CHAPTER XIV.
TO THE HILLS!
However marred, and more than twice her years, Scarred with an ancient sword-cut on the cheek, And bruised and bronzed,--she lifted up her eyes, And loved him with that love which was her doom.
Summer was beginning to come on apace; not summer as English people knowit, the genial supplement to a cold and watery spring, with just enoughheat about it to thaw the chills of winter out of one; but summer in itsfiercest and cruellest aspect, breathing sulphurous blasts, glowing withintolerable radiance, begirt with whirlwinds of dust--the unsparingdespot of a sultry world. The fields, but a few weeks ago one great'waveless plain' of ripening corn, had been stripped of their finery,and were now lying brown and blistering in the sun's eye. The dust laydeep on every road and path and wayside shrub, and seized everyopportunity of getting itself whirled into miniature siroccos. More thanonce Maud and Felicia had been caught, not in a sweet May shower,stealing down amid bud and blossom and leaving the world moist and freshand fragrant behind it, but in rough, turbulent clouds of rushing sand,which shut out the sunshine and replaced the bright blue atmosphere withthe lurid glare of an eclipse. Felicia's flowers had begun to droop, norcould all her care rescue the fresh green of her lawn from turning to adingy brown. Already prudent housekeepers were busy with preparationsagainst the evil day so near at hand. Verandahs were guarded with foldsof heavy matting, to shut out the intolerable light that would haveforced a way through any ordinary barrier; windows were replaced byfragrant screens of cuscus-grass, through which the hot air passingmight lose a portion of its sting; and one morning, when Maud came out,she found a host of labourers carrying a huge winnowing-machine to oneside of the house, the object of which was, Vernon informed her, tomanufacture air cool enough for panting Britons to exist in.
Day by day some piece of attire was discarded as too intolerably heavyfor endurance. The morning ride became a thing of the past, and even adrive at sunset too fatiguing to be quite enjoyable. Maud felt that shehad never--not even when Miss Goodenough had locked her up for a wholesummer afternoon, to learn her 'duty to her neighbour'--known whatexhaustion really meant till now.
The children were turning sadly white, and Felicia began to be anxiousfor their departure to the Hills. Maud would of course go with them, andVernon was to follow in a couple of months, when he could get his leave.Much as she hated leaving her husband, Felicia was on the wholeextremely glad to go. The state of things at home disturbed her. Maud'soutspoken susceptibility, Desvoeux's impressionable and eagertemperament, Sutton's unconsciousness of what she wanted him to do--thecombination was one from which it was a relief in prospect to escape tothe refuge of a new and unfamiliar society. Felicia's buoyant andhopeful nature saw in the promised change of scene the almost certaintythat somehow or other matters would seem less unpromising when looked atfrom the summits of Elysium.
For Elysium accordingly they started. Three primitive vehicles, whosebattered sides and generally faded appearance spoke eloquently of thedust, heat and bustle in which their turbulent existence was for themost part engaged, were dragged one afternoon, each by a pair of highlyrebellious ponies, with a vast deal of shouting, pushing, andexecrating, into a convenient position before the hall-door, and theirtops loaded forthwith with that miscellaneous and profuse supply ofbaggage which every move in India necessarily involves, and which it isthe especial glory of Indian servants to preserve in undiminishedamplitude. Suffice it to say, that it began with trunks and cradles,went on with native nurses, and concluded with a goat. Vernon sat in theverandah, smoking a cheroot with stoical composure and interfering onlywhen some pyramid of boxes seemed to be assuming proportions of perilousaltitude. He was to travel with them, establish them at Elysium, andride down sixty miles again by night--a performance of which noDustyporean thought twice. Maud, to whom one of the creaking fabrics wasassigned in company with the two little girls, found that (the feat ofclambering in and establishing herself once safely accomplished) thejourney promised to be not altogether unluxurious. The Vernons' servantswere experienced and devoted, and every detail of the journey wascarefully foreseen. The interior of the carriage, well furnished withmattresses and pillows, made an excellent bed; a little army of servantsgathered round to proffer aid and to give the Sahibs a passing salaam;friendly carriages kept rolling in to say 'Good-bye.' Sutton, who hadbeen kept away on business, galloped in at the last moment and seemedtoo much occupied in saying farewell to Felicia to have much time forother thoughts. 'Good-bye,' he said, in the most cheery tone, as he cameto Maud's carriage, and 'Good-bye, Uncle Jem!' shouted the little girls,waving their adieux as best they might under the deep awning; and then,after a frantic struggle for independent action on the part of theponies, they were fairly off and spinning along the great, straight,high road which stretches in unswerving course through so many hundredmiles of English rule.
The little girls were in the greatest glee, and busy in signalling UncleJem for as long as possible. Maud, somehow, did not share their mirth:for the first time Sutton had seemed unkind, or near enough unkind, togive her pain. This ending of the pleasant time seemed to her an eventwhich friendship ought not quite to have ignored. She looked back uponmany happy hours, the brightest of her life; and the person who had madethem bright evidently did not share her sentimental views about them inthe least. Partings, Maud's heart told her, must surely be always sad;yet Sutton's voice had no tone of sadness in it. 'Stay--stay a little!'she could have cried with Imogen,
Were you but riding forth to air yourself, Such parting were too petty--
True, they were to meet in a few weeks; but yet--but yet!
'You've got a big tear on your cheek,' said one of her companions, withthe merciless frankness of childhood.
'Have I?' said Maud. 'Then it must be the dust that has gone into myeyes. How hot it is! Come, let us have some oranges!'
By this time evening was fast closing in, and Maud's cheeks were soonsafe from further observation. Before long her and her companions' eyeswere fast closed by that kindly hand which secures to the most troubledof mankind the boon that one-third, at any rate, of existence shall bespent in peace. When they awoke the stars were shining bright, but thesky was already ruddy with the coming dawn, and Maud could see the giantmountain forms looming, cold and majestical, in the grey air above them.They alighted at a little wayside inn, and found delicious cups of tea(the Indians' invariable morning luxury) awaiting them. Maud hadsufficiently recovered her spirits to make a bold inroad on the breadand butter.
A mist hung about the country round, and it was a delightful, home-likesensation to shrink once again, as the cold mountain blasts cameswirling down, throwing the wreaths of vapour here and there, andrecalling the delicious reminiscence of a November fog. In a fewmoments the horses were ready, the children and nurses packed intopalanquins, and the upward march began.
These morning expeditions in the mountains are indescribablyexhilarating. At every step you breathe a fresher atmosphere and feel anew access of life, vigour and enjoyment. Sweet little gushes of purecold air meet you at the turnings of the road and bid you welcome. Thevegetation around is rich, profuse and--long-forgotten charm--sparklingeverywhere with dew. There has been a thunderstorm in the night, and themountain-sides are streaming still: little cataracts come tumblingclamorously beside your path; below you a muddy stream is foaming andbrawling and collecting the tribute of a hundred torrents to swell thegreat flood that spreads away miles wide in the plain, and glitters inthe far horizon. As the path rises you get a wider view, and presentlythe great champaign lies below, flashing and blinking in the morning'srays. Miles away overhead a tiny white thread shows the road along whichin an hour or two you will be travelling, and a little speck at thesummit, the cottage where your mid-day rest will be. Behind you lieheat, monotony, fatigue, hot hours in sweltering courts, wearystrugglings through the prose of officialdom, the tiresome warfareagainst sun and dust; around you and above, it is all enchanted ground
;the air is full of pleasant sounds and sweet invisible influences; thegenius of the woods breathes poetry about the scene, the mountain nymphsare dancing on yonder crest, and Puck and Oberon and Titania haunting ineach delicious nook. Well may the first Englishman, who toiled pantinghitherwards from the reeking realms below, have fancied himself half-wayto Paradise and have christened the crowning heights Elysium. Maud, atany rate, leaving the rest of the party behind, rode forward in anecstasy of enjoyment.
* * * * *
They spent the hot hours of the day in a sweet resting-place. Yearsafterwards the calmness of that pleasant day used to live in Maud'srecollection; and though many scenes of bustle and trouble and feveredexcitement had come between herself and it, yet the very thought of itused to soothe her. 'I have you, dear,' she would say to Felicia, 'in mymind's picture-gallery, set in a dozen different frames--scenes in whichyou played a part--and this is my favourite. I love you best of all inthis; it cools and gladdens me to look at it.'
The scene, in fact, was a lovely one. On one side rose a vastamphitheatre of granite, rugged, solemn, precipitous; downwards, alongthe face of this, a careful eye might trace from point to point thelittle path up which the party were to make to-morrow's march. Thismountain ridge separated them from the Elysian hills, and seemed tofrown at them like some giant bulwark reared to guard the snowysolitudes beyond from human intrusion. On the other hand, fold uponfold, one sweet outline melting into another--here kissed by softwreaths of cloud, here glittering clear and hard in the flood oflight--stretched all the minor ranges, along which for fifty miles thetraveller to the Elysians prepares himself for the final sublimity thatlies beyond. In front, where the mountains parted, lay sweltering in thehorizon, and immeasurably below them, the great Indian plain, spread outas far as eye could follow it--a dim, glistening, monotonouspanorama--varied only when occasionally a great river, swollen with themelting snows above, spread out for miles across the plain and twinkledlike an inland lake as the sun's rays fell upon it--and the wholesuggested intolerable heat.
The hillside around was covered thick with forest growth of tropicalluxuriance. On the heights above, a clump of rhododendrons glowed with arosy glory; here, on a rugged precipice, a storm-stricken deodar spreadits vast flat branches as if to brave the storm and the lightningstrokes such as had before now seamed its bark. The path below wasoverhung with a dense growth of bamboo, each stem a miracle of grace,and growing at last to an inextricable jungle in the deep bosom of themountain gorge. Mountain creepers in fantastic exuberance tossed wildlyabout the crag's side or hung festooning the roadside with a gorgeousnatural tapestry. A hundred miles away the everlasting snow-cladsummits, which had stood out so clear in the grey morning, when theyfirst emerged from their couch of clouds, were fading into faintness asthe bright daylight poured about them. Just below the spot on whichtheir camp was pitched there was a little spring and a drinking-place,and constant relays of cattle came tinkling up the road and rested inthe tall rocks' shadow for a drink, while the weary drivers sat chattingon the edge. Every now and then weird beings from the Interior, whosewild attire and unkempt aspect bespoke them as belonging to someaboriginal tribe, were to be seen staggering along under huge logs oftimber felled in the great forests above and now brought down to theconfines of civilisation for human use. It was a new page in Nature'sgrand picture-book, and full of charm. Maud, who was always very muchalive to the outer world, was greatly impressed. Her nerves wereover-wrought. She took Felicia's hand and seemed to be in urgent need ofimparting her excited mood to some one.
'How beautiful this is!' she cried; 'how solemn, how solitary! Alreadyall the world seems to be something unsubstantial, and the mountains theonly reality.'
Felicia threw herself back upon the turf and gave a great sigh ofrelief.
'I love these delicious gusts of air,' she said, 'fresh and pure fromthe snow-tops.'
'Yes,' cried Maud; 'how serene and grand they look! No wonder the Alpinetourists go crazy about them and break their necks in clambering aboutthem, bewildered with pleasure:
'"How faintly flushed, how phantom fair, Was Monte Rosa hanging there! A thousand shadowy pencilled valleys And snowy dells in a golden air!"
'And here is a whole horizon of Monte Rosas! I should like to stop amonth here and devote myself to sketching.'
While they were chatting in the shade, a native lad, who had beenstanding on a neighbouring knoll, came running down to a picketed ponyand began hurriedly to prepare him for departure.
'What Sahib's horse?' Vernon asked with that imperative inquisitivenessthat the superior race allows itself in India.
'Boldero Sahib,' replied the breathless groom; and before many minutesmore 'Boldero Sahib' himself began to be apparent on the oppositehillside.
'The impetuous Boldero,' cried Vernon, 'riding abroad, redressing humanwrongs, and doing his best, as usual, to break his neck, as if therecould by any possibility be anything worth hurrying about in the plainsbelow. Now, Maud, you will see a real philanthropist in flesh andblood.'
Presently the tiny distant object had shaped itself into a man andhorse, and in a quarter of an hour more Boldero came clattering into theyard, had slung himself out of the saddle in a moment, and was alreadypreparing to mount his new horse, when he discovered the Vernons and wasintroduced to Maud.
He seemed to have broken like a whirlwind into the repose of the party.His servants were evidently well experienced in their master'smovements; the saddle had been speedily shifted and the fresh horse wasalready ready for a start. Boldero drank off a great beaker of coldwater. Maud's first impression was that he looked extremely handsome andextremely hot, and in better spirits and a greater hurry than she hadever seen any one in in her life. Vernon, after first greetings, hadspeedily resumed his attitude of profound repose and evidently had nointention of being infected with bustle.
'Come, Boldero,' he said, 'do, for goodness' sake, send away your horseand wait here and have some lunch, instead of flying off in such amadman's hurry. India, which has already waited several thousand yearsfor your arrival to reform her, can, no doubt, dispense with you fortwenty minutes more; and fortune does not send good meetings every day.'
'Yes, Mr. Boldero,' said Felicia, 'and I have just been making a salad,which I am delighted you have arrived to admire; and I daresay you havehalf-a-dozen new ferns to show me.'
'I am pledged to be at Dustypore to-morrow, and ought to be ten milesfurther on my way by this time,' said Boldero. 'However, there is aglorious moon all through the night, and this delightful Doongla Gullyseems set as a snare to beguile one into loitering by the way. What asweet little oasis it is among all the gloom of the mountains!'
'Now, Maud,' said Vernon, 'I'll give you an idea of what the virtuouscivilian does. He rides all night, he works all day.'
'Or rather,' said Boldero, who had as much dislike as the rest of thearmy of good fellows to being the topic of conversation, 'by night hedances, by day he plays at Badminton. My visit to the Viceroy wasnothing except for the solemnity of the affair.'
'Well,' answered Vernon, 'and now you come just in time to give mycousin a lesson in water-colours. You must know, Maud, that Mr. Bolderocarried off the prize at Elysium for a mountain-sketch last year. Now,Boldero, be good-natured and tell her the mystery of your sunset skies,which, though I deny their fidelity, are, I must admit, as beautiful asthe real ones.'
'Will you?' said Maud, her eyes flashing out and her colour coming atthe mere thought of what she especially desired.
'Will I not?' Boldero said, with alacrity. 'What pleasanter afternoon'swork could fortune send one?' And thereupon Maud's sketch-book wasproduced.
'Did you ever see such a daub?' she cried. 'It looks worse now it is drythan when I did it. It is so provoking! I feel the scenes--I have themall beautifully in my mind, and then come those horrid, hard, blotchyheaps. Just look at this odious mountain! Alas! alas!' Maud went onruthlessly blotting out her morning's work, which, t
o tell the truth,did not deserve immortality.
'You made it a little too blue,' said her tutor. 'See, now; I will toneit down for you in a minute.'
'No, no,' cried Maud, 'let us have something fresh, that I have notdesecrated by a caricature. Here, this in front of us will be lovely.'
'See,' said Boldero; 'we will have that nice bit of dark shade with thatragged deodar, and that jolly little cloud overhead.'
Maud's face glowed with pleasure, and her companion's last thought ofgetting in time to Dustypore disappeared.
Before the sketch was done the evening shadows were already fastclimbing up the mountain's side; the valley's short day was over; coldmasses of vapour were gathering about the crags; and the moon, that wasto light the traveller through his night-long journey, was sailing, paleand ghostlike, overhead. Boldero waved them a last farewell as hedisappeared round the opposite hillside, and seemed to Maud's excitedimagination like some knight-errant riding down into the gloom.