevalent in the Sandy Tractswere precisely those which want of salt produces; then he demonstratedthat there was wholesale smuggling. From all this it followed obviouslythat the great thing wanted was to buy up existing interests, developthe quarries, improve the roads, and increase the production. If thiswere done salt might be sold at a rate which would bring it within thereach of all classes, and yet the gains of Government would beincreased. This was Blunt's view. The opposite party urged that to varythe salt-supply would interfere with the laws of political economy,would derange the natural interaction of supply and demand (this was oneof Fotheringham's favourite phrases), would depress internal trade,paralyse existing industries, cause all sorts of unlooked-for resultsand not benefit the consumer a whit; and that, even if it would, readymoney was not to be had at any price. Blunt, however, was not to be putoff with generalities and claimed to record his opinions, that hiscolleagues should record theirs, and that the whole matter should besubmitted to the Agent. Cockshaw gave a suppressed groan, lit a cheroot,and mentally resolved that nothing should tempt _him_ into writing amemorandum, or, if possible, into allowing anybody else to do so. 'ForGod's sake,' he said, 'don't let us begin minuting upon it; if thematter must go to Empson, let us ask him to attend the Board, and haveit out once for all.' Now Mr. Empson was at this time Agent atDustypore. The custom was that he came to the Board only on very solemnoccasions, and only when the division of opinion was hopeless; then hesat as Chairman and his casting-vote decided the fortunes of the day.
The next Board day, accordingly, Empson appeared, and it soon becameevident that Blunt was to have his vote.
Fotheringham was calm, passive, and behaved throughout with the air of aman who thought it due to his colleagues to go patiently through withthe discussion, but whose mind was thoroughly made up. The fight soonwaxed vehement.
'Look,' said Blunt, 'at the case of cotton in the KutchpurwaneeDistrict.'
'Really,' said Fotheringham, 'I fail to see the analogy between cottonand salt.' This was one of Fotheringham's stupid remarks, whichexasperated both Empson and Blunt and made them flash looks ofintelligence across the table at each other.
'Then,' Blunt said with emphasis, 'I'll explain the analogy. Cotton wastwopence-halfpenny per pound and hard to get at that. What did we do? Welaid out ten lakhs in irrigation, another five lakhs in roads, a vastdeal more in introducing European machinery and supervision; raised thewhole sum by an average rate on cotton cultivation--and what is theresult? Why, last year the outcome was more than double what it wasbefore, and the price a halfpenny a pound lower at least.'
'And what does that prove?' asked Fotheringham, who never could be madeto see anything that he chose not to see; 'As I said before, where isthe analogy?' Blunt gave a cough which meant that he was utteringexecrations internally, and took a large pinch of snuff. Fotheringhamlooked round with the satisfied air of a man who had given a clencher tohis argument, and whose opponents could not with decency profess anylonger to be unconvinced.
'I am against it,' said Cockshaw, 'because I am against everything. Weare over-governing the country. The one thing that India wants is to belet alone. We should take a leaf out of the books of ourpredecessors--collect our revenue, as small an one as possible, shun allchanges like the devil--and let the people be.'
'That is out of the question,' said Empson, whom thirty years ofofficialdom had still left an enthusiast at heart; '"Rest for India" isthe worst of all the false cries which beset and bewilder us; it means,for one thing, a famine every ten years at least; and famines, you know,mean death to them and insolvency to us.'
'Of course,' said Fotheringham, sententiously, with the grand air ofAEolus soothing the discordant winds; 'when Cockshaw said he was againsteverything, he did not mean any indifference to the country. But we arerunning up terrible bills; you know, Empson, we got an awful snubbingfrom home about our deficit last year.'
'Well, but now about the Salt,' put in Blunt, whose task seemed to be tokeep everybody to the point in hand; 'this is no question of deficit. Isay it will pay, and the Government of India will lend us the money fastenough if they can be made to think so too.'
'Well,' said Cockshaw, stubbornly lighting another cheroot, and gettingout his words between rapid puffs of smoke, 'it won't pay, you'll see,and Government will think as I do.'
'Then,' replied Blunt, 'you will excuse me for saying Government willthink wrong, and you will have helped them. Have you examined thefigures?'
'Yes,' said Cockshaw, with provoking placidity, 'and I think them, likeall other statistics, completely fallacious. You have not been out here,Blunt, as long as we have.'
'No; but the laws of arithmetic are the same, whether I am here or not.'
'Well,' observed Fotheringham, 'I really do not see--forgive me, pray,for saying it--but, as senior member, I may perhaps be allowed theobservation--I really do not see how Blunt can pretend to know anythingabout our Salt.'
'There is one thing I know about it,' said Blunt to Empson as they drovehome together from the Board; 'whatever it is, it is not Attic!'
While thus the battle raged within, Desvoeux, who had come with theAgent to the Board, took an afternoon's holiday, and found himself, byone of those lucky accidents with which Fortune favours everyflirtation, in Mrs. Vereker's drawing-room, where Maud had just arrivedto have luncheon and to spend the afternoon.
Now Mrs. Vereker was a beauty, and, as a beauty should, kept a littlecourt of her own in Dustypore, which in its own way was quite asdistinct an authority as the Salt Board or the Agency itself. Her claimsto sovereignty were considerable. She had the figure of a sylph, hairgolden and profuse and real. She had lovely, liquid, purple eyes, intowhich whoever was rash enough to look was lost forthwith; and asmile--but as to this the position of the present chronicler, as amarried man and the father of a family, renders it impossible for him todescribe it as it deserved. Suffice it to say that, even in a fadedphotograph, it has occasioned the partner of his bosom the acutestpangs, and it would be bad taste and inexpedient t
o say more than thatgentlemen considered it bewitching, while many married ladies condemnedit as an unmeaning simper of a very silly woman.
Mrs. Vereker affected to be greatly surprised at Desvoeux's arrival, andeven to hesitate about letting him in; but the slight constraint of hermanner, and the flush that tinged her cheek, suggested the suspicionthat the call was not altogether fortuitous.
'How provoking,' she said, when Desvoeux made his appearance, 'that youshould just come this morning to spoil our _tete-a-tete!_ Don't youfind, Miss Vernon, that whatever one does in life, there is invariably aman _de trop?_'
'No,' cried Desvoeux gaily; 'Providence has kindly sent me to rescue youboth from a dull morning. Ladies have often told me that under suchcircumstances it is quite a relief to have a man come in to break theeven flow of feminine gossip. Come, now, Miss Vernon, were you notpleased to see my carriage come up the drive?'
'No, indeed,' said Maud; 'nothing could be more _mal a propos_. Mrs.Vereker was just going to show me a lovely new Paris bonnet, and now,you see, we must wait till you are gone!'
'Then, indeed, you would hate me,' answered Desvoeux; 'but happily thereis no necessity for that, as I happen to be a connoisseur in bonnets,and Mrs. Vereker would not be quite happy in wearing one till I hadgiven my approval. She will go away now, you will see, and put it on forus to look at.'
'Is not he conceited?' said Mrs. Vereker, raining the influence of abewitching smile upon her guests, and summoning, as she could atpleasure, the most ingenuous of blushes to her cheeks; 'he thinks he isquite a first-rate judge of everything.'
'Not of _everything_,' said the other, 'but of some things--Mrs.Vereker's good looks, for instance--yes, from long and admiringcontemplation of the subject! It would be hard indeed if one could nothave an opinion about what has given one so much pleasure, and, alas! somuch suffering!'
Desvoeux said this with the most sentimental air, and Mrs. Verekerseemed to take it quite as a matter of course.
'Poor fellow!' she said; 'well, perhaps I will show you the bonnet afterall, just to console you; am I not kind?'
'You know,' said Desvoeux, 'that you are dying to put it on. Pray deferyour and our delectation no longer!'
'Rude and disagreeable person!' cried the other, 'Suppose, Miss Vernon,we go off and look at it by ourselves and have a good long chat, leavinghim alone here to cultivate politeness?'
'Yes,' cried Maud, 'let us. Here, Mr. Desvoeux, is a very interestingreport on something--Education--no, Irrigation--with nice tables andplenty of figures. That will amuse you till we come back.'
'At any rate, don't turn a poor fellow out into such a hurricane asthis,' said Desvoeux, going to the window and looking into the garden,where by this time a sand-storm was raging and all the atmosphere thickand murky with great swirls of dust. 'I should spoil my complexion andmy gloves, and very likely be choked into the bargain.'
'But it was just as bad when you came, and you did not mind it.'
'Hope irradiated the horizon,' cried Desvoeux; 'but it was horrible. Ihave a perfect horror of sand--like the people in "Alice," you know--
They wept like anything to see Such quantities of sand. "If this were only cleared away," They said, "it would be grand." "If seven maids with seven mops Swept it for half a year, Do you suppose," the Walrus said, "That they could get it clear?" "I doubt it," said the Carpenter, And shed a bitter tear.
And I shall shed a bitter tear if you send me away. At any rate, let mestay to lunch, please, and have my horses sent round to the stable.'
'Shall we let him?' cried Mrs. Vereker teasingly. 'Well, if you do, youwill have nothing but poached eggs and bottled beer. There is a littlepudding, but only just big enough for Miss Vernon and me.'
'I will give him a bit of mine,' said Maud. 'I vote that we let himstay, if he promises not to be impertinent.'
'And I will show him my bonnet,' cried the other, whose impatience todisplay her new finery was rapidly making way. 'It is just as well tosee how things strike men, you know, and my _caro sposo_, among histhousand virtues, happens to be a perfect ignoramus on the point ofdress. He knows and cares nothing about all my loveliest things.'
'Except,' said Desvoeux, 'how much they cost. Well, there is a practicalside which somebody must know about, I suppose, and a husband is justthe person; but it is highly inartistic.'
'How did you know that I was here?' Maud asked, when Mrs. Vereker hadleft the room. 'And why are you not at the Agency doing your lessons?'
'Because we have an aviary of little birds at the Agency,' answeredDesvoeux, his manner instantly becoming several shades quieter and moreaffectionate, 'and one of them came and sung me a tune this morning,and told me to go and take a holiday and meet the person I like the bestin the world.'
'Now,' said Mrs. Vereker, gleefully re-entering the room, with a clusterof lace and flowers artistically poised upon her shapely little head,'is not that a duck, and don't I look adorable?'
'Quite a work of art,' cried Desvoeux, with enthusiasm. 'Siren! why,already too dangerously fair, why deck yourself with fresh allurementsfor the fascination of a broken-hearted world? I am convinced SaintSimon Stylites would have come down from his pillar on the spot if hecould but have seen it!'
'And confessed himself a gone coon from a moral point of view,' laughedMrs. Vereker, despoiling herself of the work of art in question. 'Andnow let us have some lunch; and mind, Mr. Desvoeux, you can only have avery little, because, you see, we did not expect you.'
Afterwards, when it was time for Maud to go, it was discovered that nocarriage had arrived to take her home. 'What can I do?' she said, indespair. 'Felicia will be waiting to take me to the Camp. Georgepromised to send back his office-carriage here the moment he got to theBoard.'
'Then,' said Desvoeux, with great presence of mind, 'he has obviouslyforgotten it, and I will drive you home. Let me order my horses; theyare quite steady.'
Maud looked at Mrs. Vereker--she felt a burning wish to go, and neededbut the faintest encouragement. Felicia would, she knew, be not wellpleased; but then it was George's fault that she was unprovided for, andit seemed hardly good-natured to reject so easy an escape from theembarrassment which his carelessness had produced.
'I would come and sit in the back seat, to make it proper,' cried Mrs.Vereker, 'but that I am afraid of the sun. I tell you what: I willdrive, and you can sit in the back seat, Mr. Desvoeux; that will docapitally.'
'Thank you,' said Desvoeux, with the most melancholy attempt atpoliteness and his face sinking to zero.
'Indeed, that is impossible!' cried Maud. 'I know you want to stay athome. I will go with Mr. Desvoeux.' And go accordingly they did, and onthe way home Desvoeux became, as was but natural, increasinglyconfidential. 'This is my carriage,' he explained, 'for driving marriedladies in: you see there is a seat behind--very far behind--and wellrailed off, to put the husbands in and keep them in their properplace--quite in the background. It is so disagreeable when they leanover and try to join in the conversation; and people never know whenthey are _de trop_.'
'Ah, but,' said Maud, 'I don't like driving with you alone. I hear youare a very terrible person. People give you a very bad character.'
'I know,' answered her companion; 'girls are always jilting me andtreating me horribly badly, and then they say that it is all my fault. Idare say they have been telling you about Miss Fotheringham's affair,and making me out a monster; but it was she that was alone to blame.'
'Indeed,' said Maud, 'I heard that it made her very ill, and she had tobe sent to England, to be kept out of a consumption.'
'This was how it was,' said Desvoeux; 'I adored her--quite adored her; Ithought her an angel, and I think her one still, but with one defect--asort of frantic jealousy, quite a mania. Well, I had a friend--ithappened to be a lady--for whom I had all the feelings of a brother. Wehad corresponded for years. I had sent her innumerable notes, letters,flowers, presents, you know. I had a few things that she had given me--ano
te or two, a glove, a flower, a photograph, perhaps--just the sort ofthing, you know, that one sends----'
'To one's brother,' put in Maud. 'Yes; I know exactly.'
'Yes,' said Desvoeux, in the most injured tone, 'and I used to lend hermy ponies, and, when she wanted me, to drive her. And what do you thinkthat Miss Fotheringham was cruel, wild enough to ask? To give back allmy little mementoes to write no more notes, have no more drives; infact, discard my oldest, dearest friend!--I told her, of course, that itwas impossible, impossible!' Desvoeux cried, getting quite excited overhis wrongs: '"Cruel girl," I said, "am I to seal my devotion to you byan infidelity to the kindest, tenderest, sweetest of beings?" ThereuponMiss Fotheringham became quite unreasonable, went into hysterics, sentme back a most lovely locket which I had sent her only that morning; andFotheringham _pere_ wrote me the most odious note, in his worst style,declaring that I was trifling! Trifling, indeed! and to ask me to giveup my----'
'Your sister!' cried Maud; 'it was hard indeed! Well, here we are athome. Let me jump down quick and go in and get my scolding.'
'And I,' said Desvoeux, 'will go to the Agency and get mine.'
Stolen waters are sweet, however; and it is to be feared that these twoyoung people enjoyed their _tete-a-tete_ none the less for theconsideration that their elders would have prevented it if they had hadthe chance.