ROMANCE OF 
 
 CEYLON by E.O.Walker 
 
 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND 
 
 MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID 
 
A Romance of Ceylon 
 
 BY 
 
 E. O WALKER 
 
 CLE. 
 
 LONDON 
 T. FISHER UNWIN 
 
 Paternoster Square 
 mdcccxcix 
 
[All Kights Reserved] 
 
51® 
 
 A Romance of Ceylon 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 The sea was breaking in crisp waves upon the 
 coral reef that faced the white beach of Kollupitiya, 
 and a gentle breeze stirred the glistening fronds 
 of the elegant palms that fringed the shore, as a 
 group of children issued from the School of Santa 
 Maria, to be dispersed up and down the long, dusty 
 road that skirted the sea. It was four o'clock in 
 the afternoon, the sun was still hot, and the bullock 
 carts, drawn by weary teams, slowly meandered 
 along the well-used and familiar highway. A girl, 
 rather taller than her companions, had separated 
 from them, and was pursuing her way to a small, 
 red-tiled house, half-hidden among bananas and 
 hibiscus, its porch embowered in convolvulus. 
 Her pale, fawn-coloured skin contrasted strik- 
 ingly with the dark tints of the work-people in 
 the street ; the pallor of her cheeks and the dark 
 circles round her grey eyes witnessed to habitual 
 seclusion in the semi-darkness of her home, or in 
 the deep shades of its leafy surroundings; her 
 nose was straight, and slightly widened at the 
 nostrils; her lips rather more full than those of 
 the north countries, but elegant in outline, and 
 
 A 
 
 =tt*t> m <***.;* 
 
2 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 velvety in texture ; her hair was drawn tightly- 
 back from the brow, and was shiny with scented 
 unguents, fastened behind in a knot, and wreathed 
 with a small chaplet of white flowers ; her figure was 
 slight, the swell of the bosom beneath the snow- 
 white linen bodice showing that she was leaving 
 childhood behind ; the feet were small and without 
 covering, revealed below a wrap of blue silk, worn 
 tightly round her form from the waist downward ; 
 one rounded arm supported a slate, a writing-book 
 and work-basket, the implements of her school life, 
 and the other was raised, while she shaded with 
 her hand her eyes from the slanting rays of the 
 sun. As she turned out of the street into the 
 little walk which led up to the house, her mother 
 came out to the porch and received her at the door 
 with an affectionate pat on the shoulder, which 
 was responded to by the girl slipping her arm 
 round the mother's waist. 
 
 * Kirimanica, my child, are you glad to be 
 home?' 
 
 1 Mother, to me it is better than all the world 
 outside, and your love more than anything the 
 world can give.' 
 
 She put down her burden and busied herself in 
 watering some pots of favourite flowers which were 
 disposed along the verandah, looking up from her 
 occupation every now and then to smile at her 
 mother. 
 
 The latter was of Kandyan race and retained 
 the costume of the country similar to that in which 
 the girl was dressed ; of thirty years of age, she 
 retained much of her youthful beauty, with the 
 marked profundity of expression in the dark eyes 
 which is not uncommon in the East. Married at 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 3 
 
 seventeen years of age, her daughter was now 
 fourteen. Her husband, Panabokki, was a scion 
 of an old Ceylon race, of conservative habits and 
 feelings, whose ancestors held land at Matila in the 
 Kandyan province, and were once of consequence 
 at the native Court. He had so far conceded to 
 modern exigencies as to qualify for practice as an 
 advocate in the Supreme Court, and dressed in 
 English costume when at his daily work. The 
 members of his family circle were simple folk, 
 following agriculture, as they have always done, 
 and knowing little of English ways. Against the 
 latter he was prejudiced, especially as regards the 
 use of intoxicants and the freedom of habits dis- 
 played by women. This in particular made him 
 more rigid than he would naturally be in the 
 management of his own household. His wife kept 
 much indoors, both by taste and in deference to 
 his desires, and his daughter went out little save 
 to attend school. In his opinion the knowledge 
 of a woman should extend only to those things 
 which will render her a good housekeeper, a faith- 
 ful wife, and a careful mother, but he had yielded 
 to the advice of friends in sending his daughter to 
 the Catholic school of Santa Maria. There was 
 no Buddhist seminary, save an elementary one, in 
 his neighbourhood, and, under the Sisters of Santa 
 Maria, the child was acquiring mental training 
 equal to that afforded in Europe. She had passed 
 the age at which some are withdrawn by their 
 parents from school, but Panabokki wisely re- 
 frained from pressing the girl to think of marriage 
 while still a child in thought — a common practice 
 with those of his race. 
 
 The father used to mix largely with the English 
 
4 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 and men of other nationalities in the course of his 
 legal practice, and was not prejudiced enough to 
 ignore the good qualities that each possessed, nor 
 sufficiently blind to see that each had, in the large 
 world of Colombo, his own and proper sphere of 
 action. But in social relations, as has been hinted 
 already, he preferred to retain the primitive ex- 
 clusiveness native in an Eastern race. The mother 
 and daughter, with their two faithful attendants, 
 a man and his wife, stayed largely at home, their 
 only change being an occasional visit to other 
 Singhalese ladies, or a long and refreshing sojourn 
 with their relations up among the hills, in the cool 
 areca groves of Matila. Modern life, the bustle 
 and excitement which are its pronounced features, 
 were at their very door, and they viewed its many 
 curious phenomena as a panorama from afar off, 
 and so much being outwardly repugnant to their 
 simple tastes and natural timidity, fresh incentive 
 was afforded to remain apart, merely as wondering 
 spectators. And yet they were not wholly ignorant 
 of the impulses and feelings which actuated the 
 figures that paraded upon their stage, for the girl 
 Kirimanica would read many English books, both 
 alone and often aloud to her mother. They had 
 learned to admire the manly strength of character 
 depicted in Western people, and saw its results in 
 much that had been achieved in the Ceylon of to- 
 day. They had learnt to know that courage and 
 enterprise need not exist apart from generosity 
 and kindness, for, indeed, the pictures they found 
 painted in glowing words, both in history and 
 romance, displayed heroes who combined at- 
 tributes such as these. But in strong contrast 
 with so much that was admirable there were 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 5 
 
 barbaric tastes and mannerisms which discounted 
 the impressions formed, and, especially in the 
 latitude permitted to women, there seemed to be 
 open encouragement of impurity. 
 
 Dharmaputa, the Buddhist priest, who con- 
 ducted the service at the temple, and who would 
 often sit for a time in Panabokki's house, clothed 
 in his yellow robe, would enlarge upon this peculiar 
 feature in Western life, and deplore the bad ex- 
 ample it set to Orientals, who believed that a 
 woman should look upon no other man than her 
 husband. He would argue that filial obedience 
 and reverence would be withheld by the children 
 from a mother who would spend much of her time 
 in the society of strange men, and who could learn 
 to find their smiles and praise and constant com- 
 pany necessary for her pleasure ; and if that came 
 about, would not the divine light nurtured through 
 this sacred relationship between mother and child 
 fade away? He had seen among his own moun- 
 tains the evil taint born of lack of reverence for the 
 marriage tie, and he was ever warning against 
 intercourse with a people from whom such a 
 tendency might be contracted. He would even 
 to Panabokki deprecate the girl's attendance at 
 a mixed school, where her simplicity and single- 
 mindedness might be imperilled. But he could 
 not but admit that the circumstances of life in the 
 East had entered upon a new phase which made 
 learning necessary both to peer and peasant. If 
 that were so, mothers should know enough to be 
 the teachers of their infants. Kirimanica herself, in 
 addition to natural ability, had the curiosity en- 
 gendered in one who is living upon the verge of a 
 new and unexplored country, and who is as yet 
 
6 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 unaware of the exact nature of the marvels it con- 
 tains, and she had progressed more quickly than 
 many of her companions who lived lives less 
 secluded than her own. She was filled with 
 curiosity to learn the mode in which the white 
 people around her passed their time, by what 
 common feeling there was union among them, and 
 how it was that, even in their amusements, they 
 seemed to be so earnest and in such haste. They 
 seemed to be so free and independent, and able in 
 so many ways to gratify their tastes, that had the 
 girl been subjected to other than a subdued atmo- 
 sphere, she might have felt some envy in this 
 contemplation ; but it had not yet come to this 
 that she should wish to cross the threshold of her 
 quiet home from any spirit of adventure inspired 
 by what she had seen and heard. 
 
 So far it had been an excitement in her restful 
 life to be taken round the native town when de- 
 corated upon the birthday of Buddha, and to 
 witness the gorgeous pageantry at Kandy at the 
 annual festival of the Temple of the Tooth, but 
 perhaps greatest to run wild upon the Matila hills, 
 when visiting the ancestral estate, to gather the 
 brilliant wild flowers, to watch the strange denizens 
 of wood and field and river, to breathe the scented 
 air, to lift her gaze to skies of ever-changing tints, 
 in short, to enjoy to the full all that to children 
 pure nature makes so dear. That life had been up 
 to now to the girl the ideal one, and now, at a 
 marriageable age, she began to feel her first, even 
 if only a faint, regret. For she became aware that 
 a slight restraint was imposed upon her careless 
 ways. She could not now sport in the meadows 
 clothed only with a silk wrap round the waist, 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 7 
 
 nor bathe with the other girls and boys in the 
 pond. Innocent of any feeling which might 
 prompt her of herself to change such habits, 
 she had yielded to the wishes of her parents, as 
 she always had done without question, in implicit 
 trust in their superior wisdom. This first symptom 
 of seclusion, of a gradually contracting environ- 
 ment, had seemed to render the girl the more 
 imaginative, and to cultivate a curiosity to know 
 what was passing in others than her own little 
 world. Panabokki had the wisdom to direct this 
 into right channels, and such healthful literature 
 as he could find was readily given to the child. 
 Her mother could not find answers to the many 
 questions that the books suggested, and many a 
 time they would have to be deferred until there 
 was leisure and opportunity to consult the father. 
 
 The social relations implied by marriage are 
 often, it might be said, commonly, understood quite 
 in childhood in the East, so that kindred thoughts 
 pass by without markedly blurring the innocence 
 it possesses. 
 
 Kirimanica had realised, before she had come 
 to maturity, that her future, like that of other 
 Singhalese girls, was to bear and rear children. 
 She had been intended from her infancy to marry 
 her cousin Rambanda, son of Panabokki's brother 
 at Matila. They had him brought up in this idea, 
 and had frequently been in each other's company 
 during childhood. No pressure was ever used to 
 promote the attachment, which the parents on both 
 sides hoped would be formed by mutual inclina- 
 tion. The girl's thoughts had not, therefore, hitherto 
 strayed in search of a lover, nor were they even 
 insensibly bent in speculations, as in cases where 
 
8 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 ignorance of such things prevails, upon the signifi- 
 cance of the marital bond, and the sense in which it 
 was to be accepted. Her ideas really went outside 
 the little world in which she lived to the large cities 
 of the West with their teeming, busy multitudes, 
 which sent forth the mighty steamers that day by 
 day glided in and out of Colombo harbour, land- 
 ing costly freights and scores of passengers of 
 alien races, and bearing away cargoes of tea, and 
 oil and spices ; to frame mental pictures of the 
 gorgeous displays in which kings and queens 
 took part, to realise, if in imagination only, the 
 beauties of the art galleries, and the charms of 
 music and song, of which she could but know by 
 mere reading in print in her home thousands of 
 miles away. Her habits of thought had predis- 
 posed her to be interested in what was foreign to 
 her own country, and, daily from her studies, and 
 from the perusal of some new book, she received 
 some fresh stimulus to her curiosity. If her in- 
 quiries became too embarrassing, and she was told 
 to be silent, she accepted the situation out of 
 deference to her parents, and tacitly deferred the 
 solution of her problem to some future time, 
 when new light might be afforded. 
 
 It was in the evening after sundown that the 
 family would be assembled in the little room that 
 overlooked the garden. A lamp, with cut-glass 
 pendants, hung from the ceiling ; a sofa, a few easy- 
 chairs and table, standing upon coloured grass 
 matting, a bookshelf and a piano composed the 
 furniture, the whole a commonplace imitation of 
 modern style. A handsome carved satinwood 
 screen divided the sitting from the dining-room 
 behind, the latter furnished with but a table, 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 9 
 
 chairs and sideboard. In the bedrooms the couches 
 and utensils were of Singhalese pattern. The 
 interior was like that of many other houses of to- 
 day — a compromise between the fashion of Ceylon 
 of the past and Europe of the present. But the 
 love of native grace and art was witnessed in the 
 elegant painted scroll-work upon the walls, the 
 garlands of leaves festooned above the doors, and 
 the bouquets of lily and hibiscus upon the tables. 
 Here they would sit on most evenings, mother and 
 daughter, in spotless linen bodices, low in the neck, 
 and edged with curious lace, clothed below the waist 
 with soft and bright silk wrappers, wearing in 
 their ears pearl drops, and handsome gold orna- 
 ments upon necks and arms. The mother would 
 generally sew while Kirimanica read, sometimes 
 aloud, when her father, having finished the news- 
 paper, would give his attention to her. His eyes 
 at such times would rest fondly upon the lovely 
 face and figure of the child, and he would wonder 
 within himself how, when the time came, he could 
 ever bear to let her go to another home, and to 
 lose the smiles and the caresses which now seemed 
 necessary to brace him up for his daily work. 
 
 Sometimes, when there was moonlight, the little 
 party would stroll through the cocoa-palm grove 
 to the sea-shore, and along the white beach, enjoy- 
 ing the cool and fresh breeze that came across the 
 ocean. The girl would gaze in wonder at the large 
 hotel that looks down upon the surf, glittering 
 with a hundred lights, with numbers of people 
 visible through the windows seated at snowy 
 tables, covered with flowers and elegant glass, 
 and waited upon by a troop of servants in white 
 garments. Occasionally there would be strains of 
 
io A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 music and song, which seemed heavenly when 
 compared with that which she was accustomed to 
 hear at marriage feasts and religious ceremonies. 
 
 One night the Club was brilliantly illuminated, 
 and tents pitched outside to help to accommodate 
 the large number of people who frequented the 
 annual race ball. A stream of carriages made a 
 long, snake-like line of lights along the road. Later, 
 the strains of a military band were wafted across 
 the esplanade. Through the open windows Kiri- 
 manica could see the figures gliding in the dance. 
 Approaching nearer, she could distinguish and 
 admire the handsome dresses of the ladies. It 
 was all a wonder-land ; but what she could not 
 grasp was the meaning of a ceremony which could 
 admit of intimate contact, almost an embrace, be- 
 tween ladies and gentlemen, almost, it seemed to 
 her, in an indiscriminate manner. She had at 
 other times seen them riding, driving and con- 
 versing together, and had learnt to know that the 
 white races were more free in their habits than 
 the Singhalese, but the incidents of the present 
 scene passed her comprehension. Her father, see- 
 ing her observant gaze, said, — 
 
 c It is time we were returning ; let us go hence.' 
 
 'What does this mean, father?' said the girl. 
 1 1 do not remember that we have read in our 
 books of the dance as the white people do it' 
 
 1 It is not good for us, my child. The English 
 are different. I hear that this mode of dancing 
 has been in vogue with them for a hundred years, 
 and that at such assemblies as this intoxicating 
 wines are used to excite the mind, and, it may be 
 in some cases, to excite the passions. Virtue itself 
 sometimes wavers in such circumstances. Let this 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON n 
 
 be. Think no more of it. Turn your eyes to the 
 fresh and purifying beauties of nature, which we 
 have in the ocean in front of us, in the spangled 
 sky, in our own garden, and in the ever-changing 
 aspects of our eternal hills.' 
 
 ' Father speaks truly,' said her mother, as they 
 regained the shade of the stately palms. ' Let not 
 your thoughts dwell, my heart's love, upon the 
 evils that our large city— may the Lord Buddha 
 guide us ! — presents to you. Be content with your 
 quiet home here, and that which you will perhaps 
 have with Rambanda by-and-by at Matila.' 
 
 ' Be it so, dear mother, I will ask no more ; but 
 about Rambanda, let us wait. I love him as a 
 brother, but I cannot tell yet whether I am minded 
 to give myself to him and to bear him children. 
 It seems to me sometimes that the feeling of love, 
 of which we read so much, which fills one's whole 
 being, which is said to awaken an ecstasy by the 
 touch of him who loves one, and which binds one 
 to sacrifice all one's treasures at his bid, that this 
 feeling is still foreign to me. Promise, mother, 
 that only to him for whom I have this sense I 
 shall be wed/ 
 
 'I cannot follow you in these thoughts, my 
 daughter; few ever go through life expecting to 
 find the love of which you speak. Many marry 
 only with a sense of respect for each other, and 
 from mutual taste ; and the bond becomes cordial 
 from common interests, and from the indulgence 
 of sexual inclinations ; then with the first-born 
 there comes a tie which binds together the father 
 and mother with inexplicable strength. She finds 
 then happiness of which she has never dreamed, 
 when the babe reposes with its head upon her 
 
12 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 breast. I trust this may be yours, Kirimanica, but 
 do not dwell in thought upon that kind of love 
 which is awakened only in a few.' 
 
 Then the father interposed, — 
 
 'What you speak of is the love of song, of 
 poetry, and of romance, such as exhibits itself 
 as passion, over-rides law, and often incites to 
 crime. But it does not endure, daughter, and is 
 foreign to our own lives. Your mother and I 
 have loved each other from childhood in such 
 way as married folk should ; alive to the faults 
 of self, and also aware of those of the other, con- 
 triving to be silent when they would become 
 apparent ; solicitous with kind offices in sick- 
 ness ; and filled with earnestness to dispel such 
 clouds as might darken our atmosphere. Marital 
 love is like a plant. It improves each day by 
 careful culture ; but it fades if it lack its accustomed 
 ministrations. True love is like the slow and 
 deep waters of the Kelani, which ever sweep on- 
 wards and are finally absorbed in the ocean — the 
 ocean of eternity ; but passion is soon sated, and 
 like the foaming torrent coursing down Hunus- 
 giriya's slope, is quenched and disappears when 
 adversity comes, as the stream in the hot season. 
 If you can, my Kirimanica, think of your cousin 
 Rambanda with affectionate regard, hesitate not 
 to give yourself to him. He is a good lad, faith- 
 ful to his duties, kind to his parents, attentive to 
 the words of the Great Teacher, and, in prospect 
 of wedding you, has already put by a good sum 
 of money.' 
 
 ' Father,' replied the girl, ' if I can think of 
 Rambanda in this way I will respect your wish, 
 but I am not sure yet that I feel toward him as 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 13 
 
 I should towards a husband. In our childhood 
 we have played together, and in company often 
 have we carried flowers to the Dagola ; but now 
 it seems to me that Rambanda's thoughts and 
 mine are not the same. He is ever bent upon 
 the care of cattle, the ploughing of the land, or 
 the repair of the thorn fences. The odours of 
 sweet flowers, the glint of the soft moonlight upon 
 the shining palm leaves, the murmurs of the 
 brook, the glow of colour in the evening skies — 
 all that seems to me to make life at Matila beauti- 
 ful — are to Rambanda as nought. I fear we have 
 grown apart. Let me, happy with you, father, 
 and dear mother, rest awhile longer, a girl, un- 
 touched by care or disappointment' 
 
 So they turn in to their little home, a shade of 
 perplexity resting upon Panabokki's brow. The 
 girl was becoming superior in mind to her old 
 surroundings ; this was the effect of the school 
 training she was receiving, and the associations 
 at school to which she was subjected. Would it 
 be wise to check this development? Would she 
 ever be reconciled to the destiny which they had 
 hoped would be hers ? Would she be wise enough 
 to recognise the nobility of earnest work in how- 
 ever humble a sphere? To these mental queries 
 he could find no immediate responses, but in her 
 present disposition he could find no trace of dis- 
 content, and the mental training she had received 
 seemed to have made her susceptibilities keener 
 than before, and to have awakened habits of ob- 
 servation and reflection which could not now be 
 destroyed. Things must take their way. If she 
 were to rise to a higher plane than that in which 
 such as those in her family circle moved, it must 
 
i 4 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 be so, and it was not for him to hold her back 
 But he sighed when he thought of the uncertainty 
 of her future, and the growing distance of the 
 marriage — a happy one they had hoped — upon 
 which the family had always speculated. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 Adjoining Panabokki's garden, and separated 
 by a fence of cactus overgrown with roses, was a 
 park-like enclosure containing a stately house — 
 Lotus Hall — the residence of a rich merchant 
 of Colombo, Mr Agnew. In front was a high 
 portico formed of Corinthian pillars, from whence 
 was the entrance into a handsome drawing-room, 
 decorated with gold mouldings ; behind, a dining- 
 saloon, furnished with ebony ; the two wings of 
 the house contained each a suite of several rooms, 
 and round the whole was a spacious verandah 
 supported upon white columns. An imposing 
 facade thus appeared in view as the house was 
 approached from the road, but the public gaze 
 was intercepted by clumps of bamboos and suriya 
 trees, which formed the boundary of the lawn, 
 which covered several acres in front of the house. 
 Behind were large groups of banyan trees, casting 
 the densest shade at all times of the year; skirting 
 the porch were banks of ferns, and twining the 
 columns, a luxuriant growth of lycopodium. A 
 basin of water filled the centre of the lawn, its 
 surface covered with red lotus. A covered fernery 
 occupied the ground at the southern extremity of 
 the house, which was that nearest to Panabokki's ; 
 and at the north end was a mass of arum lilies 
 and iris, also sheltered from the ardent sun. The 
 
 15 
 
16 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 owner of the mansion was a man of taste and 
 culture, as well as of strong ambition. In ad- 
 dition to the business which he conducted in 
 Colombo, he had been provided with means, at 
 a critical juncture in the coffee industry, by which 
 he purchased a number of estates which were 
 deemed to be worthless, but which since then had 
 been put under other cultivation with remarkable 
 success. These investments had, in a period of ten 
 years, multiplied in value twenty-fold. Every day 
 witnessed some fresh accession to his property. 
 From his youth — he was now fifty years of age 
 — he had lived with the ambition to become a 
 social power — a power which wealth bestows so 
 easily but is so difficult to acquire by other 
 means. It was well within possibility that he 
 might in time, in his prominent position in the 
 commercial world, for his services in the Legislative 
 Council, and in approbation of his liberal dona- 
 tions to public objects, be selected for some mark 
 of the Queen's favour. At present, at all events, 
 he was a man of considerable mark in Ceylon. 
 His wealth was reverenced, and his opinions, being 
 those of a man of considerable acumen and ob- 
 servation, were perhaps for this reason all the 
 more courted and deferred to. He had always 
 determined that everything in his surroundings 
 should be unexceptionable. The house was there- 
 fore furnished and decorated, if not sumptuously, 
 with artistic effect. The drawing-room was of 
 polished white, with mouldings in gilt, and with 
 clusters of frosted glow-lamps suspended from the 
 roof; with a floor of marble covered here and 
 there with Persian carpets ; the white and gold 
 chairs and couches upholstered with blue silk. 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 17 
 
 In the angles of the walls, on pedestals, stood 
 chaste reproductions of Italian sculpture, and as 
 the eye glanced round the room it rested upon 
 some fine works in oils supported by easels. The 
 dining-room walls were of terra-cotta colour, hung 
 with engravings after Graham and Stuart ; the 
 furniture of carved ebony, and standing upon a 
 carpet of velvet pile of dark red; opaque glass, 
 coloured faintly pink, in the windows, admitted a 
 subdued and enjoyable light; an electrolier of 
 silver filigree, containing a circle of glow lamps 
 suspended downwards, and shaded by pink silk, 
 hung over the table, and on the sideboard, in the 
 numerous niches of its superstructure, which rose 
 almost to the ceiling, was a splendid show of 
 Oriental silver. The table was, except when a 
 large company was bidden, laid always for four, 
 so that, in addition to Mr Agnew and his wife, 
 casual visitors could be received. It glittered with 
 cut glass, and was adorned with a Dresden bowl 
 containing delicate ferns and orchids obtained with 
 difficulty from the distant forests. The suites of 
 rooms contained in the wings, which lay north 
 and south, comprised each a boudoir or writing- 
 room, a bedroom and a dressing-room, with a 
 marble bath attached ; the rooms were divided 
 one from another by exquisite satinwood screens, 
 the work of Singhalese carvers; the floors con- 
 sisted of a parqueterie of Ceylon woods, and the 
 furniture of polished holly, upholstered in pale 
 green Japanese silk. The same material com- 
 posed the window and the bed hangings. Some 
 choice plants of roses in bloom, placed here and 
 there in Majolica vases of large size, served to 
 diffuse a voluptuous fragrance, heightened by the 
 
 B 
 
i8 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 odour of heliotrope, which, renewed every few 
 days, hung outside the windows in moss-covered 
 baskets. The master's own writing-room was lined 
 with book-cases from floor to ceiling, and con- 
 tained what he always called his best friends. 
 Among the best-used books were those of Disraeli. 
 In the verandah immediately at the back of this 
 room were stands containing guns, rods, whips and 
 rackets, and behind again a path under the banyan 
 trees lined with rose bushes, and leading, at a 
 distance of a few hundred yards, to the stables 
 and coach-house, where stood some half-dozen 
 horses, with a brougham, dog-cart and mail 
 phaeton, and a well-equipped harness and saddle 
 room. 
 
 In his bachelor days, George Agnew had often 
 dreamed of the ideal wife he hoped some day to 
 possess, as many others have done. Of cultivated 
 taste himself, an artist in music and in painting, 
 he had naturally wished to find a companion of 
 similar talent, with the same keen appreciation 
 as himself for the beauty of nature in the smallest 
 and most contracted environment. The very 
 love of what was beautiful, which had been so 
 sedulously indulged, had made him difficult to 
 please with those of his own kind. He had 
 always looked for a girl of more than ordinary 
 physical charms, and naturally for one who was 
 young. The combination desired had been a 
 difficult one to realise, and his peculiarly intel- 
 lectual temper of mind had proved a further 
 obstacle in rendering him unsympathetic with 
 youth. Many years had passed without his having 
 satisfied himself that he had met one with whom 
 he could irrevocably unite himself. It seemed 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 19 
 
 as if his destiny were to pass his life alone. But 
 once, during a visit to England, he had formed 
 a friendship with an artist, in whose house at 
 Hampstead he found a welcome retreat from the 
 din and excitement of town life, and in which he 
 felt agreeably refreshed when released from the 
 anxieties of business pursuits, tired of the 
 monotony of the club smoking-room, and of 
 the heated atmosphere of theatre and social 
 assemblies. 
 
 The garden was a picture of sylvan beauty, and 
 many a long evening was spent in quiet con- 
 verse, stimulated by the fragrant weed, under 
 the shade of the spreading cedars upon the lawn. 
 But the feature which had most attraction for 
 Agnew was the lovely Helen Caselli — the only 
 child of the house — who was then in the spring- 
 tide of womanhood. The depth of feeling ex- 
 pressed in her violet eyes, the chaste purity of 
 her white skin, the deep red of her delicately- 
 cut lips, the golden sheen of her wavy hair, 
 the clean outline of her finely-chiselled nose, 
 the broad, thoughtful brow, and the grace of her 
 slender, lately-ripened figure, had combined to 
 present a charm which he was obliged to confess 
 to himself he could not resist. She would sit, 
 as a listener for the most part, during the long 
 talks which turned mostly upon art, and had, from 
 frequent association with Agnew, from dwelling 
 upon his manly beauty, and from admiration of 
 his great attainments, after many summer evenings, 
 grown to reciprocate some of the regard which 
 for her had evidently taken strong root in his 
 nature. The girl had lost her mother in her 
 childhood, and had gained her education in her 
 
2o A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 father's studio, from his book-shelves, and from 
 the many master minds of science and of art with 
 which she had come in contact in his social circle. 
 
 Religion was, from Caselli's point of view, not 
 to be taught by dogma, but to be acquired by 
 decrees, as the mind was trained by a process 
 of eclecticism. Helen's faith was as yet unde- 
 fined, although, in a moral aspect, she had learned 
 to accept what was best put into practice by the 
 leading thinkers of the day. 
 
 Knowing that the principles of good and evil 
 must be supernatural, she had only grasped that 
 they existed in nature— that the one made for 
 happiness, and the other for misery ; that the 
 former had its analogy in light and regeneration, 
 while the latter was synonymous with darkness 
 and decay. How divine revelation alone could 
 guide the seeker after truth to a firm grasp 
 of the one, and render him superior to the re- 
 actionary influence of the other, she had not been 
 brought to realise. The great religious teachers 
 of the world had, she thought, evolved from the 
 principles that ruled the natural world the doc- 
 trines which they taught. If, in the East, people 
 had, thousands of years ago, been taught to be 
 kind to all, and to lead lives of self-sacrifice, it 
 was only the same knowledge, imparted, almost 
 in the same word, which had come later to the 
 West as populations emerged from barbarism. 
 She saw that a moral code, framed upon such 
 teaching, was necessary for all elevated human 
 societies. She had never known affliction. No- 
 thing but her mother's death had darkened her 
 existence, and she had then been too young to 
 feel it but momentarily. She had never experi- 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 21 
 
 enced great anxieties and perplexities. Golden 
 sunshine lighted her whole existence, so that 
 of the need of the immediate divine presence 
 and guidance she had not yet been sensible. 
 In indulging a feeling that elevated her own tone, 
 and, at the same time, gratified another person, 
 she felt no restraint, and she had, without con- 
 sidering eventualities, welcomed the new and 
 pleasurable emotions which the attentions of 
 Agnew had evoked. Although brought up him- 
 self from childhood in the faith of the National 
 Church, his religious susceptibilities had rarely 
 been awakened. Honourable in his own acts, 
 he had always accepted other people, until they 
 were found out, as animated by motives as good 
 as his own ; and in any attachment he might 
 form, considerations about religion were not the 
 first to be entertained. The tide of feeling which 
 he was now experiencing was comparable to the 
 onward and resistless flow of some placid river, 
 on whose surface are mirrored the flowers and 
 branches that grow upon its banks, the fleecy 
 clouds and the blue vault in which they sail, 
 but which is yet gathering in volume and 
 strength day by day as it descends in its course 
 to the ocean. Some new suggestion emanating 
 from her physical grace, some fresh impression 
 springing from the treasure-store of her memory, 
 in this willing state of receptivity, found an instant 
 reflection in his own mind, and the sympathetic 
 tone and glance which she had become accustomed 
 to use for him in all their intercourse contributed 
 to swell his growing passion. 
 
 Caselli, the father, had imaged no particular 
 future for his daughter. He loved her devotedly ; 
 
22 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 the sound of her footstep made his pulse beat 
 faster. With her by him in his studio long hours 
 of work were as nothing ; and she, on her side, in 
 return for his love and caressing indulgence, gave 
 him her complete confidence and affection. He 
 knew that in the natural course of events she 
 would marry, and be as good as lost to him ; but 
 while cherishing a fervent desire for the happiness 
 that he hoped awaited her, he had never dwelt 
 upon the character and the circumstances of the 
 husband he would wish her to have, and was in 
 the habit of thrusting from himself the unwel- 
 come thought of the separation that might come. 
 He would, at all events, accept her choice, unless 
 it were for one whom he knew to be unworthy, 
 and, seeing her growing preference for Agnew, he 
 did nothing to counteract it. The latter came 
 and went freely, and his society was as genial 
 to Caselli as agreeable to Helen. 
 
 One day Agnew and Helen had gone down by 
 train to a Thames-side village, to row down to 
 Windsor and to return by rail to Hampstead. 
 In the capacity of a trusted friend he was to be 
 in sole charge of her on this trip. They had 
 lunch at a little hostelry on the river bank in a 
 room all to themselves. Helen, in her dress of 
 white flannel, trimmed with light blue, and her 
 broad white straw hat caught up on one side to 
 display her rippling tresses, appeared more attrac- 
 tive than ever ; and a glass of Roederer which 
 accompanied lunch had awakened a tinge of 
 pink in her usually pale cheeks, suggestive of 
 emotion, which was not indeed foreign to the 
 surroundings in which she found herself. It was 
 a pleasure to be out on this summer day, and it 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 23 
 
 was also a pleasure to be in the company of the 
 man who was with her. 
 
 They had cast off from the inn, and were 
 drifting down stream in their skiff, she at the 
 helm and he quietly directing their course with 
 the sculls. After an interval of silence he 
 remarked, — 
 
 ' Miss Caselli, have you ever realised what 
 strange affinities exist in the world between 
 people who seem to meet perhaps only for an 
 hour, and by mere accident? Sometimes only in 
 a crowd, when a responsive glance alone reveals 
 the fact on the side of one whom we never see 
 again ? ' 
 
 ' I have the consciousness of it/ she replied, 
 1 but I have met few with whom I have felt sym- 
 pathy. It may be, in the larger world in which 
 you live and move, that the existence of kindred 
 souls have become more apparent to you than to 
 me, who pass my days at the piano, or under the 
 cedars of Heath Lodge, Hampstead. If you mean 
 do I like some people and dislike others, perhaps 
 
 I should say " Yes," but the feeling does not spring 
 up at their very first approach ; it takes time to 
 grow.' 
 
 1 Looking back upon my past life/ said Agnew, 
 
 I I can mark down here and there persons with 
 whom I have at once and always been in sym- 
 pathy, from the moment our eyes met or our 
 hands were clasped. Some with whom I have 
 frequently associated have proved lasting friends, 
 and even those whom subsequently I have hardly 
 met I have always cherished in memory. The 
 mutual inclination in human nature to which I 
 refer has its analogy in physics, in which we are 
 
24 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 taught that certain elements tend to combine. It 
 has always seemed to me that a truer order of 
 things in our world would have been elicited had 
 we always listened to the promptings of the soul 
 — or heart, if you prefer to refer them to a physical 
 organ — which have, I should imagine, their origin 
 in the divine. But we are often restrained, it may 
 be, by an excess of prudence, by social convention- 
 alities, or by force of material circumstances, and 
 our proper feelings thus resisted, there is a reaction, 
 and we become wooden, mechanical, our susceptibili- 
 ties dulled, and our course in life bent and forced 
 into a wrong groove.' 
 
 'You think, then, that one should be the 
 creature of impulse ? ' 
 
 * If it be good impulse, for the good of one or 
 many, I should answer affirmatively.' 
 
 ' But is not one liable to be misunderstood 
 when one displays at short notice the feeling 
 that often wells up in one's nature ? ' 
 
 1 1 say it is not to be so with those who can- 
 not appreciate the pearls cast before them, but 
 rather with those whose responsiveness betrays 
 their real sympathy. On their part there is no 
 misconception, no shadow of doubt nor dis- 
 dain.' 
 
 She mutely acquiesced in this conclusion. In- 
 deed, without ever having stated the argument in 
 words, she had before comprehended its intuitive 
 truth. But she had caught in English society 
 the extreme reserve, not to say bashfulness, which 
 has from time immemorial been a marked charac- 
 teristic of its girls, and often seems to render them 
 awkward and irresponsive. At this moment her 
 slender white fingers were dipped in the water, 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 25 
 
 bringing a sensation of coolness in pleasant con- 
 trast to the hot June sun, which to-day had been 
 rather overheating. It was setting now; perhaps 
 it had struck upon her cheeks and reddened 
 them ; perhaps the rose lining of her sunshade 
 produced the same effect ; or was it that to-day 
 she was for the first time a little embarrassed in 
 Agnew's society? His glance seemed to pene- 
 trate her very thoughts. She felt uneasy lest he 
 should discover too much. They were coming 
 round the last bend of the river above Eton ; in 
 ten minutes they would be at Windsor Bridge. 
 He might not after this be alone with her again 
 this evening. He might, without risking every- 
 thing, find out something of her real feeling for 
 him. 
 
 1 Helen,' he said, and it was the first time that 
 he had used that name, and she flushed painfully, 
 turned her violet eyes upon his for a moment, and 
 then withdrew them to the battlements of the 
 castle lighted with the last red gleam of sunset, 
 1 have you ever known love ? ' 
 
 She found means to laugh with assumed care- 
 lessness, but the effort was an awkward one. 
 
 ' I am not sure that I even know the meaning 
 of the word, Mr Agnew. It exists in song and 
 in romances, and seems to make the possessor 
 very uncomfortable. It is the only word I can 
 find to express what I feel for father— dear father, 
 who has been the light of my life from my child- 
 hood ; in this sense it means reverence, admira- 
 tion and dependence. I don't know that it is fit 
 to express all phases of affection. I have liked 
 people, if that is what you mean— liked their 
 society, been pleased with their smiles, and felt 
 
26 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 grateful for their attentions. With some I have 
 even felt happy to be alone.' 
 
 He looked up quickly, for the last sentence 
 seemed to be specially directed to him. She was, 
 however, looking towards the landing-stage, and 
 busy with the tiller ropes. Her face was quite 
 flushed, however, and she seemed glad to be 
 helped out of her seat in the boat. The train 
 would not leave for half an hour. Agnew invited 
 the girl to linger on the bridge, where they leaned 
 over the parapet, watching the willows waving over 
 the shining stream, and skiffs and launches pass- 
 ing with their gay and happy freights. The 
 twilight seemed to render them both more 
 thoughtful than usual ; a cool breeze stirred her 
 golden hair and blew a tress across her com- 
 panion's cheek. The soft touch and fragrance 
 gave him fresh excitement. It was almost an 
 omen of good fortune. 
 
 This time he spoke hurriedly, and as disturbed 
 out of his usual composure. 
 
 ' Helen, it was of myself that I wished to speak 
 to-day — of yourself and myself too, and the whole 
 time seems to have passed without my having 
 asked the short question which has ever been in 
 my mind. It is idle to try to conceal from you 
 — you must know surely already — that I love 
 you. I proposed our going out to-day that I 
 might ask you if you can accept what I now 
 offer you — my love, my life. I don't press you 
 to reply at once. It may be that you want time 
 to inquire of your own heart, if you have not 
 yet thought of me in the way I want' 
 
 She trembled all over and felt a choking sensa- 
 tion in her throat, which for a few moments she 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 27 
 
 could not conquer. She gazed into the placid 
 depths below as if she could find her destiny 
 pictured there in some mysterious way. But no 
 light came to clear up her perplexity. Several 
 moments passed before she said, — 
 
 ' I cannot answer you to-day. I am proud 
 that you should have thought of me as one you 
 would choose for a — a wife. Let me wait, in 
 mercy, a short time to think calmly.' 
 
 Helen's face was turned away so that Agnew 
 could not see the expression which it bore, but 
 in her tones there was a dreamy tenderness 
 which gave him hope. He caught the soft, un- 
 gloved hand which rested near his upon the 
 parapet of the bridge, and pressed it in response, 
 and the excitement of feeling which both had 
 experienced died away gradually as if borne 
 upon the evening breeze. 
 
 As they whirled back to town by train, although 
 alone together, he did not renew the subject. 
 Helen was anything but composed. Once or 
 twice Agnew thought her eyes were full of tears. 
 He sat fronting her rather than by her side, so 
 that she should feel no restraint in their altered 
 relations one with another, and he spoke care- 
 lessly and indifferently of any topic that sug- 
 gested itself as they sped upon their journey. 
 
 On arrival at Heath Lodge they found supper 
 ready, and the two sat down, after changing 
 their dress, with Caselli, the windows open to the 
 lawn outside, with the fragrance of heliotrope 
 wafted inwards, and the bright moon partly 
 lighting up the room, where the lamps had, for 
 coolness, been purposely turned low. 
 
 Caselli noticed the girl's silence and said, — 
 
28 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 ' Is my darling tired after her long day, or is 
 she thinking over some great problem which she 
 finds it hard to solve ? Come, tell father what is 
 sealing those red lips.' 
 
 She looked nervously at Agnew, as if asking 
 him to help her, and then remembered that she 
 had herself silenced him for a time. She smiled 
 and laid her hand affectionately upon Caselli's 
 shoulder. 
 
 1 1 am not sad, dearest father ; I am but tired. 
 I have had a happy day, and one that has left 
 me with many pleasant memories. They were 
 coming before my mind, as if conjured up on 
 canvas by your own gifted brush. Forgive me. 
 I should have remembered that you have been 
 alone and want to be cheered.' 
 
 So the girl rose and poured out a glass of 
 Chianti for each of the two men, and set herself 
 to give her father some of the delicacies which 
 were strewn about the table. Agnew could hardly 
 remove his eyes from her this evening. In her 
 puce-coloured satin dress, with its delicate white 
 lace trimming, so cut and disposed as to partly 
 bare her snowy and swelling bust, to display 
 almost the whole of her well-moulded arms, and 
 to outline the graceful limbs, the face of striking 
 purity of expression, the limpid eyes of velvety 
 softness, accentuated to-night by lines below of 
 rather darker hue than usual — the whole made 
 up a picture to him of the divine, and now that 
 his feelings had found expression, they grew 
 more intense each hour. 
 
 While the two men trifled with the supper, 
 sipped their wine and lighted cigars, she went 
 into the next room, leaving the door ajar, and 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 29 
 
 seating herself at the piano, sung in her melodious 
 voice her favourite ballads, with no notion of 
 coquetry towards her lover, but every note of 
 which thrilled his whole nature. 
 
 As they parted that night, for a moment she 
 held his hand in her two, casting down her eyes, 
 and then released him. He turned his looks 
 back to the house as he emerged from the garden 
 gate and saw the slender figure at the French 
 window opening to the lawn, and there was, he 
 thought, a wave towards him of one white hand. 
 
 He preferred to walk back to St James's that 
 night to taking a conveyance, that he might think 
 over what had taken place. Had he analysed his 
 feelings he might have discovered that the impres- 
 sion which Helen Caselli had made upon him was 
 a sensuous one. Her character had not been 
 formed. She had never been called upon to 
 exercise her own judgment in the important 
 affairs of life. She had never been tried by 
 trouble. She had no great purpose in life which 
 he might share with her. Helen's way of being 
 brought up was to enjoy art and nature. She 
 felt like one of a number of beautiful flowers in 
 a parterre. She had grown up like one of them, 
 nurtured in luxury and trained to be admired. 
 What had redeemed her from insipidity was her 
 quick intelligence, her quickly responsive tempera- 
 ment, and her keen discrimination between what 
 was elevating and what was degrading, a gift 
 grounded rather in her instincts than in a trained 
 religious faculty. In a spiritual sense those two 
 had never yet come upon a common basis, unless 
 it can be said that a mutual love of what is 
 beautiful makes that possible, 
 
3 o A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 However, these considerations did not, in his 
 present frame of mind, occur to Agnew. What 
 engrossed his whole thoughts was her exquisite 
 beauty of face and form, which he had never seen 
 excelled ; the grace of gesture and of movement, 
 quite untaught and unstudied — the expression out- 
 wardly, in fact, of refined feeling ; the frank 
 simplicity and innocence that marked her speech ; 
 the loving, trustful look of the moist eyes, and the 
 smile that played about parted lips and dimpled 
 cheek that seemed caught from heaven above. To 
 possess her as his wife, the ideal of physical beauty 
 that he had formed long past, to know and to 
 feel that his passion was reciprocated, to actually 
 realise all that this promised to afford, captivated 
 his senses at this juncture and left him no calm 
 moments in which to critically review their re- 
 spective positions. 
 
 Had he been too precipitate ? Had an infatua- 
 tion got the better of his reason ? Was the over- 
 powering passion he felt one that would last ? 
 Such questions, put mentally to himself as he 
 paced homeward, were easily disposed of for the 
 time. He had persuaded himself that their feel- 
 ings were one, and, if sympathy existed, that was 
 enough to justify a union for life. He thought 
 that her own had not been evoked to the same 
 extent as his ; but in what had passed to-day 
 he had discovered that her nature was tuned 
 to respond to his, and her young and untried 
 affections were turned the way he had desired to 
 draw them. The glimmer of a new dawn was in 
 the sky. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 A DAY after the events of the last chapter, Agnew 
 was dressing in his chambers in King Street when 
 a letter arrived from Helen. It commenced with- 
 out preamble, which suggested some hesitation on 
 the part of the writer as to what form of address 
 she should use. It ran, — 
 
 ' I have been thinking deeply, throughout the 
 long hours of a sleepless night, how to reply to 
 you. Believe me, I am proud as any girl in the 
 land to possess your love, and should, in any 
 event, always be grateful that you have offered it 
 to one who, you may be sure, feels so unworthy of 
 it. I seem to be on the brink of a dark and 
 fathomless gulf, without a guide to lead my totter- 
 ing footsteps out of danger. Be kind and patient 
 with me. Let one month pass ere I give you my 
 answer. You said recently that business would 
 take you to America. Go, now, and if you feel 
 the same for me on your return as you do now, 
 you shall come here to see me ; but if only a pass- 
 ing fancy has prompted your words, and absence 
 has changed you, believe me, I would fain that 
 you recalled them, and though I may mourn you 
 yet I shall willingly release you. HELEN.' 
 
 Agnew studied the letter for a full half-hour, 
 wrote a brief reply to the effect that he understood 
 
 31 
 
32 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 her, ' darling and best-beloved,' and would comply 
 with her wish, but that, as for himself, his mind 
 was made up. 
 
 His portmanteaus were packed the same day, 
 and he was on his way to Liverpool to embark 
 for New York. 
 
 A month actually passed without a word of 
 intelligence of Helen. Save during the voyage, 
 when his thoughts constantly reverted to her, and 
 a mental vision of her in her surpassing beauty 
 seemed ever before his gaze, he was sufficiently 
 distracted by business arrangements at several 
 places in the States to have somewhat foregone 
 the intensity of his passion had it been transient 
 or unreal. But he returned to London unchanged 
 in feeling and unswerving in his determination to 
 win the girl. It was, of course, his place to 
 acquaint her of his arrival, and to ask when he 
 could sec her. He wrote at once, and begged for 
 an immediate reply. It came by the night post, 
 couched in the fewest possible words that a modest 
 maiden in such a situation could use, — 
 
 ' I await you to-morrow evening at seven. 
 
 1 Helen.' 
 
 She had chosen an hour when she would be 
 dressed as he best liked to see her, and with her 
 charms displayed to the utmost. He understood 
 and enjoyed the construction he put upon her 
 message. There was a further reason why the 
 hour had suggested itself. It was that of twilight, 
 when her confusion would be less evident, and her 
 blushes could be better concealed than in the 
 garish light of day. Agnew, feeling sure that he 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 33 
 
 would remain the evening at Heath Lodge, dressed 
 for dinner, and hurrying off by cab, touched the 
 bell almost within a minute of the time appointed. 
 He was evidently expected, and passed into the 
 drawing-room unannounced. The red light of the 
 setting sun was shining through a tangled mass 
 of clematis and wisteria, and cast a warm glow 
 over the room, where, slightly in the shade of the 
 lace curtains, to one side of the window, reposed 
 the delicate figure of the girl in whom all his future 
 seemed at this moment to be bound up. She was 
 this evening in a light, gauzy fabric of white, with 
 a string of pearls round her snowy neck. Her face 
 was averted as she gazed into the garden, bashful 
 as she was to seem to welcome his approach ; her 
 lips were parted, and her breath came and went 
 hurriedly. Agnew advanced, after dwelling for a 
 moment upon the pretty picture, to within two 
 paces of her chair, and called her by name. 
 
 The girl rose, their eyes met, and he had an 
 answer to his question in her look. She came to 
 him and placed a hand upon each of his shoulders, 
 saying,— 
 
 ' George, you know why I am here to receive 
 you. Whether I love you as a wife should I can- 
 not, as a poor, untried little girl, know. But all 
 that is bright and happy for me in life seems to 
 be in you, and I yield myself, all that I have and 
 prize, to you, now and for ever. Be kind and 
 merciful to me, who am so weak and ignorant.' 
 
 She raised her dewy lips to be kissed, and, with 
 his arms clasped round her lithe form, he pressed 
 them long and often with his own. He seated 
 himself, and drew her upon his knee with his 
 arms still round her, while her head reposed upon 
 
 c 
 
34 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 his shoulder, and her breath played upon his cheek. 
 It was her first love, and the vehemence of his 
 caresses almost startled her. She seemed to glow 
 all over ; but with her eyes cast down, and not 
 under the scrutiny of his, she thought that she 
 was content, nay, happy, to be in his arms. A 
 long-cherished dream had taken shape, and she 
 seemed to be borne away upon a golden river to 
 lands radiant with eternal summer. Mere words 
 could not have told her the meaning of it all, and, 
 indeed, both thought the silent manner of love- 
 making the more expressive. She said at last, — 
 ' Speak to me, dearest ; say that you love me 
 no less now that I am yours.' 
 
 ' Darling Helen, you have given me what all my 
 life I have not yet had — the true love of a pure 
 and beautiful girl. You are young — a child, who 
 knows not the weary hours one spends amid the 
 changing scenes, the anxieties, the empty pleasures 
 of life, as one passes from youth to manhood, from 
 manhood to middle age, devoid of that sympathy 
 for which every soul longs. Do you think that I 
 can repent now that I have won the ideal that for 
 thirty years I have set before me ? No ! but it 
 may be that you, in your childishness, may deem 
 me grave and cold, and come to regret that you 
 have not the ardent love and freshness of a boy 
 sweetheart, of one who would play and toy 
 with you.' 
 
 She interrupted him by placing a soft hand 
 upon his lips, and raising her head, met his look 
 with the lovelight of her violet eyes. 
 
 'Never say so again; it pains me. If you will 
 always love me as you do .now, I shall never 
 change, even in thought, for a moment. Promise 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 35 
 
 me not to doubt. All that a woman can give I 
 have resolved to freely give to you. Is not that 
 a proof that I have no regrets ? It has been said 
 that we never change if our one love is constant 
 and ever fresh. I believe that. George, be always 
 to me as you are now, and I shall never waver. 
 But one thought saddens me and comes to make 
 bitter the sweetness of the moment. It is about 
 dear father. We shall leave him. He will be 
 alone. He cares for few people and will have 
 none to take my place. Oh, George, help me in 
 this trouble.' 
 
 The tears rolled slowly in a few large drops 
 over the peach bloom of her cheeks, which Agnew 
 dried with his handkerchief. He loved her the 
 more for her sensitiveness and this evidence of 
 her loving temperament. Kissing her lips again, 
 he said, — 
 
 ' Dearest little child, we will not lose him alto- 
 gether. I feel I can hardly tell him what has 
 happened. That it will be a deadly pain to him 
 I fear ; but we will try to make him hopeful. We 
 shall often be in England — at anyrate, every two 
 years. Then in the interval he must come to 
 us sometimes in Ceylon. He will find studies 
 for his brush that will enchant his soul, life and 
 colour that await a master hand to be faithfully 
 put upon canvas. And then there's you. You 
 are to be made happy with a husband that I am 
 sure your father likes and approves; and your 
 future is of more concern to him than his present 
 comfort. He thinks that every woman, if she 
 meets her proper destiny, should be happily 
 married ; and, depend upon it, your own case has 
 often been in his mind. Grieve not in anticipa- 
 
3 6 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 tion, sweetest ; we will try together to make the 
 prospect a pleasing one to him.' 
 
 The front door bell rang, and raising her lips 
 once more to his, she released herself from his 
 embrace and seated herself at the piano, turning 
 over the music somewhat at random. 
 
 The person to enter the house was Caselli him- 
 self, who had been out for his usual evening stroll 
 when the fading light necessitated his brushes 
 being laid by. 
 
 He came into the drawing-room, looked at both 
 the lovers, and saw that they were embarrassed, 
 but professed not to notice it. He advanced 
 briskly towards Agnew, holding out his hand, and 
 said, — 
 
 ' My friend, I am delighted to see you after your 
 long absence. You have come, I hope, to spend 
 the evening with us, and to enliven us with tales 
 of all you have seen and heard in America. Helen, 
 doubtless, has heard much already.' 
 
 As her father turned towards her she failed to 
 regain her composure, and left the room. 
 
 Agnew returned the greeting with warmth, and 
 forced himself at once to make his confession to 
 Caselli. 
 
 ' I am delighted to be back, and thoroughly re- 
 ciprocate your kind feeling. Now I must tell you 
 why I appear here uninvited. You cannot be 
 blind to the fact that the charm and grace of your 
 daughter have, equally with your own kindness 
 and hospitality, brought me here so often. She 
 has become necessary to my happiness, and to give 
 her time to think, to question with herself whether 
 she loves me well enough to give me her heart, I 
 have been away for a month, holding no word with 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 37 
 
 her. This evening I came for her answer, which 
 has been given, and has brought me happiness 
 such as I have never had, and to her, too, I trust. 
 And now you must say, as her father — and there is 
 none more devoted, I know — whether she shall be 
 mine, whether your child shall be a happy wife, 
 and have a strong arm to protect her for the rest 
 of her life.' 
 
 Poor Caselli had turned pallid, and half felt his 
 way to the nearest chair ; he sat down and covered 
 his face with his hands. Agnew remained stand- 
 ing, partly realising what pain he had given. He 
 gazed out upon the lawn, where the tall pampas 
 grass was waving its feathered tips in the evening 
 breeze, an omen, he thought, of triumph. After a 
 few minutes of deep silence the painter rose, his 
 face, as it were, furrowed by a great sorrow, but 
 composed in stern resolve. He passed his arm 
 through Agnew's, and said, — 
 
 ' George, I have seen this coming, but I hardly 
 knew whether it was more than the play of a pass- 
 ing fancy. My lovely girl— lovely in face as in 
 purity of mind — has been the priceless pearl which 
 I have treasured as more to me than my art, my 
 fame, and than all the world, since her mother left 
 us. I may not, I know, keep her as my own. But 
 must you take her far away beyond the seas so 
 that my eyes may, perhaps, light upon her no more 
 in this life ? Tell me that I shall see her, that I 
 may be near to you, and sometimes catch her tender 
 look and hear her sweet voice.' 
 
 'It is useless to hide from you, Caselli, that I 
 must return to Ceylon ; my work has lain there for 
 thirty years, and my fortune is bound up with the 
 island. But if you will, you shall come with us, if 
 
3 3 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 you will make your home with us. That would, 
 indeed, fill the cup of happiness of the darling girl. 
 Come, think of it. I have no selfish love for her 
 which would seclude her from others but myself. 
 We will hear what she will say. May I summon 
 her?' 
 
 Caselli bent his head in response, and Agnew, 
 touching the bell, asked the maid who attended to 
 beg her mistress to come down. 
 
 Helen, on entering, saw that her father had 
 been made aware of what had happened, and 
 running to his side, knelt down by his chair, 
 and taking his hand between hers, pressed it to 
 her lips and placed it against her hot cheek. 
 Caselli said, — 
 
 ' My love, there is your husband, and a more 
 worthy one I could not wish you. Under the grace 
 of the Divine Power may you both be blessed. 
 Your love for him will not make you forget your 
 poor father, of that I am sure.' 
 
 The tone of inquiry and the broken voice in 
 which the words were spoken caused the tears to 
 well out of the violet eyes and drop upon his hand 
 which the girl held. 
 
 ' Never, dearest and best of fathers, who has held 
 my hand and guided my steps from infancy, and 
 has taught me all that is good and noble, will my 
 love for you be less ? Be with us when you can, 
 give me the comfort of your presence often, for my 
 pain at parting will be like yours, save that I have 
 his love to soften it.' 
 
 The dinner hour was nigh and the lamps now 
 being lighted, and although all that had passed had 
 taken place in so brief a time, all three actors 
 seemed to feel as if weeks, even months, had 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 39 
 
 slipped by, so new and strange was the fresh tide 
 of feeling that had set in, and so different had 
 become the aspect in which life presented itself 
 J under the altered conditions of all. To-day was 
 boldly lettered in the calendar of their lives, from 
 which was to issue a new series of events ; a great 
 mark had been set up upon the highway of their 
 march through life, a starting-point for fresh hopes, 
 new doubts, for weal or for woe. They had all felt 
 the scene in the drawing-room to be rather painful, 
 and a natural reaction set in when it was over. At 
 dinner they were gay, and could bring themselves 
 to talk about Helen's new home in Ceylon ; the 
 beauties of its scenery, the interests of its native 
 races, the iridescent tints of its changeful skies, 
 the varieties of its perpetual blooms on mead and 
 forest tree, and the sparkling gems unearthed 
 below its rugged peaks. 
 
 To the girl it was an enchanted land of which 
 her conceptions had been heightened by the 
 agreeable aspect in which she was to view it. 
 Sunshine, colour and fragrance, to which her 
 nature was to be rendered exquisitely susceptible 
 by love. 
 
 They were married before a large number of 
 mutual friends in an English church — that in which 
 Agnew had been brought up. The girl had seldom 
 attended a service, and upon her own marriage, 
 with so large a crowd of spectators, herself the 
 centre of observation, she felt strangely fluttered. 
 Susceptible always to music and to artistic effect, 
 she thought she had never felt so seriously emo- 
 tional as at that moment. She seemed to be im- 
 pressed more than she had ever been before with 
 the sense of the new, the awful obligations she was 
 
4 o A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 contracting. The presence of so many living wit- 
 nesses, as it were, to her solemn promises intensified 
 her feelings. She bore up with an effort and forced 
 herself to be resolute. The words of the ritual 
 were by no means new to her, for she had made a 
 study of them for weeks before this day ; but now, 
 as an actor in this service, she seemed to interpret 
 them by living light. She really did, in her own 
 mind, faithfully subscribe to the promises which she 
 was called upon to make. But without conviction 
 as regards revealed truth she could hardly kneel at 
 the altar rails and bend in prayer without a mental 
 reservation. Even in this, the most solemn moment 
 of her young life, the mode by which she was 
 expected to approach God, the Creator, the Divine 
 Power, ' through Jesus Christ,' was a matter of great 
 perplexity. 
 
 Sometimes she had prayed when unhappy, and 
 for all the good she enjoyed there was always a 
 hymn of praise in her heart to the Almighty. So 
 far as she knew, prayer was not heard unless its 
 substance was in harmony with the natural order 
 and sequence of forces continually in operation. 
 One day she had asked her lover to explain to her 
 what was meant by the mediation of Jesus Christ, 
 and he failed, not having grasped the truth himself, 
 in giving her a satisfactory reply. He believed 
 that Jesus was a Divine Teacher who had suffered 
 persecution for His apostleship. His life was lovely, 
 and the truths He taught had penetrated the 
 lives and institutions of the great nations of the 
 West. 
 
 Helen was not satisfied with what she was told. 
 When she came to dwell upon even the last reflec- 
 tion, it seemed to have a great deal in it that was 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 41 
 
 suggestive. But she forgot to ask in all sincerity to 
 be spiritually taught what the truth was, to be 
 strengthened to preserve it, when found, at all 
 hazards. So for a time the impressions faded, 
 and she remained what she had been — full of good 
 impulses, but with uncultivated religious instincts 
 — a heathen. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 The time came for them to leave behind the sor- 
 rowing father and all the cherished memories of 
 Helen's home at Heath Lodge. It was a grief in 
 which she would fain have found some comfort in 
 spiritual belief if she had possessed it. She felt no 
 more under the divine protection than the cedars 
 and pampas grass that stand upon the lawn. Philo- 
 sophy lent no colour to the aspect of her future 
 life. In the ordinary process of events she would 
 see and know little again of her past home. Her 
 father, now past middle age, must gradually decline, 
 and the parting with her had hastened his course ; 
 she could see that. Was there no appeal to God 
 to cause, by the operation of new or unknown laws, 
 the arrest or the alteration of phenomena, the 
 regular occurrence of which was patent to her 
 senses, and, so far as she knew, inevitable? She 
 knew of none such at this time, and in her own 
 weakness and helplessness the pain of separation 
 was like a stab which had no salve. 
 
 When she hung round her father's neck for the 
 last time, she whispered but the word ' hope,' and 
 tore herself away, feeling as a delicate plant per- 
 haps feels when suddenly wrenched from its roots 
 and cast ruthlessly upon the waves to be the sport 
 of every wind. 
 
 On the voyage the Agnews fell in with several 
 42 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 43 
 
 Ceylon friends, among whom was Harold Norton, 
 who had an estate up in the mountains by Adam's 
 Peak. 
 
 Like most who came into contact with Helen, 
 he was captivated by her great beauty and by her 
 simplicity of mind. He constantly sought her 
 society, and, gifted with pleasant manners and 
 handsome appearance, soon rendered himself ac- 
 ceptable. Rather than appear to wish to seclude 
 his wife or to seem to be jealous, Agnew gave her the 
 utmost liberty, and apparently welcomed the advent 
 of his old friend. The circumstances of a long voy- 
 age throw much together even the most incompatible 
 people, and where there is inclination for an inti- 
 macy, nowhere can it be better indulged. After a 
 few days Norton could scarcely think of anyone 
 else on board the ship but his friend's wife. The 
 long tropical evenings were the most enjoyable, 
 when, in the growing darkness, everyone sought 
 the deck, and dressed in cool attire, sat or walked, 
 and felt their best in the welcome breeze caused by 
 the speed of the steamer's motion. 
 
 Norton and Mrs Agnew one night were leaning 
 over the taffrail watching the last red glow of the 
 sunset behind the rugged and forbidding moun- 
 tians of the Red Sea littoral. He said, — 
 
 ' Mrs Agnew, we shall prize you in Ceylon. I 
 do not think your husband could, if he had tried, 
 prepared a pleasanter surprise for us colonists when 
 he decided to bring you out. I hope you will be 
 able to come up country sometimes and see his old 
 friends.' 
 
 ' You may be sure, Mr Norton,' she replied, ' that 
 his friends will be mine too. Our interests are too 
 much in common for it to be otherwise. We have 
 
44 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 few thoughts which we do not share. Ceylon is to 
 be my new home, and I shall, I am certain, learn 
 to like the many people there for whom my husband 
 has an affection.' 
 
 ' Have you left any special friends behind you ? ' 
 
 ' I have known few whom I could exactly call 
 friends. A number of people used to come to my 
 father's house whose society was pleasant — mostly 
 men who moved in artistic and literary circles in 
 London. They met to exchange ideas which 
 their work had suggested, or to discuss the more 
 striking phenomena of the day. I am afraid I am 
 a little spoilt for the ordinary frivolities of the 
 drawing-room and the tea-table.' 
 
 ' I hope/ Norton said, ' you will let me be a 
 frequent guest. A man alone, and in my line of 
 life, has many dull moments. In company with a 
 woman like you, one feels refreshed — I should say 
 renovated — in spirit. Your tone and refinement 
 lift a man above the coarser pastimes to which he 
 generally resorts when a gentle woman's influence 
 is wanting.' 
 
 ' I am sure my husband would wish you to see 
 us often,' Helen replied, slightly smiling at the 
 stilted notion of herself that he was aiming to 
 give. ' I think, without my asking him, that you 
 may always look for a welcome.' 
 
 1 I should like to be a special friend, if I might 
 dare to think myself such, but I will trust to my 
 luck for that.' 
 
 1 I do not know what you imply in that term, 
 Mr Norton. I have no " special friends " at pre- 
 sent, and can promise you no privileges. I intend 
 that my husband and I should think alike. Be 
 natural, and you will be nice.' 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 45 
 
 ' I did not mean to imply anything you would 
 not find acceptable ; but abroad, somehow, one 
 generally, by an insensible process, selects a few 
 people to whom one grows attached by " affinity," 
 I think. Ultimately, one often learns to love, but 
 I do not mean to say that it prompts only one sort 
 of feeling. Do not you think that one can love in 
 several ways ? ' 
 
 Her thoughts went back to her old home, to the 
 grey-haired father, now perhaps pacing the lawn 
 under the cedar trees, and she sighed, saying 
 rather sadly, — 
 
 ' Yes, I do know something of what you mean. 
 I have two loves even now, but in your wide sense 
 I cannot agree — my world has been so small, your 
 experiences no doubt so many. Perhaps you are 
 able to parcel your heart out in small pieces. 
 That seems to me to leave devotion out of sight. 
 We must search ourselves to see whether we be 
 true. But I like you ; I think I shall always like 
 you.' 
 
 1 1 am charmed, Mrs Agnew, to think that you 
 will show me some sort of preference. I am 
 proud.' 
 
 Her white hand was lying on the rail near his, 
 and in the darkness he laid his upon it. She 
 snatched hers away immediately, and said, — 
 
 ' I did not say that, Mr Norton. I think we 
 will go into the saloon ; there is some music this 
 evening.' 
 
 She turned away rather vexed, especially with 
 the liberty he had taken. Indeed, she resented 
 the familiarity it implied on the part of one who 
 was the acquaintance of a few days only. She did 
 not know whether or no she ought to mention it to 
 
46 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 her husband. It would, she reflected, however, 
 make him angry ; there would be a scene with 
 Harold Norton ; and here, on board ship of all 
 places, it would be intensely disagreeable. In her 
 own happiness she rather pitied him, too, with- 
 out anyone to love ; so she decided to remain 
 silent. 
 
 For a few days Helen managed to avoid being 
 alone with Norton, and pointedly remained as 
 much as possible by her husband's side. His 
 habit was to read a great deal, while she would 
 occupy herself with the little contrivances in the 
 way of fancy work which save the owner from the 
 reproach of being idle, but of which there is so 
 little to show for the time and talent spent upon 
 them. 
 
 To relieve the monotony of the long run 
 through the Indian Ocean, dramatic performances 
 were got up, and the young bride could not escape 
 being enlisted for them. Her parts seemed con- 
 stantly to throw her with Norton, and often in 
 tender situations. He took ample advantage of 
 the opportunities afforded him in the rehearsals to 
 be realistic. Indeed, nothing could have pleased 
 him better than to have to make love, if only in 
 the exigencies of the drama, to his beautiful com- 
 panion. She herself took a girlish pleasure in it in 
 all simplicity, and responded for the nonce without 
 reserve. If she had been a practised artist she 
 might have noticed that Norton's attentions were 
 too pronounced, and too frequently in evidence. 
 However, it did not enter her imagination that 
 they had any great significance, and consequently 
 took no further steps to discourage them. She 
 certainly enjoyed his admiration. It flattered her 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 47 
 
 to know that others than her husband thought her 
 lovely. Still, it did not make her waver in her 
 allegiance to him. 
 
 But Norton had, in the few weeks of their lives 
 on board ship, become the victim of a passion that 
 was all the stronger because it was a forbidden 
 and a secret one, and by the time they reached 
 Colombo every moment that he could not spend 
 in the company of Helen and bask in her smiles 
 seemed irksome and profitless. Matters stood 
 thus at the time at which our story opens. 
 Agnew had done nothing to check the inter- 
 course which had become so frequent between his 
 wife and Norton. He felt too sure of her attach- 
 ment, of her constancy — it might be said of her 
 devotion — to be in any way uneasy at the very 
 apparent familiarity that had been established. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 DHARMAFUTA, the Buddhist priest, would leave 
 his monastery near Matila for three months 
 every year, and spend a portion of the time in 
 Colombo. Panabokki's family looked forward to 
 his annual visit. He had been the teacher of 
 Panabokki in his childhood, and still remained 
 his spiritual adviser. Combined with great strict- 
 ness of moral life and severe simplicity of manners, 
 he had a profound knowledge of the world and 
 acute insight into human nature — presented to 
 him as it was in the native world of Ceylon in such 
 varied types. He possessed, besides, an extensive 
 acquaintance with the Buddhist holy books, as 
 well as of the historical records of the island. In 
 rigid conformity with the rules enjoined for monks, 
 he permitted himself no indulgences except in 
 times of sickness, and his usual regime barely 
 sufficed to maintain his bodily health. He was, 
 under these circumstances, regarded by all with 
 much reverence, and especially by the Panabokki 
 family, who had the privilege of his intimate 
 acquaintance. When he spoke, which was not 
 often, they all seemed to wait open-mouthed upon 
 his words, and his opinions upon mundane as well 
 as religious matters were received as almost indis- 
 putable. He was advanced in age, and with his 
 shaven head, his face shrunken from long abstin- 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 49 
 
 ence, with half-closed eyes weary with many vigils, 
 and clothed in his yellow robe, he presented an 
 admirable picture of an old ascetic. With all his 
 study, with all the philosophy which he had 
 evolved in years of meditation, with the exercise 
 of all his unusual powers of observation, with con- 
 stant adherence to the rules of his order, he yet 
 felt but a spiritless resignation to inevitable 
 destiny. What the issue of this long life of self- 
 suppression was to be was unknown to the aged 
 priest. It might be that his earnest endeavours 
 would secure him a subsequent existence of a 
 higher type than the present, but of this he was 
 even uncertain. No revelation had come to him to 
 enlighten him in his passage to the Unknown. He 
 had, indeed, by sedulous forgetfulness of sensual 
 impulse, schooled himself into unnatural calm, but 
 his was a mentally vacuous repose, untroubled 
 indeed by the passions of the world, but yet 
 uncoloured by such hopes as appeal directly to 
 all human nature. At times his innate geniality 
 would assert itself, and, particularly in the society 
 of his friends, their affection and sympathy would 
 appeal to and draw out of his heart that which his 
 long life of asceticism had been unable to destroy. 
 He would unbend, and enter into their simple 
 enjoyments, and discuss with them their worldly 
 plans. 
 
 It was during one of his visits that Kirimanica 
 entered hastily from school in the evening, and 
 excitedly going up to her mother, said, — 
 
 1 Mother, the Reverend Superior has proposed 
 to take us all next Sunday to St Lucia's Cathedral 
 to the service. The Vicar Apostolic is to preach. 
 But we are to ask our parents for permission 
 
 D 
 
5 o A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 before her reverence can do so. Mother, I should 
 so like to go. Do not refuse me.' 
 
 The mother hesitated, not knowing how to 
 reply in the presence of Dharmaputa. She was 
 occupied in dusting the ornaments which stood 
 upon the ebony cabinet at the back of the room. 
 There was silence for a few moments, when she 
 suddenly turned, and said, — 
 
 1 What does the Mahanunanse counsel ? ' 
 
 Dharmaputa's eyes seemed to be directed to 
 the inscrutable future, but he replied, — 
 
 1 If it were to learn the truth the girl should go ; 
 but she has heard it from her childhood. A fol- 
 lower of the Lord Buddha knows nothing of the 
 bloody sacrifice which is held up to worship in the 
 Christian churches, and by which the Christians 
 think themselves saved. It rests with you, her 
 mother, to guide her.' 
 
 He gathered up his yellow robe, took his fan in 
 his hand, and left, followed by the boy disciple 
 who usually accompanied him. 
 
 The child saw that the time was unfavourable 
 and stole away to her room to prepare her lessons 
 for the next day. She was accustomed to be 
 restrained in many ways now that she was grow- 
 ing into womanhood, and it excited no discontent 
 within her. It seemed but to excite speculation, 
 and led her to indulge in dreams, where her active 
 interests could have no play. 
 
 She industriously applied herself to her books, 
 and by the time that the golden rays from the 
 west were lighting up the tall palms behind the 
 house, she had finished, and reposing her graceful 
 figure in an easy-chair, lifted her eyes to the 
 summits of the trees, where a noisy congress of 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 51 
 
 crows was taking place prior to the disappearance 
 of the birds for the night. She thought that the 
 more she learned every day, and the wider became 
 the vista of her future life, the more difficult was it 
 to bring herself to think of an indissoluble union 
 with Rambanda, so uncultivated and unimaginative, 
 and to be hidden from the outer world away in 
 a deep valley among the hills at Matila. This im- 
 pending destiny seemed to hang like a cloud over 
 her young life. She felt sure that she would never 
 be coerced into this marriage by her parents, but 
 still their wishes were strong, and it would go hard 
 with her to disregard them. She sighed in her 
 helplessness. The sky had reddened, and the 
 neutral tints were now in the ascendant. The 
 brass lamps with the flaming wicks, used in the 
 back of the house, were being lighted. Her father 
 had just returned from the Court, and was heard 
 in the next room as he moved about, changing 
 his dress. 
 
 Suddenly there was an unusual noise in the 
 road just outside the garden gate, a crash of 
 vehicles colliding, of restive horses, and the cries 
 of alarmed natives. The mother and daughter 
 hurried to the front verandah, while Panabokki 
 and the man-servant ran down the walk to see 
 what had occurred. In the growing darkness of 
 the evening two carriages had crossed each other, 
 and the one, a dog-cart driven by a young 
 Englishman, had been upset, and the driver 
 thrown forcibly to the ground. Panabokki's 
 servant bore a light and shed its light upon 
 a senseless figure which lay upon the road, 
 surrounded by a crowd of natives from the 
 neighbouring bazaar. The horse -keeper had 
 
52 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 control of the horse, and the ready assistance 
 of the bystanders, always offered in an Eastern 
 town, had enabled, in a few minutes, the cart to 
 be righted. But the figure no one liked to touch 
 until Panabokki pushed his way through the 
 crowd, and, pressing the aid of two onlookers, 
 raised the fair head which was prone in the dust, 
 a trickle of blood from the nostrils showing the 
 severity of the impact. They staggered up the 
 garden path with the senseless burden, and, enter- 
 ing the house, deposited it upon the sofa in the 
 front room. Panabokki motioned to the women 
 to withdraw. But their curiosity was too great to 
 allow them to go further than the inner doorway, 
 from which they would occasionally peep in order 
 to see what was going on. The man-servant was 
 sent with a message to the nearest doctor, and for 
 a short time no one was in waiting to afford help 
 to the master of the house but his wife and child. 
 He unfastened the collar and shirt of the young 
 man, and called for water. Kirimanica, who was 
 palpitating with alarm and surprise, ran to fetch 
 what was wanted, and returned, bearing a brass 
 basin and a soft, white cloth, gazing with interest 
 upon the handsome features, the clear skin, the 
 fair hair and manly form of the patient. Her 
 father soaked the cloth in the water, wrung it out, 
 and applied it gently over the brow and face, and 
 to the top and back of the head. The bleeding at 
 the nose still continued, and had to be staunched 
 by the same means. A few drops fell upon the 
 covering of the sofa beneath, and Panabokki, 
 lifting the young Englishman, passed a towel 
 below him. The bathing was continued in silence 
 for a quarter of an hour. The outer doors had 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 53 
 
 been shut to prevent the curious from intruding, 
 and the apprehension of the inmates as to the 
 ultimate results of the accident increased each 
 moment. Suddenly the eyes slowly opened, and 
 gazed in bewilderment at the surroundings, and 
 at the figures bent over him. What seemed to 
 attract them most was the beauty of the girl 
 standing by his side, as she held the basin in both 
 hands, with the water now stained red with his 
 blood ; the intense look of sympathy, not unmixed 
 with admiration, brought a responsive, although 
 almost imperceptible, smile to his lips. It was 
 indeed a pretty picture that met his eyes. He 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 ' Where am I ? What has happened ? ' and 
 endeavouring to lift himself, he felt at once an 
 acute pain in his head, which elicited a groan. 
 The girl's eyes were tearful, and her breath came 
 and went quickly. 
 
 Panabokki said, — 
 
 ' Lie still, sir, until assistance arrives. You 
 have been thrown from your carriage, and perhaps 
 injured badly. A doctor has been sent for. No 
 doubt your friends will remove you if it can be 
 done safely.' 
 
 The young man again closed his eyes, and a 
 painful stillness pervaded the room. Panabokki 
 motioned to the girl and to his wife, who stood 
 with a ewer of fresh water in her hands, to with- 
 draw, and seated himself in a chair near the couch. 
 He had never received English people in his house, 
 and felt rather annoyed with himself that he had 
 allowed the privacy of his family to be thus in- 
 truded upon. However, it had been a duty to him 
 as a Buddhist to help one in distress, and of a 
 
54 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 quick, sympathetic temperament, he felt compas- 
 sion for the sufferer. 
 
 The others were outside in the passage leading 
 to the back rooms, speaking in low whispers. 
 They knew little of foreigners in a social sense, 
 and their surprise and curiosity had no bounds 
 at this moment. Who could he be? Would he 
 have to stay here ? Or would it be safe to remove 
 him? Would there be any public inquiry into 
 the accident, and would they be dragged from 
 their seclusion to give evidence ? It was a 
 perplexing situation, and the girl felt so troubled 
 that she clasped her mother's hand for safety. 
 
 The victim of the accident was sufficiently 
 collected to understand that he was in a strange 
 position. He had never before been inside a 
 native house — that is to say, in one inhabited by 
 people of consideration socially. He noted the 
 indications of refined taste in the few pictures and 
 ornaments that were arranged about the room, 
 and the grace with which some arum lilies and 
 ferns were arranged in a vase by the window. In 
 Colombo the English and Singhalese were so 
 separate — perhaps each so conservative in habit — 
 that he hardly knew how the latter lived. This 
 evening a new interest had arisen for him. The 
 master of the house had certainly been most kind. 
 None of his own people could have done more in 
 this emergency. And again, this girl was charming. 
 There must be more beauty in the race than he 
 had supposed. Panabokki had arranged on the 
 table some restoratives which his wife had pro- 
 duced from a cupboard and sent in quietly 
 by the hand of the servant, and seeing the 
 young man move restlessly, he mixed and 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 55 
 
 made him drink a small glass of brandy and 
 water. 
 
 A knock was heard at the door, and the bars 
 being withdrawn, the doctor entered, spoke in an 
 undertone to Panabokki, and, after examining 
 the patient, went outside with the former and said 
 that the young man must be removed to the 
 hospital in a litter, and probably after treatment 
 for a week or two would be about again. The 
 conveyance was shortly brought and placed by 
 the side of the sofa in order that removal might 
 be effected with as little pain as possible. Al- 
 though bidden to be silent, the young man could 
 not forbear to express his gratitude. He mur- 
 mured, — 
 
 ' 1 shall always remember your kindness, your 
 great kindness, sir, to a stranger ; forgive me that I 
 cannot say more now. I should like to thank the 
 ladies, if I may.' 
 
 Panabokki, rather reluctantly, called in his wife 
 and daughter, who, casting their eyes downward, 
 advanced to the side of the sofa. The young 
 Englishman extended his hand feebly and took 
 that of the elder and younger in turn. He noticed 
 that both were well favoured, and thatof the girl 
 was particularly cool and soft. His grasp was 
 warmer than hers, which was scarcely demon- 
 strative, and lasted longer than she expected, 
 evidently, for she raised her eyes suddenly in 
 surprise and met his with rather a frightened look. 
 He said,—' I thank you cordially, ladies, for your 
 extreme kindness, and feel honoured by your 
 presence.' 
 
 Both were quite unable to reply, being 
 thoroughly discomposed by the circumstances of 
 
56 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 the evening, and by never before having been 
 brought into contact with an Englishman. They 
 withdrew. The master apologised. 
 
 'They are unused to see English visitors, but 
 they are glad to have helped you.' 
 
 The litter was arranged, the curtains drawn, and, 
 a man preceding the conveyance with a lantern, 
 the patient was borne away into the darkness. 
 
 The members of the family and the two servants 
 all pretended to be going about their usual occupa- 
 tions for the rest of the evening, but were all 
 thoroughly upset by the extraordinary incident 
 which had occurred. The dinner was quite 
 deranged, and although served as usual, the only 
 edible articles were vegetable curry and rice. 
 Panabokki was in a manner vexed that a total 
 stranger should have had access, even by accident, 
 to his house in such an intimate way, with the 
 women present. He believed that most English- 
 men lived rather free lives, and it annoyed him to 
 reflect that his daughter had been brought into 
 contact with one who, he could not help seeing, 
 was particularly attractive. Her curious mind 
 and adventurous spirit would receive a fresh 
 stimulus from the unusual and exciting events of 
 the evening. He hasily finished his meal, lighted 
 a cigar, and, seating himself in an arm-chair, took 
 up the newspaper. His wife went outside, after 
 the table was cleared, to have a good talk with 
 the servants over the whole matter. The girl took 
 up her books as usual, but found herself too dis- 
 tracted to read. She was full of speculation about 
 the stranger, as to who he was, whether he would 
 come there again, how he was doing, and why he 
 shook hands with her, a quiet, obscure little thing, 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 57 
 
 so impressively. Her eyes were constantly upon 
 the sofa. The others, perhaps, had not noticed 
 the fact, but she could see three little dark spots, 
 just below the cushion, where his blood had 
 dropped. She could picture him lying there now. 
 What beauty there was in that blonde hair, those 
 blue eyes, and the fair skin, when compared with 
 the dark tints of those of her native land. What 
 he said, too, seemed to come straight from his 
 heart, and its truth to shine out of his eyes. She 
 could believe anything he would say to her like 
 that. There was no pretence in his address. And 
 how sad it was to see him, so full of muscular 
 strength, lying helpless ! They had succoured him, 
 however ; even she had done so herself. Would 
 he remember that ? Hardly was it possible that, 
 moving in such different spheres, she would meet, 
 even see, him again. Perhaps the whole incident 
 would be a memory only to him. But she liked 
 to think that her humble offices would not be 
 quite forgotten. 
 
 That night, after the strange event of the 
 evening, Kirimanica felt disinclined to sleep. The 
 back door of her room opened to the small garden 
 behind the house, which was thickly planted with 
 cocoa-nut trees and hedged on both sides, to pre- 
 vent intrusion from the neighbouring properties, 
 with thick bushes overgrown with convolvulus. 
 The little place was almost secluded from observa- 
 tion, but the hedges being in parts only breast 
 high permitted a glimpse of the adjoining houses. 
 The moon gave sufficient light to tempt the little 
 maid to step out upon the grass and to turn 
 her eyes hesitatingly upon the glistening foliage 
 and half-closed flowers that bounded the view 
 
5 8 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 almost on every side. She felt differently to-night 
 to what she had ever done before. Something had 
 seemed to stimulate her imagination, and in an 
 unexplained way to cause her pulses to beat more 
 quickly than was usual. She looked up at the 
 fleecy clouds flying across the sky and inter- 
 cepting the light now and again, and tried to 
 weave a coming romance out of their fantastic 
 shapes. The sound of music stirred her soul as 
 the last cloud disappeared and the full radiance of 
 the moon fell upon her delicate features, and the 
 happy coincidence came to her as a good omen. 
 The night was so still that the words of the singer, 
 in glorious voice, were borne to the girl from the 
 open windows of the next house : — 
 
 ' There is no life that hath not held some sorrow, 
 There is no soul but hath its secret strife ; 
 Still our eyes smile, our hearts pray for to-morrow, 
 Fair in its promise of more perfect life.' 
 
 The child listened, insensible to all other feel- 
 ings, so much had the melody blended with the 
 peculiar impression she had received that evening. 
 She wrapped her muslin robe tightly around her, 
 and, barefooted, advanced to where she could see 
 through a break in the hedge across the lawn to 
 Lotus Hall, which was brilliant with many lights. 
 The music was there, and many people were 
 sitting in the verandah and standing in the doorway. 
 Some, attracted by the fineness of the night, were 
 sitting out on the lawn. 
 
 The handsome dresses and sparkling jewellery 
 of the ladies shone out against the dark back- 
 ground of the foliage, and the unaccustomed sight 
 filled the girl with interest, and perhaps excited in 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 59 
 
 her a little envy. How beautiful they looked, with 
 their fair hair and snowy bosoms ! and how wholly 
 free and unfettered they seemed to be ! While 
 she watched, one more beautiful than the rest 
 emerged from the drawing-room in company with 
 a tall man, distinguished by handsome features 
 and dark moustache. The two were Helen and 
 Harold Norton. She seemed to be playing 
 nervously with her fan, and to cast her eyes 
 downwards. They sauntered down the verandah, 
 and turned the south angle into the fernery. 
 Pendant lights, distributed among the feathery 
 foliage, revealed what was passing within. They 
 had stopped before a trail of orchid blossoms, and 
 seemed to be admiring their beauty, when he 
 sought her right hand with his, and held it while 
 he spoke. She had avoided his look, and her face 
 was averted, and it seemed to Kirimanica as if 
 she strove to release her hand. He stooped and 
 kissed it. After a minute she turned towards 
 her companion, with heightened colour in her face, 
 and said something which caused him to loosen 
 his grasp, and they turned rather hurriedly and 
 rejoined the company. The girl noticed that 
 another man, apparently the master of the house, 
 watched their approach rather pointedly, although 
 engaged in conversation with some of the guests, 
 and she thought that for a moment he looked 
 angry. How strange it all was ! how delightful 
 to be free from the irksome restraints common to 
 women of her own race ! And this was the world 
 in which the young man moved who had that 
 evening lain in their house ! A denizen of this 
 higher and brighter world, it was scarcely possible 
 that he would stoop even to know her family 
 
6o A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 again, and yet the words he spoke sounded honest, 
 and the look of his eyes was true. 
 
 The party was breaking up, carriages rolling 
 down the avenue, and dispersing right and left 
 on the Colpetty Road. A gong banged out the 
 midnight hour. The girl stole silently to her 
 room, and there was just a sigh as she threw her- 
 self on her couch, after casting off her wrapper, 
 and murmured, ' Lord Buddha, protect us.' 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 NEXT morning, at the early breakfast of the 
 Panabokki family, the events of the past evening 
 were, of course, the continued topic of conversation. 
 They were curious to know who the young English- 
 man could be. No name had been left. Of course, 
 it could be ascertained by inquiry at the hos- 
 pital, and the wife thought that the circumstances 
 demanded that the master of the house should 
 call there to ask after the patient's health. Were 
 he one of their own people it would be done. But 
 Panabokki was disinclined to move out of his 
 usual groove, and especially averse to seeming to 
 intrude among English people. It might lead to 
 an impression that he desired further acquaintance. 
 And yet it would appear unfeeling to display no 
 interest in the young man's condition. He was 
 perplexed, and his wife and daughter, in their 
 inexperience, could offer no suggestion. Kiri- 
 manica sat silent, her eyes dreamily directed to 
 the heaving waves which broke out far from their 
 house upon the beach. She was, in truth, afraid 
 to speak for fear of betraying the feeling that 
 possessed her. The mother, when breakfast was 
 finished and the master was preparing to go to his 
 work, laid her hand on his shoulder and said, — 
 
 1 1 think it will be well to send Antone to the 
 hospital to ask after the gentleman, and he shall 
 
 61 
 
62 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 carry some flowers as our token of respect and 
 kind inquiry.' 
 
 Panabokki turned, and replied smilingly, — 
 
 ' Clever wife, you have thought of the best way, 
 and have solved the difficulty. Let it be so, and 
 send the best flowers that can be got.' 
 
 Kirimanica felt the blood rush to her cheeks, 
 but hardly changed colour, which is an uncommon 
 thing with her race, and jumped up to help in this 
 little enterprise. They had not sufficient choice 
 flowers in their own garden for the purpose, that 
 was clear. She cut all the arum lilies they pos- 
 sessed, and Antone, from his friend, the gardener 
 at Lotus Hall, obtained some more, while Kiri- 
 manica, making a short excursion down the road 
 to a schoolfellow's house, secured some marigolds 
 and zinnias. In half an hour they had ready a 
 beautiful bouquet, set in graceful edging of maiden- 
 hair fern. To tell the truth, the girl did most of it 
 with her own hands, and bound the stems in wet 
 moss, in order to keep the flowers fresh while in 
 transit to the hospital. It was placed in a basket, 
 and over the top of that was placed a handkerchief 
 of her own, well sprinkled with water. 
 
 Antone put on a clean white jacket to make 
 his appearance respectable, and presented himself 
 at the front door, umbrella in hand, to start upon 
 his errand. It was half-past nine in the morning, 
 and the sun's rays were ardent. The wife of 
 Panabokki gave her instructions to Antone, which 
 were to take the flowers to the hospital, and to ask 
 the attendant to deliver them to the injured gentle- 
 man who last evening lay in Panabokki's house, 
 and to inquire from the master how he was doing. 
 
 The girl was now on her way to school, and for 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 63 
 
 a short distance on the road would walk with 
 Antone. She had her eyes fixed upon the basket 
 of flowers, and remarked, — 
 
 ' Antone, the sun is hot, let the flowers be under 
 the shade of your umbrella. Do you think they 
 will keep fresh until you reach the hospital?' 
 
 'Yes, miss; trust Antone to hurry. It will not 
 be half an hour before the gentleman has them. 5 
 
 1 What are you going to say, Antone ? ' 
 
 ' My master, Panabokki, has sent these flowers 
 to the English gentleman who was brought to his 
 house wounded last night, and master wants to 
 know how he is.' 
 
 c Is that all you are going to say ? ' 
 
 ' What would you have me do more, miss ? ' 
 
 She looked down to the ground for a few 
 minutes as they paced rapidly forward, then said, — 
 
 ' He might want to know who put the flowers 
 together.' 
 
 Antone looked puzzled, and began to feel that 
 his power of memory was being overtaxed. The 
 girl watched him closely, and remarked, — 
 
 ' I think you ought to see the gentleman if you 
 can, and deliver what you carry. We all feel sorry 
 for his hurt. You could tell him that. And then his 
 name we know not. He forgot to acquaint us. 
 Those attending upon him will be able to say it.' 
 
 Antone stared at the girl with some surprise, 
 and said, — 
 
 ' Good ! ' 
 
 They had arrived at the door of the schoolhouse 
 of Santa Maria. She stooped and lifted the hand- 
 kerchief to view the flowers below, inhaled their 
 sweet perfume, and, satisfied that they were still 
 in pristine freshness, tenderly replaced the cover- 
 
64 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 ing. Suddenly a thought occurred to her, and she 
 dived in her school bag for her purse, which, being 
 opened, revealed one silver piece, long preserved 
 there from the last feast day. She held it to 
 Antone, saying, — 
 
 ( This will pay for a ricksha. I think you ought 
 to go quickly, Antone, this hot morning, or the 
 flowers will wither. Remember all I have told you.' 
 
 He readily seated himself in the conveyance 
 procured near at hand, and the girl having watched 
 him from the doorstep until he was out of sight, 
 abstractedly, and, for the first time, a little un- 
 willingly, turned into the convent. 
 
 The period of morning school was three hours. 
 They seemed to Kirimanica that day to be longer 
 than she had ever known them. She was also 
 called to attention several times by the teachers, 
 which had never before been necessary. Some- 
 thing, too, had happened to her to change her feel- 
 ing towards her companions. Hitherto they had 
 all been children together. Now she seemed to 
 have become distanced from the little amusements 
 and trivial interests in which they had all been 
 wont to find their pleasure. It was as if her past 
 life had been a loitering in some secluded alley in 
 the forests, and that she had emerged unexpectedly 
 upon the summit of a hill, from whence there was 
 a vision of an undreamt-of landscape, resplendent 
 in the tropical sun with vivid hues and glittering- 
 streams unlimited in bounds, but failing to be 
 wholly grasped by the untutored eye. There had 
 been a want, sometimes a craving, in her young 
 nature, which seemed suddenly to have been met 
 in a measure — a new hope which she could nurture 
 within herself. 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 65 
 
 Kirimanica jumped up from her seat with alacrity 
 as the convent bell rang the half-hour past noon, 
 and hurried home. Her mother was seated work- 
 ing in the front room, and Antone preparing the 
 things for lunch in the back verandah. The look 
 of inquiry in the girl's face escaped the elder 
 woman, whose thoughts were intent upon a subject 
 other than that which occupied her daughter's 
 mind. The latter, putting down her books, and 
 coming to where her mother sat, stood rather be- 
 hind her, as if to conceal herself from view, and 
 placing her arm round her mother's neck, said, — 
 
 ' Dear mother, did Antone come back ? ' 
 
 ' A long time since, my daughter ; he is now at 
 his work.' 
 
 ' Did he give our flowers, and how was the 
 gentleman ? ' 
 
 ' The flowers were accepted, and the gentleman 
 is said to be doing well.' 
 
 Was that all ? The girl felt a chill of disappoint- 
 ment. She withdrew her arm from the affectionate 
 embrace and remarked, — 
 
 1 That is good news, mother, is it not ? ' 
 
 Kirimanica found Antone more communicative. 
 She sat in a chair in the verandah while he was 
 cleaning the china and glass. She said, — 
 
 'Did you reach the hospital in good time, 
 Antone?' 
 
 He stopped in his work of polishing a plate and 
 replied, — 
 
 'Yes, miss, very soon after your school-time. 
 I was kept waiting ten minutes. At first no- 
 body knew what gentleman was asked for. At 
 last a nurse came out, and I told her. I 
 begged to see the gentleman who was hurt in the 
 
 E 
 
66 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 Colpetty Road last night, and whom Panabokki 
 tended.' 
 
 'Yes, Antone,' said the girl, her eyes dilated 
 with curiosity ; ' and did she take you to the 
 gentleman ? ' 
 
 ' She said at first that she had better deliver the 
 flowers. The doctor does not like strangers com- 
 ing inside, and the gentleman was quiet and should 
 not be disturbed. But just then a bell rang, and 
 the gentleman's own servant came out to fetch the 
 nurse, who was wanted for some purpose in the 
 ward. I told the servant my errand, and begged 
 his help.' 
 
 ' Well, and what then happened ? ' 
 
 1 We went inside. The gentleman was lying on 
 the bed with his face turned to the wall. The 
 servant spoke gently, and his master turned slowly. 
 He was very pale, and his head was bound with 
 white cloth.' 
 
 ( And did the master then learn why you had 
 come, and from whom ? ' 
 
 ' The servant stooped, and lifting the handker- 
 chief, showed the flowers to the gentleman. They 
 were fresh and fragrant. The gentleman seemed 
 pleased. He said, in a low voice, " Who has sent 
 these ? " The servant looked at me.' 
 
 1 Yes, Antone,' said the girl, hurriedly, for she felt 
 her heart beating faster than usual. ' And what did 
 you say ? ' 
 
 1 I told the gentleman that the ladies of the 
 house where he lay last night had sent them, 
 and hoped that he was doing well. I said the 
 young lady placed the handkerchief over the 
 flowers to shade them from the sun. He took the 
 handkerchief and looked at it all over, and replied, 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 67 
 
 smiling, " What is the name ? " I told him " Kiri- 
 manica." He said, " A pretty name. Tell the 
 ladies I thank them for their kindness. I will 
 come in person soon ; I am getting better." The 
 nurse came in and ordered me to leave and not to 
 disturb the gentleman further. I turned to go, 
 and found the cloth was not with the basket. The 
 flowers were put on the table by his bedside. The 
 gentleman's hand rested on the handkerchief, which 
 was lying on the bed. I whispered to the servant 
 to get it, and he withdrew it gently and gave it to 
 me. I left and came straight home.' 
 
 The girl seemed to restrain her impatience, and 
 to attempt an air of indifference in the presence of 
 Antone, but high up on her cheeks was a bright 
 flush making itself seen through the olive tint of 
 her skin, which the observant old man noticed. 
 She said carelessly, — 
 
 1 You did everything quite right, Antone. I 
 think I had better take the handkerchief. Where 
 is it ? ' 
 
 1 With the basket on the shelf, miss.' 
 
 She mounted upon a chair to reach the article, 
 and while her back was turned to the servant, she 
 said, — 
 
 'You did not ask the name of the gentleman, 
 Antone ? ' 
 
 'Yes, the gatekeeper told me — Mister Charles 
 Gray, magistrate at Matila.' 
 
 She started as she folded the handkerchief, and 
 retreated to her own room. From her infancy 
 Matila was, from their family associations, the one 
 place that she knew and loved best, and around 
 which so many of her memories centred. It was 
 strange, this coincidence. The handkerchief was 
 
68 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 put away in a box containing some other treasures, 
 to be a souvenir of one of the startling occurrences 
 in the girl's life. She said no more then either to 
 her mother or to Antone. 
 
 They had lunch, and she took her books and 
 went to the convent as usual, forcing herself to 
 pay her wonted attention to lessons, and making a 
 strong effort to disassociate her mind from the 
 vivid impression which had been made upon it. 
 In company with the other children, and joining 
 in their innocent sports, she partly succeeded this 
 afternoon. But at the evening meal the feeling of 
 interest she experienced for the young Englishman 
 was awakened again with fresh force, for the pro- 
 ceedings of the morning had to be rehearsed for 
 her father's benefit. Antone, while serving at the 
 table, was called to give his account again, in reply 
 to a series of questions. The incident of the hand- 
 kerchief he chose to forget, and he omitted to tell 
 that he had communicated the girl's name to the 
 gentleman. He knew that Panabokki would not 
 have liked it, reticent and exclusive as he was with 
 English people. The girl remained this time quite 
 silent during the narrative, but below the cloth her 
 hands were clasped tightly, to assist her to remain 
 apparently impassive. She did not quite mind 
 that Antone should tell the whole story, but yet 
 she preferred that the little details he left out 
 should not be discussed. They seemed to be her 
 very own property. 
 
 The husband expressed his satisfaction that the 
 attempt to be polite had been appreciated, and, 
 smiling at his wife and daughter, said they had 
 done well. The girl, lifting her eyes at the 
 moment and catching her father's glance, felt a 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 69 
 
 throb of pleasure, and, moving from her chair 
 went behind him and put her arms round his neck 
 — a caress fondly received, but which rather per- 
 plexed and surprised Panabokki, whose trained 
 perceptive faculties were constantly directed to 
 fathom the motives of other people. He laid his 
 hand upon the girl's two as they lay crossed on 
 his bosom, but said no more. 
 
 During the evening his wife referred to the 
 request made by Kirimanica to be allowed to 
 attend the service at the Catholic cathedral with 
 the other pupils of the school, under the escort of 
 the reverend directress. She said that as her 
 school-fellows were going, she considered the child 
 might go too. They had resolved already that she 
 was not to be kept in ignorance of what other 
 people than they did and thought. 
 
 Panabokki was enjoying his cigar, was at his 
 ease in an arm-chair, and did not feel inclined to 
 be too severe, but he remarked, — 
 
 ' I fear for the little daughter to be perverted 
 from our faith. I should grieve if what she chance 
 to hear in Christian churches make her otherwise 
 than she is — good and simple, like her mother. It 
 would seem as if the religion of Western people 
 produced a freedom of manners which, introduced 
 among us, would destroy what we love best in our 
 women — modesty and fidelity.' 
 
 He waited to see if the words would effect a 
 change in his wife's purpose. 
 
 1 1 have no wish to see the dear child different 
 from what she is. Oh, that she might always be 
 the innocent delight of our lives under the blessing 
 of the Lord Buddha ! But to deny her lawful 
 desires goes hard. Seeing that others in our neigh- 
 
7o A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 hours' families are to go by wish of the Mother 
 Superior, she may feel herself treated harshly. 
 She will say nothing, but she will lay the refusal 
 to heart, I fear.' 
 
 Kirimanica just then entered the room, and her 
 father, looking upon her lovely face, with its gentle 
 expression, felt something that forced him to yield 
 if it were to give her pleasure. So he told her she 
 had permission to attend the service at St Lucia's. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 It was that beautiful season in Colombo when 
 the frequent rain-showers impart a welcome cool- 
 ness to the air, and temper the heat which the 
 ground frequently gives up ; when the varied tints 
 of the luxuriant trees present the most striking 
 contrasts ; when the scarlet blossoms of the acacias 
 and the mauve of the tulip trees are beginning to 
 peep forth, and every garden is ablaze with red 
 shoe flowers and allamanders. The atmosphere is 
 so laden with moisture that the sun at rising and 
 setting lights the heavens with iridescent hues 
 such as flash from the opal, and the placid lake 
 and stormy sea reflecting the changing gleams, a 
 strange blend of colours of indescribable beauty 
 seems to be pictured forth in mid-air. On the 
 beach, the tempestuous waves raise a mist of spray, 
 which floats across the promenade and renders 
 dim the picturesque line of coast that sweeps for 
 some leagues away to the rocky promontory of 
 Mount Lavinia. 
 
 It is a season that brings down the foreign 
 residents of the island from far-away homes upon 
 the mountains, where tea and coffee flourish, or 
 from the interior verdant valleys, where palms and 
 cocoa shrubs bear their wealth of fruit. 
 
 A round of amusements in a few short weeks 
 serves to compensate for the isolation and cheer- 
 lcssness of life upon distant mountain-tops. 
 
 7i 
 
72 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 Helen had, upon her introduction to the new 
 life in the Tropics, with the sense of poetry in her 
 nature, thrown herself enthusiastically into her new 
 surroundings. Her own tastes were in sympathy 
 with them. Her love of nature's beauties found 
 endless sources of gratification. The music in 
 which she could best express her feelings seemed 
 here to have acquired fresh and more intense 
 meaning, and for a time had become a solace 
 to her, upon lonely days, that nothing else could 
 be. The gentle manners of the new people who 
 surrounded her, and the attractive beauty of the 
 brown and half-clothed children, won her affec- 
 tion, and although she could speak to them but 
 little in a foreign language, her kindly heart, 
 evinced in her looks and very ways had seemed 
 to establish a sympathy with them. Above all, 
 the tender love of her husband, although she saw 
 him so little, and it was demonstrated infrequently, 
 had rendered active the responsiveness that she 
 possessed to so great a degree. Time had, how- 
 ever, brought reflection, and she had often asked 
 herself, except to please him, at such times as 
 he was at leisure to be pleased, for what practical 
 use she lived in these luxurious surroundings ? 
 Everything was lovely, and sense was perpetually 
 gratified, but when all that was lavished upon her 
 had been enjoyed to the full, what was left ? She 
 often confessed — only insipidity. She had asked 
 to be employed, but her husband laughed at the 
 notion of her sharing his business details with 
 him. Could she help the people round her? 
 That was difficult. They received her approaches 
 with deference but with surprise, and her inability 
 to speak their language rendered communication 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 73 
 
 almost impossible. They feared, too, that she was 
 only prompted by curiosity in her endeavours to 
 penetrate the seclusion of their homes, and prob- 
 ably thought that the kindly interest displayed 
 would not last. She was discouraged, being too 
 sensitive to be content to be misunderstood. She 
 began to feel that, for lack of high purpose and 
 useful aim, as well as through the enervating 
 climate, she was beginning to be indolent and 
 incapable of effort. 
 
 Above all, there was one thing in which she 
 had been keenly disappointed — a hope, for the 
 fulfilment of which her whole nature throbbed, 
 and which unfulfilled had reacted upon her spirits. 
 Of that which would have pledged their mutual 
 love, and for which she had surrendered herself 
 so entirely, there was no sign. Others had prayed 
 that this longing might be accomplished and their 
 prayers had been heard. But in her case the 
 stimulus of an ardent faith was wanting, and 
 beyond the silent craving of the heart she framed 
 no petition. She felt herself to be no more to 
 the Divine Spirit of the universe than one of the 
 water lilies that bloomed for a brief day in the 
 basin upon the lawn. 
 
 Helen, in her loneliness, had been curious to 
 know who lived in the little villa adjoining the 
 grounds of Lotus Hall, and had often watched 
 Kirimanica tending her flowers in the garden. 
 She designedly strolled one day towards the 
 boundary in order to speak to the girl, an advance 
 which was at first very shyly received. In course 
 of time they had become acquainted, and Pana- 
 bokki's daughter occasionally, when Helen was 
 alone, had visited her through the hedge. She 
 
74 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 was delighted with the luxurious interior of the 
 Hall, and its many evidences of cultivated taste. 
 Best of all she liked to hear Helen sing. To the 
 latter the society of the child was a pleasant 
 novelty at first, and, later on, it afforded a decided 
 interest. She learnt to admire the sensitive and 
 gentle nature of Kirimanica, and many an other- 
 wise idle moment was devoted to learning, through 
 the girl, of the ways and habits of thought of her 
 race. She encouraged the latter to ask questions 
 on her part, and some of them were sufficiently 
 embarrassing. Why English ladies danced ? and 
 with men other than their husbands ? Helen had 
 never given a second thought to such matters. 
 She supposed that all women loved the poetry 
 of motion, and in the dance it found its highest 
 expression. Some husbands could not dance ; 
 others did not care for it; and then there were 
 lots of men who had not got wives of their own, 
 so they danced with the wives and daughters of 
 others. It was all right and proper, just a Western 
 custom that only very advanced people in the 
 East had yet adopted. Could she not, the girl 
 once asked, find all her happiness with her husband 
 in this lovely home, she who was so beautiful and 
 full of so many charms? The question had un- 
 intentionally so much point that Helen could not 
 answer it, or, at all events, did not choose to 
 explain, but coloured slightly and changed the 
 subject. After Kirimanica had gone she thought 
 of it again. Indeed, it was not for the first time. 
 There must have been some reason, perhaps more 
 than one, for the slight suspicion of coolness which 
 had changed the colour of their lives. But Helen 
 could not at that time define it. She would at 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 75 
 
 times go to the glass and scrutinise her image, 
 fearful that the beauty which had so attracted 
 George Agnew at Hampstead was paling in the 
 tropical heat. Then she scouted the idea, for 
 others, especially Harold Norton, did not conceal 
 their admiration for it. And she still retained 
 the velvet texture of skin and rounded contour 
 of bust and limbs that added so much to her 
 natural grace. Occasionally she would think that 
 intellectually she was a poor companion for her 
 husband ; he, a man of wide attainments, and 
 she of so little cultivation, save in music and in the 
 scraps of other arts she had acquired by desultory 
 reading and from the society that met at Heath 
 Lodge. Perhaps it was that she was not demon- 
 strative enough to one who, cold in his own 
 nature, expected spontaneity in others. So she 
 would double her caresses and strive to sit upon 
 his knee, yet feeling often that a full response was 
 not forthcoming. The slight chill she experienced 
 caused her to throw herself more energetically than 
 before into the frivolities of the social circle in 
 which they lived, and to find relief in mere amuse- 
 ment. At times the fervour of her husband's first 
 love seemed to return, and she found it ineffably 
 sweet to be clasped to his breast, and to feel his 
 kisses upon her eyes, her brow, and her lips. The 
 man's disposition was always a matter of surprise 
 to her, for she knew nothing of the ebb and flow 
 of passion. 
 
 It was certainly a pleasure to have Harold 
 Norton to turn to in her hours of ennui. He 
 was always devoted to her service. Sometimes, 
 when at Lotus Hall, she fancied that her husband 
 disliked Norton, and that his presence was un- 
 
76 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 welcome. Yet again, Agnew was often most 
 cordial to his guest, and had evidently cast off 
 suspicion of mistrust. If he felt it, he was too 
 proud to show it. 
 
 Norton and Helen were much alone together. 
 She had few lady friends. Their tea-parties did 
 not interest her, and the current gossip of the 
 town palled upon her, coloured and exaggerated 
 as it often was. The intimacy which had become 
 so marked had not escaped observation by some 
 who had never known temptation, and who really 
 rather envied Mrs Agnew her opportunities. 
 Much to his annoyance, her husband one day 
 heard it referred to in conversation by some busi- 
 ness men in an office in the Fort. He was cold 
 to her in consequence, but would not vouchsafe 
 to interrogate or to admonish her. She might 
 be careless and unthinking, but he had no doubt 
 of the implicit devotion of the girl he had stooped 
 to choose. He saw it in her look of admiration 
 for him, and in the readiness with which she 
 hastened to his side and pressed her cheek to his 
 when she thought her presence would be accept- 
 able. Agnew himself might, if he had possessed 
 the leisure, have done much to promote the 
 education of his young wife, which was commenc- 
 ing only when they married. But wearied as 
 he was from the exacting nature of his business, 
 after his long day in office, he found little inclin- 
 ation to make the effort. He made the common 
 mistake of supposing that she would continue it 
 upon her own initiative, and without the frequent 
 praise and encouragement women so much 
 need. She herself saw numbers who did no 
 better than she did, and with whom amusement 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 77 
 
 appeared to be the object of life. The earnest 
 purpose which had been the ruling feature of 
 the lives of the men and women who lived in 
 their social circle in London seemed here to be 
 absent. 
 
 Dancing was delightful, and in Colombo, at this 
 time, there was plenty of it. The two ex- 
 ceptionally good balls of the season — that of the 
 Governor, and at the Club — commanded every- 
 one's presence. Excellent floors, lavish enter- 
 tainment, and the numerous contrivances for 
 tete-a-tctcs promoted the ' flow of soul ' which 
 in prosaic daily life is mostly wanting. Agnew 
 liked his wife to go to these things. She was 
 so much admired in her transcendent beauty, that 
 it gratified him to see it, and she seemed always 
 to enjoy herself. Sometimes he would dutifully 
 remain to the end. Occasionally she returned 
 alone, or perhaps in company with another lady. 
 
 The evening of the Turf Club Ball was a 
 charming one. A strong wind blew and caused 
 the foamy waves to break fiercely upon the 
 beach, while a bright moon silvered their curling 
 crests. Women, in their new and handsome 
 dresses, looked their brightest and best ; the jaded 
 looks of early morn having disappeared with 
 the excitement of the dance and a soupqon of 
 champagne. Cards had been rapidly filled, and 
 when in the crowd, an hour or two after their 
 arrival, her husband found Helen, he discovered 
 that she was likely to remain until the early hours. 
 He said, — 
 
 1 Enjoy yourself, my dear child ; but I am 
 afraid I must be off. I shall be fit for nothing 
 next day if I sit up longer. Here is Mrs Airlie, 
 
78 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 who goes your way, who will, I am sure, drive home 
 with you.' 
 
 It was a cloud upon the girl's enjoyment to 
 be thus left alone and unprotected, and she said 
 in a moment, — 
 
 'George, dear, we will make a bargain. If you 
 will wait for me, I will be ready to go at twelve 
 o'clock. There, will that do ? ' 
 
 ' No. I insist upon your keeping all your 
 engagements.' 
 
 Mrs Airlie, who was standing near at hand, 
 turned, and remarked at the same moment, — 
 
 1 Oh, yes ; we are both alone, and I will see Mrs 
 Agnew to her door with pleasure.' 
 
 She was a lively little brunette, who was left 
 much to her own devices, having made herself 
 largely independent of her husband, and con- 
 siderably of public opinion. She had a particular 
 friend herself, and conceived a fellow-feeling for 
 Helen in regard to the attachment of Harold 
 Norton, which she thought she had detected. She 
 believed that everybody had a special friend, and it 
 was only fear of remark that made some women 
 disinclined to admit the fact. 
 
 ' I am sorry,' she said, ' that we have had, Mrs 
 Agnew, so few opportunities of meeting one 
 another. I should like to know more of you. I 
 think, in our tastes, we might find some agree- 
 ment.' 
 
 She smiled faintly, not certain whether her 
 advances would be well received, or whether, as 
 she often experienced, they would be coldly re- 
 pulsed. Helen was, however, a stranger to the 
 petty feeling of moral superiority to others that 
 seems often to exist, and replied frankly, — 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 79 
 
 ' I hope you will come and see me — us, I should 
 say — whenever you are inclined. I shall be glad, 
 for I am often lonely.' 
 
 1 I hear you are musical, Mrs Agnew, and paint, 
 so that we shall have common interests. There 
 are few in whose lives Art has any place. Here 
 is Mr Gray, let me introduce him. He has lately 
 had a serious accident, but is recovering, and 
 allowed out for an hour this evening.' 
 
 Gray bowed to Mrs Agnew, and received a 
 kind look of sympathy. She inquired about the 
 accident, and was interested in learning that it 
 had happened near Lotus Hall, and how the 
 Panabokki family had rendered assistance. 
 
 1 You must have seen my little friend then, 
 Mr Gray,' said Helen ; ' a nice child, who comes 
 to see me sometimes from next door.' 
 
 I I did, indeed,' the young man replied. ' She 
 is charming in appearance, but more than that 
 I do not know. If you like her, that alone is a 
 recommendation. I must go and see them to 
 express my thanks. Perhaps you can help me 
 in this matter. The Singhalese are rather ex- 
 clusive to strangers.' 
 
 I I am afraid I cannot help you much, as I am 
 unacquainted with the girl's parents. You must 
 call yourself. I think the girl is rather shy about 
 seeing strangers, especially men, but you might 
 by chance see her in my house on a Saturday, 
 if you were to come in before four o'clock.' 
 
 1 Very well,' Gray said, c we will leave it to 
 chance, but I will of course pay my visit to the 
 family.' 
 
 Norton came up and claimed Mrs Agnew for 
 a dance, which ended the conversation. They 
 
So A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 were seated, afterwards, in one of the alcoves, 
 gracefully constructed of palms and ferns, and 
 dimly lighted by glow lamps for the delectation 
 of those inclined to be tender. In the next one 
 were Mrs Airlie and her partner. Helen did not 
 quite like the familiarities that the lady permitted. 
 She noticed that her fiiend placed his hand upon 
 her arm and kept it there, unrepulsed, and that 
 he was allowed to arrange Mrs Airlie's hair where 
 it had become loosened. Norton remarked, — 
 
 ' I see you are noticing Mrs Airlie. She is a 
 regular little flirt, but does no harm. She can 
 take excellent care of herself. Her husband 
 leaves her too much to her own devices. Women 
 here say the most cutting things about her, which 
 no men, however, endorse. If she is left alone to 
 do as she likes, her husband must thank himself 
 for the consequences.' 
 
 ' Even then,' Mr Norton, ( I think self-respect 
 ought to be the rule. To lend colour to annoying 
 rumour is often a woman's fault. The fact of 
 having a husband's confidence, and to have his 
 name to guard, ought to make one careful.' 
 
 ' It seems to me to be absurd that, out of defer- 
 ence to mere conventionality, one is to have no 
 pleasant friendships with women. I think you 
 all defer a great deal too much to what is called 
 " public opinion " — generally the opinion of a few 
 who are jealous in these matters of those who 
 are favourites.' 
 
 1 Well,' said Helen, laughing, ' I fear you will 
 not find many who care to brave it. In the first 
 place, things are made unpleasant for a woman 
 who is in Coventry. She is frowned down, or 
 looked at superciliously, in public places. You 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 81 
 
 forget also that husbands do not always relish 
 the remarks that are bandied about in regard to 
 wives, and that there are apt to be discussions in 
 the privacy of the home which most of us would 
 rather avoid.' 
 
 ' I am sure, Mrs Agnew r , you can be discreet 
 and yet hold your intimate friends. Your tact 
 enables you to keep everything concealed which 
 you wish to do.' 
 
 ' Indeed, I have nothing to conceal.' 
 
 ' Surely your feeling for a particular friend, the 
 confidences he gives you, and the privileges you 
 allow him, are not to be matters for public 
 scrutiny, and — I repeat the word — are, as a rule, 
 " concealed " ? ' 
 
 She hesitated a moment, and replied, — 
 
 ' Perhaps, yes, there are some things one does 
 not outwardly betray,' but she avoided meeting 
 his eyes, which had been turned upon her with 
 evident meaning. She sometimes felt angry with 
 herself that Harold Norton had so large a share 
 of her thoughts ; but yet he was always doing 
 little services for her, so that when he claimed 
 her time and company she would seem churlish 
 to refuse him. Helen rose, smiling gently upon 
 her partner, and said, — 
 
 1 It is very late, and some of the company arc 
 getting boisterous. I think I should like to go, if 
 you can find Mrs Airlie.' 
 
 ' I had hoped to have had another dance with 
 you, Mrs Agnew ; just one — a pleasure to me 
 which I cannot express.' 
 
 1 Really, you are too extravagant. No, I do 
 not care to stay later ; it is " form " to go before 
 the place becomes noisy.' 
 
 F 
 
82 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 On their way to the staircase they met with 
 the lady they were seeking. She remarked, — 
 
 4 1 am ready for you. I was in waiting to inter- 
 cept you. Would you mind my friend coming 
 with us in the carriage ? ' indicating the gentleman 
 whom Helen had observed in the alcove ; ' he lives 
 in our direction.' 
 
 Helen could not, as he had overheard the 
 inquiry, dissent without appearing discourteous, 
 so of necessity acquiesced. Before they drove 
 away a sketching party had been arranged, at 
 Mrs Airlie's instance, to go down the coast at 
 an early date, the two gentlemen with whom 
 they had last been speaking to accompany them. 
 It would be such fun, and there would be a nice 
 quartette. 
 
 As Helen alighted at Lotus Hall, and Mrs 
 Airlie drove off in the barouche with her friend, 
 she could not help feeling that she had rather 
 been made use of by the little brunette, and was 
 herself unguardedly aiding in something her own 
 husband would not like. 
 
 An old servant was faithfully awaiting her 
 arrival at the front door, and closed it as she 
 passed in. The master had gone to rest, she 
 learned, and she found his room closed, from 
 which she gathered that he did not want to be 
 disturbed. She passed to her own dressing- 
 chamber, adjoining the fernery at the south end, 
 where her Singhalese waiting-maid, after turning 
 up the lights, stood silent like a statue, ready to 
 assist in disrobing her mistress. She spoke kindly 
 to the girl during the short toilette, and when her 
 hair had been brushed and arranged for the night, 
 dismissed her, bidding her sleep well and long. 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON S3 
 
 Helen herself, late as it was, did not feel like going 
 to rest. The reaction from the excitement of the 
 ball had made her dispirited. Generally, when 
 her husband's return home had preceded hers, he 
 had either sat up to receive her, or managed to 
 awake to give her a welcome. She missed that 
 to-night. She drew up the blind, and, seating 
 herself at the window, looked out upon the silent 
 night. A toad was hoarsely croaking in the 
 fernery, and in the distance a jackal raised a 
 dismal howl. The wind soughed through the 
 funereal foliage of the casuarinas that bordered 
 the road by the sea, and the eternal thunder of 
 the waves rung out upon the beach. It was an 
 hour for meditation, a time when physical vitality 
 ebbs low, and, with Helen, there seemed to be, 
 in these particular features of the night, some- 
 thing of a foreboding, some nameless dread that 
 agitated her. The thought which was so often 
 present was of the waning of her husband's love. 
 If she were to judge by the absence now of the 
 frequent caresses she enjoyed as a bride, and of 
 that welcome smile that used to light her husband's 
 face at her approach, then she was obliged to con- 
 fess that, tormenting as it was, the horrible sus- 
 picion was suggested by facts. If the horizon of 
 her married life had darkened thus soon, what of 
 the future when the sky would be always over- 
 cast, when sympathy between them might fade 
 entirely away? What of that other who she 
 knew loved her ? The tears welled up and rolled 
 slowly down her cheeks. She leaned upon the 
 window-sill, and sat for some minutes with her 
 handkerchief to her eyes. The light in her room, 
 to anyone outside the house, threw her figure into 
 
84 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 relief. She was almost frightened, certainly 
 startled, by a voice close at hand, in soft tones, 
 saying — 
 
 1 Lady ! ' 
 
 Looking in the direction from which it pro- 
 ceeded, she saw a graceful form robed in white 
 muslin. It was Kirimanica. She had risen at 
 night, disturbed by the bright moonbeams that 
 found their way into her chamber, and while 
 looking through the window had observed Helen's 
 attitude of grief. Her simple heart was deeply 
 touched, and, hesitating for a moment, fearing 
 her parents' displeasure, and the possibility of 
 reptiles in the grass, had tripped across, plucking, 
 as she crossed her garden, a lily, which she placed 
 in front of Helen as she spoke. 
 
 The girl's face was turned so that the lamp-light 
 fell upon it. The expression of the dark eyes 
 slightly moist with tears of sympathy, of the 
 parted lips, and the significance of the little offer- 
 ing, were irresistible, and Helen, dropping her hand- 
 kerchief, took her little friend's face in her two 
 hands, stooped over the window-sill, and kissed her 
 warmly several times on cheeks and lips. It was 
 an unusual greeting to the Singhalese maiden, but 
 her heart throbbed in response, and she seized 
 Helen's hand in her own two, and, carrying it to 
 her lips, pressed it long. 
 
 ' Sweet soul,' said Helen, ' you should not be out 
 at this time. You may be in danger.' 
 
 ' That is nothing, lady ; your kindness is always 
 treasured in my heart, and to see you, as I thought, 
 in grief, and alone, pains me in a way I have never 
 felt. It is the night that often brings sadness, and 
 the morning sun drives away the evil spirits who 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 85 
 
 would make us doubt. See the lilies bloom un- 
 troubled even in these dark, silent hours. It 
 must be a good spirit who takes care of the 
 innocent flowers. May it protect you, kind lady. 
 I must go. Good-night.' 
 
 The girl bent and kissed again the fair hand, 
 with skin like satin, and Helen murmured, — 
 
 'Good-night, dear, dear child. May Heaven 
 bless you ! ' She watched the slender white figure 
 stealing swiftly across the lawn and through the 
 gap in the hedge through which she had come, 
 until out of sight, when she drew down her own 
 blind, and threw herself wearily upon a couch, with 
 the lily fastened in her bosom. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 It was a bright Sunday morning when the reverend 
 directress of Santa Maria Convent set out with the 
 school children to the service at St Lucia's. They 
 were so many in number that several bullock 
 coaches were required to transport them, and some 
 of the convent sisters accompanied the party as 
 escort. It was quite an event for most of them, 
 for except to occasional parties at friends' houses, 
 and on such festivals as Buddha's birthday, the 
 children did not go far from their own homes. So 
 they were all in great spirits, which had to be 
 subdued by the nuns, who were alive to the 
 solemnity of the occasion. Kirimanica, being one 
 of the elder pupils, was, with one other, permitted 
 in the open phaeton with the directress. Her 
 companion chatted away in a girlish strain to 
 Kirimanica about every little incident of the 
 route through the varied scenes which Colombo 
 furnishes, but the childhood of the latter had lately 
 seemed to leave her — her life had entered upon 
 a new phase, and nothing in her now seemed to 
 respond to the effusiveness characteristic of the 
 schoolgirl. So she said little during the drive, 
 but was in thought anticipating much. 
 
 She had longed to have the opportunity that 
 presented itself this day of learning what kind of 
 religious faith it was which the English professed, 
 which allowed so much individual freedom, even 
 
 86 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 87 
 
 surprising latitude, she had often thought, and 
 yet had helped to build up the British nation, 
 and had impressed itself upon its institutions. If 
 the Christian faith had, as she supposed it had, 
 given to Mrs Agnew her grace of manner and her 
 refined susceptibilities, and to Mr Charles Gray his 
 frank and manly ways, his brave temper of mind, 
 and his courteousness, there must be something 
 wonderful in it. Yet, again, it was a subject upon 
 which Mrs Agnew had never touched in their 
 conversations, and it was observed that she never 
 went to church. If it were so precious a heritage, 
 how strange that it was not more openly mani- 
 fested — a thing one would have supposed to be 
 cherished above all others, and to bear upon every- 
 body's life. Here was a puzzle which could not at 
 present be unravelled. 
 
 When they all alighted and entered the spacious 
 cathedral the childish anticipations of most of the 
 party turned to mute astonishment. The fine 
 aisles and transepts crowded with worshippers, the 
 gorgeous altar decked with flowers, golden candle- 
 sticks and silk brocade, with the mystic Cross in 
 the centre, the coloured windows and decorated 
 side chapels, appealed at once to those of a race 
 by which sensuousness in ceremonial has always 
 been cultivated. 
 
 With the rest of the assembly they all rose as 
 the priests and choristers passed in procession round 
 the church, the harmony of voices and the mighty 
 organ striking chords in hearts ready tuned for 
 such melody but never yet so touched. 
 
 Kirimanica felt her nature thrilled in a way she 
 had never before experienced. Something within 
 responded to these heaven-sent strains. She could 
 
38 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 not tell what, only she seemed to want to cry : 
 and yet it was not from feeling unhappy. A silent 
 thirst appeared to be suddenly assuaged, or the cur- 
 tain had been lifted which had to her until then 
 shut out the divine light from an unrevealed world. 
 To such music as this she thought the spheres 
 of heaven must roll through space, and in response 
 to which the palms must wave their glistening 
 fronds, and the flowers she loved so much rear 
 their tender petals. 
 
 To her disappointment the service was in a 
 language she knew not, but the music and the 
 tones of the worshippers helped her to understand 
 the nature of their devotions. Of Jesus she had 
 often heard. He had given his life to teach man- 
 kind. He had left all to offer himself a sacrifice. 
 So had the Lord Buddha. She could kneel to 
 either. She could pray like the rest for salvation. 
 Carried away by the earnestness of the crowd she 
 united with them, if not in speech, in soul, in the 
 effort to approach the throne of grace, to put 
 themselves in communion with the spirit of life 
 and light. Every now and then hysteric sobs 
 would rise and with difficulty were suppressed. 
 Something seemed to choke her, and tears, which 
 she would fain have withheld, she was forced to 
 wipe away. 
 
 The directress noticed her distressed condition 
 and kindly pressed her hand, but the show of sym- 
 pathy only brought fresh tears to the girl's eyes. 
 She clenched her hands, striving to be calm, when 
 the exquisite music again thrilled through every 
 fibre and overpowered her attempts at restraint. 
 For some minutes she buried her eyes in her 
 handkerchief as they all knelt in prayer, and the 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 89 
 
 recollection of that night at Lotus Hall flashed 
 through her mind. One was then in grief and 
 shed tears because all was dark ; those were tears 
 of sorrow. Her own now came she knew not 
 why, but they seemed to be tears of joy for the 
 uprising of a great light. 
 
 This day, in the cathedral, the Vicar Apostolic 
 preached to children, and, Kirimanica was de- 
 lighted to find, in English, and in language of 
 which they could easily grasp the sense. The 
 sermon was of ' Jesus, the Son of God,' the fount 
 of true sympathy with mankind and the essence of 
 true self-sacrifice by which He was to reunite a 
 degenerate race with the Almighty Creator. The 
 sinless life of the Son of Man ; His compassion for 
 human suffering, His tenderness for the young ; His 
 own complete self-forgetfulness ; that wonderful 
 and mystic death upon the cross for the redemp- 
 tion of mankind ; the resurrection and ascen- 
 sion ; the growth of His Church on earth ; and the 
 missions of the Apostles — all these facts came to 
 many of the little hearers in the light of new 
 revelation. The Lord Buddha had given up a 
 kingdom ; had led the life of a mendicant ; had 
 taught them to be kind to all ; to speak the truth ; 
 to wish for nothing for self; to inflict no pain ; to 
 separate themselves from human passion ; and, for 
 a final reward, they would become insensible to 
 human feelings and be translated to a region of 
 unbroken repose dissociated from all former rela- 
 tionships. 
 
 But the religion of Jesus Christ was one in 
 which their existing associations were spiritualised. 
 Those whom they loved here they were to love 
 still better, but in a higher and a better sense ; and 
 
90 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 their happiness in the new heavens, to which he 
 had procured for them entrance, was to consist in 
 the communion with the souls of the loved ones 
 who had gone before through the Valley of the 
 Shadow of Death. Their existing pursuits and 
 social relations were sanctioned by Him when 
 entered upon in the spirit He taught. If they saw 
 in Jesus the highest expression of the principle of 
 self-sacrifice which existed throughout nature, the 
 Redeemer who had made good all their de- 
 ficiencies, and believed in His Divine Mission, then 
 through Him they would upon earth already com- 
 mence that eternal life for which even the most infirm 
 and ignorant had an innate longing. More than 
 this, Jesus lives, and the love for humanity which 
 He displayed upon earth dies not. He listens to 
 the prayers of the most humble, and when ' other 
 helpers fail ' and the comfortless here have none to 
 turn to it is in Him that they find rest for their 
 souls. 
 
 Jesus Christ had brought men near to God, our 
 Heavenly Father, and into communion with Him. 
 The preacher knew of no other prophet or religious 
 teacher who had effected this. Moral injunctions 
 there had been, and excellent they were in their 
 tendency ; but of the sense of reconciliation and of 
 the certainty of forgiveness for the repentant he 
 knew not, save in the faith of Christ. He ex- 
 horted the little ones of the Church in that large 
 assembly to preserve throughout life that childlike 
 faith with which they had been endowed, and 
 those who knew not the truth to pray God to instil 
 it in their hearts and to determine at all hazards to 
 grasp it for ever when found. 
 
 Kirimanica had drunk in every word of the dis- 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 91 
 
 course, spoken with the emphasis which betokens 
 the sincere belief of the speaker in his own senti- 
 ments. She had never, although she was not a 
 stranger to the Bible, heard such words before nor 
 sat in company with a thousand others to listen to 
 so eloquent a Christian teacher. She seemed to 
 have something more tangible than she had ever 
 realised to live and to work for. What she 
 had tried to practise according to the light of 
 Buddhism would not, she thought, have been un- 
 acceptable to Christ, but that day she felt that it 
 had not been of her own ability. The power of 
 Christ had, it would seem, been manifested 
 through the medium of another faith, in which it 
 had been in a sense obscured. A thick mist 
 appeared suddenly to have been lifted. The will 
 of God had been manifested and human action 
 was in all respects to be - subordinated to 
 that. Weakness in resolve was not now to 
 be left unaided, for ' in Christ all are made 
 alive.' 
 
 These were the ideas that passed through the 
 girl's mind, not immediately in logical sequence, 
 nor exactly formulated, but by degrees, to furnish 
 her reasons for her new faith. 
 
 The directress scanned her closely as they drove 
 home, and gathered satisfaction in thinking that 
 for one, at least, the divine service of that morning 
 had not been without fruit. 
 
 The noonday sun was lighting all the landscape 
 and the restless billows with a wealth of radiance, 
 which seemed to Kirimanica typical of the eternal 
 glory in Christ which that morning had been de- 
 picted. She could look back in subsequent years 
 to this day as the one upon which she had entered 
 
92 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 upon a rest which nothing could disturb, where 
 her loves had become hallowed, her sympathies 
 widened, and her aspect of life changed. 
 
 Returning by the sea front, they passed other 
 carriages coming from the Fort Church. Two 
 gentlemen were in one. He who was on her side 
 evidently recognised her. It was Gray, who bowed 
 and lifted his hat, while he coloured, probably 
 feeling the strangeness of the rencontre, and sensible 
 of the chaff to which he would be subject from 
 those who were ignorant of the reason of his ac- 
 quaintance with one of a group of Singhalese 
 schoolgirls in charge of nuns. That- would not, 
 however, allow him to be discourteous or un- 
 grateful. 
 
 Kirimanica had never been thus noticed, but 
 bowed slightly and smiled as she had seen English 
 ladies do, much to the surprise, and a little to the 
 indignation, of the reverend directress, who im- 
 mediately required explanation. That was given 
 briefly in relation to the events of the memorable 
 evening, and the old lady was well satisfied, and 
 thought it was nice of the gentleman to have re- 
 membered the girl. As she parted with the pupils 
 at the convent, she said, — 
 
 'Now, children, perhaps we may never attend 
 another service at the cathedral together. What 
 you have learnt to-day, strive to remember, but 
 conceal nothing from your parents. Let their 
 wishes be your law. But if they will let you 
 learn more of the Holy Jesus, come to me to be 
 taught. Go home, now, and may He be your 
 guide. Heaven bless you ! ' 
 
 Kirimanica was obliged, at the mid-day meal, to 
 give a full account of the service, which she did 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 93 
 
 with so much fervour as to fairly startle her father 
 and mother. The former had rational objections 
 to Christianity, the truth of which he always argued 
 ought to survive the application of scientific tests, 
 just like any other hypothesis put forward for public 
 acceptance. The incarnation, the immaculate con- 
 ception, and the resurrection, were articles of faith 
 which he could not bring himself to believe, 
 although, if he had taken pains to inquire, he 
 would have found in the natural world unexplained 
 phenomena, implying the operation of yet un- 
 known laws, which would have made him hesitate 
 to reject analogous facts connected with revealed 
 religion. But he had become habituated to believe 
 only what could be proved, so that even the miracles 
 connected with Buddhism be rejected. He had 
 been brought up in this faith, however, and its 
 moral precepts recommended it to him as good, so 
 he held to it. His wife was a simple person who 
 was content with the religion in which her an- 
 cestors had lived and died, although it had never 
 been the comfort to her she could wish, especially, 
 she remembered, when the baby boy she loved so 
 much had faded away in her arms, and the little 
 soul had gone whither she knew not. To-day, 
 then, after a lengthy recapitulation of the service, 
 and of the sermon of the Vicar Apostolic, the girl 
 did not receive much sympathy, and her father 
 even looked cross. She retired, when she could, to 
 her room, to think it all over again. It was now a 
 trouble to her that her parents could not see as she 
 did. She was prompted to ask in prayer that this 
 might be so. Some time or other, for Christ's 
 sake, that prayer would be answered. So she had 
 been told that morning. This thought gave more 
 
94 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 elasticity to her feelings. She felt less dis- 
 appointed. 
 
 A casket stood on a little table at which she was 
 wont to sit at her lessons. She opened it, and 
 took out the handkerchief which had covered the 
 flowers that went to the hospital. It had a new 
 interest for her. The faith of which she had learnt 
 so much to-day was his too. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 The race week was past, and society in Colombo, 
 recovering from the lassitude and indigestion 
 attendant upon the surfeit of luxuries and late 
 hours, was again at liberty to resume its wonted 
 ways. On a Saturday afternoon Kirimanica had 
 been asked to come over and sit with Mrs Agnew 
 in her boudoir. The latter was painting a portrait 
 of the girl to send to Heath Lodge as a souvenir of 
 Ceylon. Caselli would value it, Helen knew, both 
 for the sake of his daughter and for the interest he 
 took in her new life. Dear father ! How she 
 longed to see him, to comfort him in his loneliness 
 — the one companion of her past life that she sorely 
 missed. Here, apart from her husband, who was 
 so abstracted and unable to afford her anything 
 but scant time, she had no one in whom she felt 
 she could confide. How different life would be 
 were the one true friend at hand. She pictured 
 him often alone and bereft of his child's society, 
 growing perhaps worn and perceptibly ageing, 
 sitting under the cedars, or walking over the heath, 
 uncheered by her presence. He never referred in 
 his letters to this aspect of his life, but always 
 seemed to strive to contribute to her happiness, and 
 to look hopefully forward to their early meeting. 
 He had promised himself to visit them, but up to 
 now his brush had been so busy as to prevent it. 
 So she wrote often, and never alluded to the clouds 
 
 95 
 
96 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 that had gathered over the sky of her married life, 
 but set herself to brighten that of her loved parent 
 as much as she could. In this picture she took a 
 special delight, both from the fact that it would 
 please him and in that the subject was one of 
 Singhala's best and most charming maids. 
 
 The child was taken sitting under palms, bent 
 over some needlework, and attired in a bodice of 
 embroidered white silk, exposing her well-formed 
 neck and shoulders, and part of her slightly-swell- 
 ing bosom ; a red silk wrapper clothed her from 
 waist downwards, and from underneath, her little 
 feet, always bare, in the primitive fashion of the 
 country, peeped forth. The black hair was 
 smoothed back, knotted behind, and secured 
 with a jewelled pin ; a few white flowers were 
 wreathed around it, and on each cheek, in front of 
 the ear, a whisp of hair was turned up, and lay flat 
 upon the skin in a little curl, giving a certain 
 piquancy to the thoughtful face. The lips, 
 slightly parted, revealed her even and pearly 
 teeth. 
 
 She had sat some dozen times to Helen, and the 
 picture was approaching completion. The parents 
 had been made cognisant of what was being done, 
 and had been reluctant to permit it ; but on re- 
 ceiving Mrs Agnew's promise that the portrait 
 would not be exhibited in Colombo, they yielded 
 consent. It was to be sent over for their inspec- 
 tion when finished. 
 
 It had been a pleasure to Helen to have the 
 girl's company. Her heart had been won by 
 Kirimanica on the night of the ball, when the 
 latter had come to comfort her in her sorrow. 
 The freshness and innocence of the girl's ideas 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 97 
 
 and the naivete of her conversation brought a 
 charm to their society which the commonplace of 
 Colombo life ever wanted. To-day, the talk was 
 largely of the memorable service at the cathedral 
 which had so impressed the girl and had marked 
 a new epoch in her life. She was disappointed to 
 find that Helen lacked the enthusiasm which she 
 had expected in one brought up in a land where 
 all were, nominally at least, of the Christian faith. 
 She asked, — 
 
 ' Do you not believe this truth which they 
 preach in your churches ? ' 
 
 ' I know what it is, and I think the creed is a 
 lovely one ; but I do not feel its force. Perhaps 
 it is my bringing up. Perhaps I see that so few 
 who profess to worship practise what they pretend 
 to accept. I seem to have grown to think that all 
 nature, including that of ourselves, moves onward 
 in compliance with irresistible forces, which there 
 is no earthly will to combat ; that we atoms are 
 floating down a great stream which bears us, 
 whether we would or no, to the great ocean of 
 eternity, to be shaped, it may be, in new forms, 
 but of which we know nothing.' 
 
 ' And where is comfort in time of sorrow ? 
 Where help in weakness ? Where forgiveness for 
 our sins ? It seems to me, now that I have learnt 
 to pray, I rise up with a great strength, and when 
 I would do wrong there is a sign to point to me 
 the way of right. Jesus lives, they say, but if that 
 be not true my new hopes are but naught. Oh, 
 lady, cannot you help a poor, ignorant girl, who 
 knows nothing of your great world, nor even what 
 life awaits her in her little sphere ? ' 
 
 She had dropped her work upon her lap, and 
 G 
 
9 8 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 Helen could see, as she looked up plaintively, tears 
 standing in her expressive eyes. 
 
 ' You,' Kirimanica continued, ' who can teach 
 me so much, who know everything, in mercy help 
 me, and tell me is it but a fable which has wrung 
 my heart and put a new spirit into my whole 
 being ? I can speak to you. I love you. I adore 
 your beauty and your good heart. It cannot be 
 that you, of all, should be the one to snatch 
 from me the priceless jewel I thought to pos- 
 sess.' 
 
 The unhappy child buried her face in her hand- 
 kerchief and sobbed. 
 
 Helen, deeply moved, turned to the window to 
 hide her own emotion. That mysterious influence 
 which was to be exercised by the one over the 
 other in human society, the right and good one 
 which alone could bind its varied constituents in 
 healthy form — was it in her case entirely lack- 
 ing ? If she possessed it, how had it been used ? 
 She felt humiliated, pained, and grieved for the 
 misery of her little companion. She laid down 
 brushes and palette, and going up to Kirimanica, 
 rested her fair hand upon her raven hair and 
 said, — 
 
 ' Dear child, for you are no more, I cannot teach 
 you in this.' She nearly added, ' You shall teach 
 me,' but pride restrained her. ' It is possible that 
 you have found the truth. Hold to it. Some 
 of us have not. Not yet. Be happy that you 
 have its comfort. When I know more we will talk 
 together again. I am sorry that I fail you most 
 when really wanted. You comforted me one 
 night, and I would fain make you happy in your 
 belief. Keep it safe as you would a jewel, and you 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 99 
 
 shall come often to tell me all you think and do. 
 Be cheered.' 
 
 Helen helped to dry the tears that still wetted 
 the long lashes, and restored the girl to something 
 like composure. She also skilfully changed the 
 subject. 
 
 ' I want more light here, too,' she observed, 
 going to the further window to raise the blind to 
 permit the brilliant colouring of her subject to 
 be rendered more vivid. She was charming. The 
 recent train of thought and consequent emotion 
 had invested her countenance and pose with a 
 pensiveness that accentuated her peculiar beauty 
 with an element with which, in the East, it seems 
 to find its highest expression. While she wore it, 
 Helen managed, with a few skilful touches, to fix 
 it upon the canvas. 
 
 A servant at this moment announced that a 
 gentleman had called, and presented his card upon 
 a salver. It bore the inscription, — 
 
 Mr Charles Gray, 
 
 Ceylon Civil Service. 
 
 Helen remembered her words to him at the 
 Turf Club Ball. It was not the best occasion on 
 which to display her little companion, but she 
 must make the best of it. 
 
 ' Kirimanica, a gentleman has come. I must 
 stop painting. Put on your happy smile, because 
 I want you to-day to come into the drawing- 
 room.' 
 
 The girl looked distressed, and replied, — 
 
 ' I cannot. My parents do not wish me to meet 
 strange gentlemen, and to-day I do not feel I can 
 
ioo A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 be with you longer. My heart is sad and words 
 fail me. Let me, if you please, dear lady, with- 
 draw.' 
 
 ' It will gratify me if you will come, even for a 
 few minutes. The gentleman is not a stranger. 
 It is Mr Gray.' 
 
 Kirimanica started, almost quivered, and Mrs 
 Agnew, looking at her in surprise and with intense 
 curiosity, saw the unwonted red flush showing 
 through her tawny skin. She took the girl's hand 
 and drew her, somewhat hesitating, through the 
 hall to the door of the drawing-room. Still lead- 
 ing her, she bowed as she entered, and smiling 
 gaily, said, — 
 
 1 Good afternoon, Mr Gray. You have come 
 just in time to find an old friend. The young lady 
 was difficult to persuade to see you, but here she is 
 to speak for herself.' 
 
 Kirimanica's embarrassment was almost painful, 
 but Gray, observing it, pretended to be blind to it. 
 He shook hands with her after Mrs Agnew, and 
 said, — 
 
 ' I am pleased, very, to meet you once more. I 
 was afraid it would not be, and that I should not 
 be able to show you that I had not forgotten your 
 kind care and help. You see I have not, and, I 
 hope, never shall. I called but a few days ago to 
 express my thanks, but saw nobody, and I under- 
 stand that you do not receive English visitors. 
 But now I am happy that I am not treated as 
 quite a stranger.' 
 
 Her eyes, until then cast down, were raised at 
 this pause to his ; and he looked so brave, and 
 fair, and handsome, and his own eyes so kind, 
 that he appeared like Mrs Agnew's brother. She 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 101 
 
 smiled back and felt at ease. He knew that she 
 would not talk much if addressed directly, so he 
 turned to Mrs Agnew, and engaged in converse 
 about social matters in Colombo — the races, the 
 balls, the tennis tournaments, the matrimonial 
 announcements, and so forth. 
 
 I My leave is shortly up, and I have to return to 
 Matila. I shall sigh for all I leave behind in 
 Colombo.' 
 
 The girl interposed. 
 
 ' I am glad you will be at Matila. I shall hear 
 something of you. My uncle is Ratemahatmya of 
 Matila.' 
 
 He turned to her, pleased to find a topic of 
 conversation, and remarked, — 
 
 ' Indeed, Welletenya ; I know him well, and a 
 fine old fellow he is ; a remarkable specimen of 
 the Kandyan chief. His son is of the same cut as 
 his father, although a bit wilful and headstrong. 
 And do you ever come to his place?' 
 
 ' I have spent many years of my childhood at 
 my uncle's place, the " Mahaganga Walawa " as 
 they call it ; they were happy years, before I went 
 to school. My father then practised in Kandy, 
 and now occupies himself at the Supreme Court.' 
 
 I I hope, young lady, we shall meet, and you may 
 depend that I shall ask the Ratemahatmya to let 
 me see you, should you be at the Walawa. It is 
 only two miles from my house, and I can see its 
 red roof on the slope of the hill among the old 
 trees, across the valley which separates us.' 
 
 Her face lit up with unusual animation, quite 
 innocently and unguardedly, and Gray viewed her 
 with peculiar curiosity. Her beauty was so remark- 
 able, and her grace and elegance differentiated her 
 
102 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 so strikingly from many of the native girls he had 
 seen, that he might be excused for admiring her 
 even as a complete stranger ; but the circum- 
 stances under which he had first met her had put 
 her in a romantic position, and suggested possi- 
 bilities which in other cases might never have 
 come to mind. 
 
 'Kirimanica is sitting to me for her portrait,' 
 observed Mrs Agnew, ' and it is so successful that 
 it is going to London under the title of " One of 
 Singhala's Brightest and Best." I am not to show 
 it here, but if you ever go to Heath Lodge you will 
 see it there. It is for my father.' 
 
 ' Indeed, you could not have a better subject. 
 But I shall be sorry if I am not privileged to see it 
 before it leaves. May I not, Miss Panabokki ? ' 
 
 She laughed at being thus addressed ; it sounded 
 so strange. She supposed English custom required 
 it. She shook her head, and answered, — 
 
 ' I cannot say " Yes," for it is not mine, and my 
 father would say " No " if I asked him. What 
 does the lady say ? ' 
 
 ( I think,' said Mrs Agnew, ' Mr Gray must help 
 to pack it, and then he will have the opportunity 
 he wants.' 
 
 So they went gaily to tea, and Kirimanica felt 
 that she was really enjoying herself. While the 
 two others were talking, she looked sometimes 
 covertly at Gray, scanning his features and study- 
 ing his varied expressions, to search out, as it 
 were, his real character. He seemed to attempt 
 to conceal no thought, and in that respect was 
 different from those of her own race. He also, 
 while he spoke, looked straight at the eyes of the 
 person addressed. That was better, she thought, 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 103 
 
 than the averted glance common in her country, 
 by which the real meaning of what was said was 
 veiled. A smile begotten of honesty, kindness 
 and good temper always lighted up his face, which 
 encouraged the confidence of the timid. The fair 
 hair and moustache, the blue eyes, the fresh com- 
 plexion, the tall stature and the fine physique, 
 combined to make him a worthy representative of 
 the manly people of the North, and the impression 
 he had made that evening, when he lay stricken 
 upon the couch, gained fresh force to-day when 
 the girl could talk to him and observe his attrac- 
 tions to the full. She had never before spoken 
 freely, and, except under the guardianship of her 
 parents, to an Englishman, nor perhaps ever to 
 one like him, and her susceptible nature was 
 captivated. Against possible dangers of this sort 
 she had never been warned, and had no means by 
 which to resist them. She was, in fact, in a state 
 of passive receptivity, and secretly nurtured, in her 
 inexperience, the awakening of her susceptibilities 
 in this new phase of her life, asking herself 
 no question as to where her affections were 
 being led, or, in the end, where she might be 
 stranded. 
 
 Gray thought then that Kirimanica was a nice 
 little girl, and he remembered her affectionately 
 for the solicitude displayed at the time of his 
 accident. He was mindful of the incident of the 
 flowers, too. She was so beautiful that no one — 
 certainly not one in the ardour of youth — could 
 refrain from looking at her as often as there was a 
 pretext. To-day he had, moreover, come to Lotus 
 Hall to satisfy both his curiosity and to make 
 better acquaintance with the girl. He had landed 
 
104 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 in Ceylon but a few years before, and with little 
 knowledge of native life and character, ignorant, 
 he would have been ready to confess, that good 
 breeding, education and refinement, such as they 
 would be in England, even existed among the 
 Singhalese ; and up to now he had been but 
 very partially made acquainted with the fact, 
 so little had his section of society, exclusively 
 European, had to do with that of natives and of 
 persons of mixed birth. His recent adventure 
 had come to enlighten him, and this afternoon 
 the innate prejudice of his race against everything 
 Oriental had been unexpectedly diminished. He 
 could not deny that he was pleased to find that 
 the outward beauty of the girl pictured her in- 
 wardly refined and simple nature, and that her 
 disposition was as fine as that of his own sister. 
 He was a little amused at the undisguised admira- 
 tion revealed in her gaze at him, but attributed it 
 to childish inexperience and to her unwonted 
 position. 
 
 Mrs Agnew had watched the scene with quiet 
 amusement, and indulged her propensity for 
 romance in weaving in her mind a little drama, 
 in which these two were to be the principal 
 characters. She had herself no prejudice against 
 mere colour, and she found herself actually hoping 
 that these two, types of the best among their own 
 people, might some day throw over what they 
 possessed of it to bring about the natural sequel 
 to the eventful occasion of their first meeting. 
 However, this was a mere hope of her own. 
 
 It was the time for the evening drive, or for 
 croquet at the Ladies' Club, so Gray rose to say 
 good-bye. 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 105 
 
 1 Come again, Mr Gray/ said his hostess ; ( you 
 are always welcome here. Regard us as friends, 
 and let us know when you are likely to be in 
 Colombo, that we may endeavour to take you 
 in. You must be lonely, I fear, at Matila.' 
 
 Her address was charming, her voice always 
 full of music, and to-day, in a well-fitting, plain, 
 white dress, relieved by a sky-blue ribbon at the 
 throat, her beauty never more striking. Gray felt 
 no surprise that among men she was so univer- 
 sally admired and the common subject of talk. 
 Her happy mode of expressing herself helped 
 to attract him, and he shook hands warmly, 
 saying — 
 
 'A thousand thanks, Mrs Agnew ; I shall 
 gratefully remember your kind invitation. It 
 will not be my fault if I do not see you when- 
 ever I come to Colombo, and you and your hus- 
 band will accept my hospitality, will you not, if 
 you pass my way ? ' 
 
 ' We shall be delighted ; and now say adieu to 
 my little sister, as I call her. Kirimanica,' laugh- 
 ingly, 'you won't forget Mr Gray? I should 
 like you to remain friends, and you must meet 
 here again some day.' 
 
 The girl felt some confusion, but extended her 
 hand to the gentleman, who held it in both his 
 own, saying, — 
 
 ' Yes, friends, recollect, however different may 
 be our paths in life.' 
 
 Before she could frame a reply, appreciating 
 her embarrassment, and bearing a pretty picture 
 with him in his memory, he was gone. 
 
 Kirimanica tripped across the lawn, Mrs Agnew 
 watching the retreating figure from the drawing- 
 
io6 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 room window, humming to herself the lines of a 
 favourite song — 
 
 ' Smile on, sweet eyes, although the pathway darken, 
 Pray on, O heart, amid the busy strife.' 
 
 The girl had her mind full for days afterwards 
 of this unexpected interview. There was one 
 thing she would have liked to know about the 
 man she so reverenced. Was it the Christian 
 faith which had formed his admirable character 
 and given colour to his fine qualities? 
 
 That evening, rather than conceal anything 
 from her father and mother, Kirimanica briefly 
 told them of the incidents of the afternoon. The 
 former was particularly displeased. The rencontre 
 with Mr Gray was not in accordance with his idea 
 of the seclusion which should hedge a Singhalese 
 girl of family. The liberty common enough in 
 the West was quite unsuited to and even dan- 
 gerous for his daughter. How easily, in her in- 
 experience, advantage might be taken of her. 
 At first he was quite heated by these reflections, 
 and said, — 
 
 'My daughter, you must go there no more. 
 Your life is cast among us, and you can gain 
 nothing by mixing with people who are our 
 betters and are foreign to our customs.' 
 
 The girl's countenance was so sad that her 
 mother, although she rarely gainsaid the decisions 
 of her husband, remarked quietly, — 
 
 'The lady of Mr Agnew is kind to the child, 
 and no harm has been done to her. To see the 
 lady alone sometimes can do no ill. She has 
 taught her no evil, and the child is happy with 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 107 
 
 her. Now that she knows so much she looks 
 for other company than that of her mother, who, 
 although she loves the child, is simple and ignor- 
 ant. It seems from no fault of hers that she 
 spoke to the gentleman. He, too, seems brave 
 and honourable. Father of my child, let her 
 have this pleasure now and then.' 
 
 Panabokki, still ruffled, did not express himself 
 further, which the others took to be a favourable 
 sign, and Kirimanica, drawing her chair near to 
 her mother's, put her arm round the devoted soul 
 and laid her head upon her shoulder, 
 
 Upon saying good-night the father kissed her 
 on the forehead, and patted her head, which 
 seemed to show that peace reigned again. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 One morning Helen came into the dining-room 
 to the early breakfast which it was necessary for 
 her husband, an office man, to take, and went up 
 to him as he sat at table, feeling an old impulse 
 arise. She smoothed his hair with her hand, and 
 stooped to invite a kiss, with the word, * Dear 
 husband ! ' 
 
 The kiss was exchanged, but his eyes were 
 upon the newspaper, and her endeavour to meet 
 his glance, so that she might better express what 
 she desired to say, was futile. She suppressed a 
 sigh, took her seat at the opposite end of the table, 
 remarking, — 
 
 'George, we have arranged a trip to Ambalan- 
 goda to-day for sketching — Mrs Airlie and a 
 friend, Mr Norton and myself. I wonder if you 
 could come too, or would it be a bore? I like 
 to have you with me sometimes.' 
 
 Norton seemed almost indispensable now, and 
 with difficulty Agnew restrained himself from 
 speaking impatiently. 
 
 ' I could not indeed, dear wife. What with the 
 Council meeting and my own work I have a long 
 day before me. Go by all means. I would rather 
 it had been with a lady other than Mrs Airlie. 
 She and the friend she has picked up — a financial- 
 ist or traveller who is visiting Ceylon, and can 
 
 108 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 109 
 
 amuse himself with her without fear of conse- 
 quences — are being talked about by everybody. 
 She is scarcely prudent — I hardly like to say it — 
 scarcely discreet. Your own reputation will not 
 be enhanced by the association.' 
 
 ' I had promised to go, but still, if you think I 
 should not, I will even now make an excuse.' 
 She rose and went to his side, putting her arm 
 round him. ' George, your wish shall be mine.' 
 
 ' Oh, no,' he said, ' I have nothing to urge against 
 your going. But I think you had better neither 
 seek Mrs Airlie's society nor imitate her example. 
 Good-bye, I must be off. I suppose you will be 
 back by dinner-time.' 
 
 He had not looked at her as he left the room, 
 and again she felt stabbed by the apparent 
 neglect. She stood at the window gazing upon 
 the lotus pond, where the flowers reposing upon 
 its placid surface turned their spotless faces 
 to the bright sun, unconcerned for the stormy 
 elements that warred around in human life. In 
 her mind the thought passed, ' I would I could 
 be as these. To be in perpetual peace and un- 
 disturbed by the distractions that sometimes seem 
 so hateful and intrusive. And he could help me 
 if he would, but he, the strength, and who should 
 be the guide of my life, fails me.' 
 
 As she dressed to fulfil her engagement, a 
 withered lily upon her looking-glass recalled the 
 events of a few nights back. The flower had 
 faded quickly, pressed in the warmth and softness 
 of her fair bosom. 
 
 They were to meet at the railway station to go 
 to their destination by train. Helen arrived there 
 a few minutes before time, and, of the party, 
 
no A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 observed only Harold Norton. He said, with his 
 customary effusiveness, — 
 
 1 It is delightful to find that nothing has pre- 
 vented you from coming. It seems to me that 
 I live now for these little favours.' 
 
 'But where,' replied she, 'are the others? I 
 hardly like to go without them, nice as you are, 
 you know. One must think as the world thinks.' 
 ' They will be here immediately, I do not doubt, 
 but anyhow you will not disappoint me. I have 
 few pleasures except in your company, and all 
 arrangements at Ambalangoda have been made 
 in advance. Now, do be kind.' 
 
 Helen was much perplexed, and felt quite angry 
 with Mrs Airlie, whom she suspected of another 
 ruse. In fact, the game was only too apparent, 
 but there was little time for reflection. The train 
 was punctual. It was plain that the other two 
 could not now accompany them, even if they 
 wished to do so. So when Norton held open the 
 door of the carriage, which was empty, she jumped 
 in, feeling piqued, and saying inwardly that she 
 could take good care of herself under the circum- 
 stances. It was an opportunity her companion 
 had long been anticipating, and the day promised 
 to be for him, at all events, a pleasant one. They 
 had their sketch-books with them, and, containing 
 as they did souvenirs of Continental travel, a good 
 hour was put in while comparing notes and recall- 
 ing the events connected with the various pictures. 
 Every now and then the glorious outlines of the 
 coast south of Colombo occupied their attention ; 
 the wide sweep of beach, fringed with palms and 
 fronted by coral reefs, upon which the waves 
 tempestuously dashed, and, here and there, a little 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON in 
 
 headland where the rocks outcropped, and under 
 which a number of outrigged fishing-boats found 
 a shelter. The scenery was novel to Helen, and 
 she experienced a childish delight in its varied 
 and romantic features, presented in the vivid 
 colours peculiar to Ceylon, which she had, in her 
 life in Colombo, almost ceased to feel. She 
 seemed to be free of the restraints which, in 
 a woman's routine, often become so irksome, and 
 her present sensations brought new radiance to her 
 blue eyes and an unwonted rose tint to her cheeks. 
 
 Norton watched her from the opposite seat and 
 revelled in the beauty she displayed, not only in 
 face but in the perfect moulding of her form. He 
 was not a man who thrust away from him the 
 suggestions that are awakened by such con- 
 templation ; he rather encouraged them, and his 
 passion for her throbbed in every pulse. 
 
 ' You are not sorry that you have come to-day, 
 even alone with me, Helen ? ' he said. 
 
 • No, I am not. But you forget that you have 
 no right to use that name.' 
 
 ' If you object, I will not, but/ taking her hand, 
 ' one's feelings are not always under command. 
 I spoke, too, as I often think of you.' 
 
 'Very well, you must not be naughty again.' 
 
 She withdrew her hand and looked serious. 
 He could not help contrasting in mind her refined 
 beauty with that of the Singhalese girl from the 
 Horton Plains who was often his companion at 
 his far-away place under the Peak, and helped to 
 while away the idle hours. After a silence of 
 some minutes Mrs Agnew remarked, — 
 
 ' I sometimes wish, Mr Norton, that I could 
 regard you as a friend, and a true friend. There 
 
ii2 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 are limitations to that feeling which a woman, 
 married as I am, must set. I should be sorry to 
 seem cool, and to you who are awfully nice, but — 
 may I say it? — you seem to want to go further 
 than a friend should, and then I feel timid and 
 hesitating. Won't you accept, once for all, the 
 position you should occupy? Our friendship will 
 then last, while now it often seems in danger of 
 being wrecked.' 
 
 He was about to reply precipitately, but restrained 
 himself, and with an assumed coolness, answered, — 
 
 ' Let me be with you and name your own terms. 
 You know it is only in your company that I find 
 real pleasure. But if I am to hang round like 
 a mere dog, thankful for any morsel that is thrown 
 to me, I suppose it must be so.' 
 
 He looked quite pained, and she impulsively 
 placed her hand on the back of his, as it lay 
 upon his knee, and exclaimed, — 
 
 ' I have never treated you like that. I have 
 been your companion whenever you sought me, 
 and never showed that I was ungrateful. Perhaps 
 you see me too much. I blame myself for it. 
 Seek distraction with others.' 
 
 'If I could, I might; but it is too late. A 
 dominant passion seems to have usurped the place 
 of every other feeling, and I find no means of 
 suppressing it. Surely you know ! ' He caught 
 both her hands in his, speaking with strange 
 emphasis upon the last words, and strove to look 
 straight into the depths of her bewitching eyes, 
 but she would not respond, and, shaking off his 
 grasp, looked far away into the offing, where 
 a number of tiny fishing-craft were dancing like 
 corks upon the billows. 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 113 
 
 1 Change the subject, please, do ; it pains me 
 deeply/ said Helen. ' As you are a gentleman, 
 listen to me.' 
 
 He said no more, and the train shortly after- 
 wards drew up at the Ambalangoda station. 
 Everything was arranged completely. There was 
 a carriage to drive if desired, and a boat, with an 
 awning, in which they might drift upon the charm- 
 ing lake, and Norton's servants, sent on ahead, 
 had prepared an elegant tiffin at the Rest House. 
 He had even been to the trouble of procuring 
 magnificent roses from up-country wherewith to 
 decorate the table. 
 
 Upon their arrival a telegram from Mrs Airlie 
 was handed to them, which ran, — 
 
 ' Deeply sorry that we have missed traim 
 Thousand apologies.' 
 
 Mrs Agnew was slightly mollified upon reading- 
 it, although she believed that there was a purpose 
 behind, and Mr Norton seemed quite content to 
 do without the other two guests. 
 
 The table was laid in the verandah, where the 
 spray almost reached them from the waves as 
 they broke upon the rocks. There were no other 
 visitors at the Rest House, and they were able to 
 pass a pleasant hour undisturbed, loitering over 
 tiffin. There was turtle soup (one of the real 
 luxuries of Ceylon), whitebait, truffled turkey, 
 stewed prunes with vanilla ice cream, and 
 delicious cool mangosteens, candied dates from 
 Malta, and nougat of Montelimar, accompanied 
 by a glass or two of Roederer. 
 
 It certainly was delightful to be out of Colombo, 
 H 
 
ii 4 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 oppressive by comparison, even for a day, and to 
 gather fresh life from the cool sea breeze and the 
 stimulating odours of the weed on the rocks. 
 Helen was young, and simple enough to enjoy 
 the tasty refection. 
 
 ' You are an extravagant creature,' she said, ' to 
 have provided all these nice things. Of all, I like 
 the roses best. They are as fragrant as those we 
 used to love so much at Heath Lodge. I must 
 thank you, Mr Norton, for all your trouble and 
 forethought.' 
 
 1 For you it is very little to do,' he said, * and 
 I do not often get the chance. Take it as an 
 earnest of my devotion.' 
 
 I You know I was brought up very simply, and 
 it was only when we had friends to dinner or 
 supper that we attempted a banquet like this. 
 My father used to say that the sensuous modes 
 of modern life were incompatible with intellectual 
 refinement, and I think one learns that truth when 
 one puts them to the test' 
 
 I I am afraid that it will not find much accept- 
 ance among Colonials, anyhow. Among men, 
 especially, I should say, appetite comes first. 
 Women are by nature more delicate in their 
 tastes, and live on a higher plane than we do. 
 They ought to be brought up on milk and straw- 
 berries.' 
 
 ' A delicate diet, it must be confessed, and 
 extremely romantic, but hardly calculated to 
 make us wear well. We have to do more than 
 live like canaries, who are only expected to sing 
 and look pretty.' 
 
 'Well, you will allow that many do not do 
 more than that.' 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 115 
 
 ' Yes, it is sad to think so, but we are debarred 
 from doing much that we might usefully do. I 
 should like to see the natural talents of every 
 woman allowed full play and encouraged to the 
 utmost. If we are insipid and^colourless, it is due 
 to the system under which we live. Some of us 
 do not find full scope for our gifts in, the domestic 
 circle, and if we try to work outside that, diffi- 
 culties are put in our way and our intellectual 
 qualities sneered at. Had I remained unmarried 
 I should have sought to succeed in art. The 
 atmosphere of work, both for men and women, is 
 the healthiest to live in ; and for all to work, my 
 father was wont to say, is the only means by which 
 any society can be what it should.' 
 
 ' It is rather too learned a subject for me,' re- 
 marked Norton. ' I have been content to find 
 pleasure in women's society apart from their in- 
 tellectual attainments ; perhaps because it amuses. 
 Certainly they are interesting, and then there are 
 always " possibilities," which give piquancy to one's 
 relations with women. With some a man finds 
 there exists affinity, which he cannot describe nor 
 can account for. It is like the compatibility which 
 chemists know to exist between certain elements 
 We cannot always permit its development, and yet 
 it is there, and prompts an intimacy.' 
 
 1 Dangerous, decidedly,' said Helen, smiling. ' It 
 might account for a great deal, but I fear it will 
 not be accepted by the world as a reasonable guide 
 for conduct; and now, if you have had enough 
 wine, shall we go to our sketching ? ' 
 
 They took boat and glided for a mile or two 
 upon the placid lake, to a point where the distant 
 hills formed a dreamy background to the exquisite 
 
n6 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 vista. Easels and sketching-blocks were produced, 
 and, seated under a banyan tree, they were soon 
 engrossed in their occupation. Some hours passed 
 by heedlessly, for the charm of her work made 
 Helen regardless of time, and her companion was 
 too happy in her society to think of it. The hues 
 were changing, and a purple tint overspreading the 
 mountains as the sun declined in the west, where a 
 bank of thick clouds had formed. 
 
 She suddenly recollected herself, and exclaimed, — 
 
 1 Oh, Mr Norton, you remember we have to be in 
 Colombo by dinner-time ? How about the train ? 
 I depend upon you, mind, for delivering your pre- 
 cious charge safely, this evening, at Lotus Hall.' 
 
 ' By Jove ! I am afraid we have run it rather fine. 
 Let us pack up quickly and be off! ' 
 
 Everything was speedily placed in the boat, and 
 the men urged to pull across the lake as quickly 
 as possible. Mrs Agnew looked anxious. She 
 began to realise that she might be led into a diffi- 
 cult position. What Harold Norton was think- 
 ing of he did not divulge. She seemed distressed, 
 and for that he felt sorry. But there was another 
 aspect of the case which he welcomed. He said, 
 however, — 
 
 ' Do not be disquieted, the men are doing their 
 best; we may catch the train. It is the last one 
 to-night. If we do not, you will have to make 
 yourself comfortable at the Rest House.' 
 
 She felt ready to cry, and answered, — 
 
 1 Please, for heaven's sake, offer them anything 
 to catch the train ! Remember how painful it will 
 be for me.' 
 
 He did. He was man enough to try to help 
 her, even now, in the difficulty. The sum he 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 117 
 
 named to the boatmen was large enough to prompt 
 them to put their whole strength into the task, and 
 the boat flew over the calm surface, the foam and 
 spray from the oars and keel glowing a phosphores- 
 cent blue, as it were from a million sapphires. 
 
 The effort was useless. Within a quarter of a 
 mile of the town they saw the steam of the engine 
 rising in the air and coloured pink by the set- 
 ting sun, while the whistle announced its de- 
 parture before even the boat had touched the 
 shore. 
 
 'What shall we do?' said Helen, in a broken 
 voice, for she began to foresee the construction 
 that would be put upon her absence. ' Harold, you 
 have said often you cared for me. Now, prove it 
 and help me. Be true to yourself as a gentleman, 
 and my friend ! ' 
 
 * I am helpless. Even if we tried to get a con- 
 veyance it would be absurd to think of driving 
 fifty miles to-night by it. Besides, if you are to 
 be suspected, the drive would be worse for you 
 than stopping here.' 
 
 ' But cannot we have a special train ? Anything 
 to get back and avoid stopping here ! ' 
 
 ' I will ask, if it will please you. Drive to the 
 Rest House while I make inquiries, and I will 
 come shortly.' 
 
 When she left, he half hesitated. Should he 
 carry out her request now that he had her here, 
 and, in any event, would receive all the blame for 
 detaining her — the one he longed for above any in 
 the world? He thrust the thought away. He 
 could not approach her with a falsehood. 
 
 After making inquiry at the railway station he 
 made his way to the Rest House, and found Mrs 
 
n8 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 Agnew impatiently pacing up and down the 
 verandah. She hastened to meet him, saying, — 
 
 1 Well, have you been successful ? Don't say you 
 have not ! ' 
 
 ' They can do it for a large sum, but will have to 
 get instructions from Colombo. It is not probable 
 that a special can be here before midnight. The 
 first train in the morning is at seven o'clock, and 
 reaches Colombo at nine. I will do what you 
 wish. It seems to me that the wisest plan is to 
 sleep here and go back by the morning train.' 
 
 ' I cannot. I am full of apprehension. You do 
 not know my husband as I do. He will regard 
 this detention as a prearranged thing. Put your- 
 self in my place and imagine what I shall have 
 to go through.' 
 
 Norton said no more, but called for paper and 
 pen, sat down and wrote a few lines to the station- 
 master regarding provision of a special as soon as 
 possible, despatching the note by a servant. He 
 then coolly ordered dinner, for which there were 
 ample supplies remaining from tiffin. 
 
 ' Now, Mrs Agnew,' he said, ' be cheerful. We 
 have done our best to retrieve the delay. You 
 would like to retire for a short time, I have no 
 doubt. There is a room ready for you.' 
 
 ' You have been good to me, and I shall remember 
 it. There is one thing more that I will ask you 
 to do — that is to telegraph to George and explain 
 my absence.' 
 
 'Certainly, if you will only smile upon me. 
 While you are at your toilette I will go over to the 
 telegraph office.' 
 
 Bad weather was threatening. The sky was 
 overcast, the wind had risen, and was blowing 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 119 
 
 violently, and the palms were waving about like 
 reeds. The waves beat upon the shore with a 
 sound like thunder, and, now and again, the cries 
 of the boatmen, as they ran in for safety, sounded 
 above the general din. Helen, susceptible to such 
 impressions, gathered fresh alarms from the war of 
 the elements, to her a portent of coming disaster. 
 The distant thunder added gloom to her presenti- 
 ments. She hurriedly completed her toilette, and 
 was quite glad to find Norton in the dining-room, 
 which was bright with lights, and the table decked 
 again with the fragrant roses. 
 
 ' I hope your usual spirits have returned,' he 
 remarked, ' and that you are satisfied that we have 
 done all we can in this emergency. It will give 
 me a few more happy hours in your society, which 
 I hope you will not grudge.' 
 
 ' No, indeed, you have been kind ! A brother 
 could not have done more. The day has really 
 been a charming one. I am sorry for this contre- 
 temps, that is all.' 
 
 ' Oh, it will be all right, depend upon it ; but it 
 seems likely to be a bad night. Do not be too 
 sanguine about getting away. If I could, you may 
 be sure I would keep you — always ! ' 
 
 Helen placed her finger to her lips and shook 
 her head merrily. 
 
 1 That topic is forbidden, and this evening par- 
 ticularly.' 
 
 He bit his lips. He was always being reproved, 
 and yet had striven hard to win some favour from 
 her. 
 
 They sat down to a tempting little dinner. The 
 rain was falling heavily, and the doors and windows 
 on the sea side of the house were obliged to be 
 
i2o A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 closed. However, within everything looked cosy. 
 The champagne, well iced, was a delicious restora- 
 tion for low spirits, and after taking a glass, Helen 
 felt more happy about herself, and was sure that 
 Mr Agnew, after all, would be satisfied with her ex- 
 planations. He had probably, already, after receipt 
 of the telegram, understood the situation. Norton 
 pressed her to take more, but her second glass 
 was her last. He helped himself, however, largely, 
 and said, presently, — 
 
 ' If you really mean to be off at midnight, how 
 shall we pass the time between now and then ? 
 You will sit up, I suppose — or are you going to 
 play propriety and leave me alone ? Perhaps you 
 would like to rest ? ' 
 
 1 No,' she replied, ' that would be unkind. We 
 will play cards, if there are any to be got, or you 
 shall tell me of your experiences. I am sure you 
 have had many/ 
 
 ' If you will only listen, I can tell you a great 
 deal. But you must promise to let me talk in my 
 own way to-night for once, and give me a little 
 latitude.' 
 
 Norton ordered the servants to clear away and 
 to pack up the things that were to go back to 
 Colombo. The flowers were left upon the table. 
 He selected one of the best, and approaching Helen, 
 said, — 
 
 ' To-night, wear this one, to please me, and to 
 show that you feel no vexation for my carelessness 
 in leading you into this difficulty.' 
 
 She smiled charmingly, and turned her eyes 
 upon him with an expression of tenderness, which 
 he was only too ready to mark. 
 
 ' I cannot be vexed with you, of all people. I 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 121 
 
 accept the flower,' fastening it in her bosom. ' I 
 confess this evening, just for one minute, I was 
 a little suspicious of you when you neglected to 
 look at your watch. Well, you only forgot. I 
 will say no more. The consequences will be upon 
 poor me. They have managed to find us some 
 cards. We will play ecarte! 
 
 They sat for an hour thus employed. A furious 
 storm was raging outside. At times their voices 
 were drowned by the noise. The lightning flashed 
 vividly every few minutes, and the thunder-claps 
 shook the very house. Helen began again to be 
 disquieted, rose from her chair, and peeped through 
 the Venetians, but quickly retreated, half frightened 
 by the vehemence of the tempest. The servants 
 had all withdrawn for shelter, the house was shut 
 up all round, and they were alone together. 
 
 Helen looked nervously at her watch, and began 
 to feel more embarrassed than she cared for her 
 companion to see. He began, — 
 
 1 Now, I see you are tired of cards. I will tell you 
 of my " experiences." A year ago I sailed from 
 Old England, after a careless, jolly holiday, fancy 
 free, and pleased with all the world. I had never 
 had any great passion. Always ready for work, and 
 equally ready for play. With no serious purpose, 
 you might say, but, like a thousand other men, 
 turning to women sometimes for mere amuse- 
 ment, sometimes owning to regret for my folly. 
 But on board the ship that brought me out I met 
 one whose like I seem never before to have known 
 — you look conscious — whose presence grew ever 
 to be with me in thought, sleeping or waking, 
 however I might strive to be rid of it ; whose 
 lovely face came to be stamped upon my memory, 
 
i22 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 and the mere touch of whose hand set my pulses 
 wildly beating. She liked my company, and, day 
 by day, the preference she showed strengthened 
 the hope that I might one day win some of her 
 love, although another had already won the flower 
 of it' 
 
 She had flushed like the red rose she was 
 wearing, and upon which her eyes drooped, while 
 her hands were clasped upon her lap. His speech 
 was in the nature of an accusation, and she 
 received it in silence. He saw in this encourage- 
 ment and walking up to where she sat, ex- 
 claimed, — 
 
 ' Helen, my soul's darling, lift your eyes to 
 mine and tell me that my hope is not a false 
 one.' 
 
 Before she could resist his arms were tightly 
 round her, and his lips were pressed a dozen times 
 fervently to hers. She started up, and, with a 
 great effort, freed herself from his embrace and 
 burst into tears, feeling her impotence, and keenly 
 sensible of the indignity to which she had been 
 subjected. She sank again into her chair, and 
 covered her eyes with her handkerchief. Between 
 her sobs she ejaculated, — 
 
 ' I trusted you and have been deceived. There 
 can be nothing more between us. Leave me, for 
 mercy's sake, or I must go even to face the storm 
 alone.' 
 
 Norton almost reeled under the excitement of 
 conflicting feelings. For the moment, with her in 
 his embrace, in the exquisite sweetness of those 
 stolen kisses, he had almost lost control of himself. 
 He thought she would have responded, but was 
 mistaken. He was still breathing hurriedly, and 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 123 
 
 strode up and down the room, struggling to be 
 calm. He saw that she was deeply distressed, and, 
 his manly instinct reasserting itself, he said, — 
 
 ' Fear nothing, I will leave you. I have been 
 wrong.' 
 
 The door closed, and Norton went out into the 
 night. The storm had passed, but the great waves 
 still dashed upon the beach and threw up sheets 
 of spray. The cool air calmed the fever of his 
 passion, but he was furious with himself. He had 
 chosen a wrong time — had staked all and lost. 
 She was gone from him and would not return. 
 Gone for ever. He cursed himself savagely. He 
 must have paced the beach for hours. At times 
 he would sit down upon the rocks and moodily 
 watch the restless surf. The night sped, and a 
 pale gleam lit up the sky behind the ragged out- 
 line of the distant mountains. Birds twittered in 
 the suriga trees. The servants were rising, and 
 the movement of human life was beginning 
 once more. 
 
 Norton strolled with assumed carelessness to- 
 wards the house, and remarked to one of the 
 men, — 
 
 ' Well, there was no train last night. Did any 
 message arrive about it ? ' 
 
 The servant gave him to understand that the 
 telegraph had been interrupted by the storm of 
 the preceding evening, and that no arrangements 
 could in consequence be made. 
 
 He felt guilty, and also sorry. Sorry for the 
 poor girl whom he had designed to trap, now 
 that she had to face alone the blame that really 
 belonged to him. Even the telegram that should 
 have reached Agnew on the preceding evening 
 
i2 4 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 had then failed to be transmitted. How should 
 he tell her this ? 
 
 They knocked gently at the door of the dining- 
 room, and, getting no response, entered. Mrs 
 Agnew was lying fast asleep upon the sofa, worn 
 out with apprehension and grief. A few golden 
 tresses lay across her fair cheek, and her eyelids 
 were heavy from the unwonted tears that flowed in 
 the silent hours of the night. Norton was obliged 
 to speak loudly to rouse her, when she jumped up, 
 blushing in her surprise. He said, — 
 
 'The train failed us last night. Your privacy 
 has been respected and you have been left alone 
 as you desired. If you will be ready, we can start 
 for Colombo at seven o'clock.' 
 
 She recalled everything, but would not, even by 
 her manner, admit before the servants that their 
 relative positions were changed. No one should 
 know a word of it but her husband. She replied, — 
 
 ' It is vexatious, but we must make the best of 
 it. I am glad to think that Mr Agnew received 
 my telegram last night' 
 
 Norton did not like, in her present frame of 
 mind, to tell her the truth. The telegram was, in 
 all probability, only now in course of delivery. 
 
 On the way back neither spoke. Mrs Agnew 
 was obliged to put up with Norton's presence in 
 the railway carriage, but pretended to occupy her- 
 self with a book. At times she burned with 
 indignation against him for the insult he had 
 offered her. Again the fit would pass off and 
 she was half inclined to forgive him. He had 
 only loved too well, and that is acceptable to any 
 woman, however particular she may be. But she 
 would not make any sign that she was relenting. 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 125 
 
 Her sense of duty to her husband was too strong, 
 however weak and indulgent she might herself be. 
 
 Upon arrival at the station, Norton saw her to a 
 conveyance, and said, — 
 
 1 I have been wrong — mad — wicked ! but I 
 deeply regret it. Can I hope to be forgiven ? ' 
 
 She simply replied, — 
 
 ( Your repentance must be proved before it can 
 be accepted as sincere. Good morning — I should 
 say good-bye.' 
 
 The night had been a troubled one for the 
 master of Lotus Hall. The carriage had been 
 to the station to meet the evening train at seven 
 o'clock, but had returned empty. No lady had 
 arrived. No telegram of explanation had followed. 
 Had there been an accident ? Surely, if so, news 
 would have been sent to him. Agnew trembled 
 when another alternative presented itself to his 
 mind, and the perspiration stood in beads upon his 
 brow. Could it be, then, that the day's excursion 
 was a blind to get away, that his wife was really 
 gone for good with the one man whom he sus- 
 pected, and who had been so persistent in his 
 attentions ? It was a terrible thought, and as it 
 slowly gained strength he seemed in a few minutes 
 to be passing through the tortures of the damned. 
 Like phantoms of the past, his own misdeeds came 
 one by one to mind, and it was as if he were laid 
 upon a rack of mental agony to expiate each one. 
 Then he recalled the morning of that day, when 
 his wife sought his caresses, which she so much 
 craved for, but of which he was so niggardly, and he 
 condemned himself for neglecting her and casting 
 her into temptation. His wife flown — the only 
 one, the lovely bride to whom he had given his 
 
126 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 best and truest love, his honour, and his wealth ! 
 It was terrible, too terrible to be real. 
 
 He summoned courage to put on an outward 
 calm. He would not have the servants privy to 
 his fears. He seated himself at the dinner-table 
 without a word, and pretended to eat, but he could 
 plainly see that the very domestics who waited 
 upon him wore an air of perplexity and gloom, as 
 if they shared his thoughts. 
 
 Later, the head servant ventured to ask if dinner 
 was to be kept ready for his mistress's return, or if 
 the house was to be shut up. Agnew merely 
 replied in the negative, that the lady was detained 
 by friends, and would not perhaps return until 
 next day. That was soon enough, forsooth, for 
 the horrible news to be known and published. 
 The lights were accordingly put out for the most 
 part, but the faithful old servant who had for many 
 years waited upon his master's wishes in all his 
 moods, and held his interests as his own, sat down 
 near the front door to spend the night in waiting 
 for his loved mistress's return. Something had 
 gone wrong, he was sure. The maid had been 
 told to expect Mrs Agnew by dinner-time, and 
 her evening dress was laid out. He had noted 
 his master's agitation. Could there have been 
 an accident this stormy night? Only that, he 
 was certain, would have prevented her coming 
 back. 
 
 George Agnew retired to his study and pur- 
 posely turned his light low, in order that it might 
 be thought that he had gone to rest. But sleep 
 came not, and the raging of the elements outside 
 pictured the inward tempest which seemed to be 
 rending to fragments his very soul. He sank into 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 127 
 
 an arm-chair, after pacing the room for some hours, 
 and half dozed, until the hoarse cry of the crows, 
 and the toll of a bell for matins, ushered in the 
 dawn. 
 
 A servant brought his tea as usual to his study, 
 and was surprised to find his master still un- 
 dressed. The latter started up, took tea, refreshed 
 himself with a cold bath, ordered his horse, and 
 went for a hard gallop round the racecourse. The 
 cool air and the exercise gave him tone, and he 
 felt better able now to meet the dread ordeal that 
 he was destined, he thought, to pass through. By 
 nine o'clock he was dressed in his usual office 
 clothes, and was sitting at his study table opening 
 his correspondence. 
 
 The servants, who were busy at the morning 
 task of setting in order the house, were delighted 
 when a carriage drove up and their mistress 
 alighted. The old butler hastened forward to 
 receive the sketching apparatus and bag that 
 Helen had taken with her, saying, — 
 
 ' I have waited up for lady all night, frightened 
 that some accident had happened. Master say 
 nothing, but he no sleep.' 
 
 'Surely,' said Mrs Agnew, 'the telegram came 
 which I sent from Ambalangoda ? ' 
 
 1 No, lady, telegram not come.' 
 
 She passed quickly through the passage, knocked, 
 as was her wont, at the study door, for fear of 
 intruding when visitors were present. Her hus- 
 band's voice bade her come in. Upon entering, 
 Helen saw, from his look, that she had the worst 
 to fear. He had then put a construction upon her 
 absence that perhaps most men would. His cold 
 and silent reception of her rather unnerved her. 
 
i28 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 She halted on the opposite side of the table at 
 which he sat, saying, — 
 
 'George, I was detained at Ambalangoda through 
 no fault of mine last night. We sought to get 
 a special train but failed, and it seems that a 
 telegram explaining matters to you, which was 
 sent in the evening, has not reached you. I am 
 deeply sorry for the anxiety you have suffered. 
 Let me tell you the whole of what has passed. 
 May I sit down here ? ' 
 
 He uttered not a word, and she falteringly drew 
 a low chair near to his and would have rested her 
 arm upon his knee, but he repulsed her. The 
 action sent a spasm through the poor girl such 
 as a mortal stab might produce. She hid her face 
 in her hands, and cried bitterly. 
 
 Agnew rose from his chair, put his hands behind 
 him, and walked to and fro, keeping his eyes fixed 
 upon the wealth of blossom in the lotus pond. To 
 him it seemed as if her utterance and manner were 
 influenced by a sense of guilt. And yet she had 
 come straight to him with apparently nothing to 
 conceal. 
 
 Helen continued, making an effort to be calm, — 
 
 ' Listen, and do not misjudge your wife, who 
 holds your honour as her own. Hear all I have to 
 say, for pity's sake ! ' 
 
 She went through, in exact detail, all that had 
 passed during the preceding evening, recapitulat- 
 ing the very words Harold Norton and she had 
 exchanged. Agnew was furious when he learned 
 of the liberty that had been taken with his wife. 
 He felt that he could not have answered for him- 
 self had the offender been present. But that she 
 should have put herself in a position where such 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 129 
 
 a thing was possible, was clearly due, in his mind, 
 to her own folly and imprudence. He did not like 
 to think what else. He was too proud to ask what 
 more. He strove to restrain himself from speaking, 
 in his anger, such words as might be irrevocable, 
 and he succeeded. He still turned his back upon 
 her and gazed out of the window. When she had 
 concluded her account of the night at Ambalan- 
 goda, and of the journey back to Colombo, she 
 said timidly, — 
 
 1 Dearest husband, I have told you ail, not con- 
 cealing a single thing of what has passed. I was 
 wrong to have gone alone with him. I admit it. 
 I have used the liberty you have given me ill. To 
 pain you seems like to break my heart. Tell me 
 that still I have your trust ! Say that you know 
 I am true to you ! I will prove it, and live for you 
 alone if you will have it so ! Speak, I beseech you.' 
 Agnew turned at last and faced her. It had 
 required a great effort to reply in his usual tones, 
 but there was an iciness in his mode of address 
 which chilled her whole nature. 
 
 'You may remain here. I have no objection 
 to offer to that. To silence the vulgar chatter 
 of the outside world it will be better so. But our 
 relations will be different from what they have 
 been. You will be Mrs Agnew still in name, and 
 that name I shall expect you to respect. As for 
 him, if he dares to hold any communication with 
 you, I shall deal with him finally. Leave me, or 
 I may speak too plainly ! ' 
 
 She walked unsteadily to the door, with one 
 hand pressed upon her heart, and holding with the 
 other to any chair or table that offered her sup- 
 port. At the door she turned and exclaimed, — 
 
 I 
 
i 3 o A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 ' Oh, George, have mercy upon me, I implore 
 you, in my desolation ! My love is all for you, 
 I swear it, as pure and true as on our marriage 
 day. Is it nothing to you ? ' 
 
 She looked so lovely, with the impassioned look 
 of her violet eyes, from which two tears had 
 started and lay upon her pink cheeks, her blonde 
 hair slightly dishevelled, and surrounding her face, 
 as it were, with a golden radiance ; and the tone 
 of her voice was so strangely pathetic that Agnew 
 almost gave way and took her to his heart, but 
 anger and pride prevailed. He made no reply, and 
 she quitted the room, feeling like one banished to 
 outer darkness. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 KlRIMANlCA had been permitted to pay occasional 
 visits to Mrs Agnew, with the understanding that 
 she was to see no other persons upon these occasions. 
 She had been charged with a message to this effect. 
 The mistress of Lotus Hall had found much interest 
 in the girl. Her sympathy and affection were 
 indisputably sincere, and were acceptable to one 
 who was now so lonely in her own life and found 
 so little of those elements elsewhere. Then her 
 genuine admiration for Mrs Agnew was amusing, 
 and her respect for the omniscience which she 
 supposed that lady to possess was interesting. 
 
 The portrait was approaching completion, and, 
 during the sittings, the girl was full of conversa- 
 tion, now that she felt completely at ease in the 
 lady's presence. This often turned upon the 
 Christian faith. She had several times, from 
 memory, recapitulated the sermon heard at St 
 Lucia's. Her own deductions from that, and 
 what she had read in Scripture, had cleared up 
 much that was previously obscure. The emotional 
 aspect of the faith had recommended itself to her 
 simple and innocent nature. She said one day, — 
 
 1 1 often think that you, who ought to be happy 
 with all that you have, are sad, even unhappy. 
 What is the reason ? ' 
 
 131 
 
1 32 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 ' I cannot tell you all I feel, Kirimanica, but 
 happiness consisteth not in the things we possess.' 
 
 4 Not in things we see and touch, but in things 
 that the spirit knows of. When I feel unhappy I 
 pray in my room, and then a bright light seems to 
 come over everything. It is as if an answer came 
 for Jesus Christ's sake. At the temple, when we 
 take our flowers and put them before the shrine, 
 and say that the " Lord Buddha is our refuge," and 
 ask for help to live rightly, it seems that no answer 
 comes. Buddha sleeps in Nirvana. Few of us 
 are good enough to go there. But in Christ, the 
 Bible says, all shall be made alive. It says that 
 eternal life is begun here. Do you not pray? If 
 you do not, why not try ? ' 
 
 Mrs Agnew had often asked herself that ques- 
 tion, ' Why not?' especially in recent days, when 
 a settled gloom had fallen upon her existence. 
 Was it of any use ? Could there be any change 
 wrought by human supplication in the methodical 
 sequence of natural events ? She replied, — 
 
 ' You have been gifted, suddenly, it seems, my 
 child, with a perception which I have not got. 
 Perhaps something prevents its attainment in some 
 people. If you have found comfort, you have a 
 treasure in your belief; but, among us, people who 
 talk much about Christianity often practise it little, 
 and this weakens the belief in its truth we might 
 otherwise feel.' 
 
 ' At the convent her reverence said yesterday that 
 God speaks to men through the Lord Jesus Christ. 
 It seems strange that English people, who have 
 become great by Him, do not follow His precepts.' 
 
 The girl's earnestness arrested Helen's attention. 
 This was a clear case of conviction. It was no 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 133 
 
 mere lesson acquired by reiteration at school. The 
 phenomenon was wonderful. What were the con- 
 ditions of its existence ? Was it produced by mere 
 passive receptivity? Did it arise from a mental 
 acquiescence in a dogma, or did it accompany the 
 active grasp of certain principles ? What was to 
 be the attitude of the disciple? Christ had said 
 that he who would follow Him must bear a cross. 
 She had herself a cross, and it had been with her 
 for some time. Did she know how it was to be 
 carried? Helen said at last, — 
 
 ' Well, Kirimanica, we are often told that we can 
 learn something from everybody. I think you 
 have taught me some things. One day, perhaps, 
 I will tell you how.' 
 
 The girl looked up half puzzled, and closely 
 scrutinised the speaker's face. Helen smiled back, 
 observing, — 
 
 'And now the picture is really finished. Tell 
 me how you like it.' 
 
 The sitter rose, and approaching it, exclaimed, — 
 
 ' It is me, just as the looking-glass would make 
 me. Would English people call it pretty ? I have 
 often heard you speak of things as " pretty," and 
 from the pictures I have seen in books your own 
 face must be " pretty." But then you are fair, like 
 the angels are drawn, and I am dark. No one 
 draws dark angels.' 
 
 Helen could not forbear laughing at her naivete. 
 She answered, — 
 
 ' There is beauty in every race. I ought not to 
 tell you that you are pretty to all people. You 
 are to me; but then that is only my opinion. 
 Perhaps someone else will tell you one day how 
 you look.' 
 
134 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 Kirimanica said, — 
 
 ' There is one thing not in the picture which I 
 wish had been there.' 
 
 'And what is that?' 
 
 Kirimanica put her hand in her pocket and pro- 
 duced a little case, which, opened, proved to contain 
 a cross of plain gold, with a slender chain for the 
 neck. 
 
 ' How come you to have this ? ' asked Helen. 
 
 ' Some weeks ago,' she replied, l Antone brought 
 to me a bunch of lovely violets, such as never grow 
 in Colombo, but, I have heard, are reared in Newera 
 Elliya, and this case with it. He said the gentle- 
 man had sent them — the one I met in your house — 
 Mr Gray. I did not know what I was to do. My 
 father and mother would not wish me to take the 
 gift ; and yet it is a symbol of faith, and I thought 
 it had a divine meaning. I could not bring my- 
 self to send it back, and so the possession of it has 
 been a secret. It seemed to be no more than a 
 token of goodwill from him ; so I have kept it, 
 and when I sleep by night it is fastened round my 
 neck. Perhaps it is better for it not to be in the 
 picture, but I cherish it. I had no means of speak- 
 ing my thanks. Should you ever be able to say 
 so much for me, will you tell him Kirimanica is 
 grateful ? ' 
 
 ' 1 will, my child, you may depend upon it. I 
 think you may safely keep his present. He is a 
 good man, and it comes from a talk we had about 
 you one day.' 
 
 The articles were reverentially restored to the 
 case, and put away. 
 
 The girl said her good-bye, for she was going 
 away, for perhaps a month, with her parents to 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 135 
 
 Matila to stay with the Ratemahatmya at Maha- 
 ganga Walawa, in order to keep the festival of 
 the Wesak, or birth of Buddha. 
 
 Helen felt her loneliness more than ever. Did 
 she go to the usual society resorts, she was con- 
 scious of a coolness which people wore towards 
 her, which seemed to evidence their knowledge 
 that something was wrong at Lotus Hall. Many 
 of them, however, overcame their scruples when a 
 dinner-party was given by the Agnews, for the 
 menu and the wines were both choice ; besides 
 which, he was rich, and held a prominent place in 
 the mercantile world. Helen received sufficient 
 attention on these occasions, but was sensible that 
 she had no real friends. 
 
 One afternoon Mrs Airlie was announced. Mrs 
 Agnew was half inclined not to receive her, for 
 she was always now associated in her mind with 
 that unfortunate night at Ambalangoda, the re- 
 collection of which was so bitter. On second 
 thoughts she decided to see Mrs Airlie, for she 
 felt that she ought to speak plainly to her. The 
 reception on her part was not very cordial. When 
 they were seated, and tea was brought, Helen 
 remarked, — 
 
 ' I thought, Mrs Airlie, that you would have 
 thought it necessary to make some sort of apology 
 for leaving me alone, without your society, which 
 was so essential, on the day which you yourself 
 appointed for that trip to Ambalangoda.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! I had hoped that my telegram was 
 sufficient.' 
 
 1 I must tell you plainly that I did not think it 
 so. Your absence put me in a painful position, 
 and if we are to remain friends, I must have your 
 
1 36 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 assurance that you were quite undesignedly pre- 
 vented from coming.' 
 
 Here Helen caught the eye of the other and 
 looked at her so pointedly that Mrs Airlie became 
 quite red and uncomfortable. She answered, — 
 
 1 With you I must be frank. I trust you, and I 
 value your friendship. I purposely stayed away 
 and went in another direction. Let me say that 
 I thought, Mrs Agnew, that you would not be 
 averse to a tcte-a-tcte with your own particular 
 friend.' 
 
 In saying which she looked full at the other 
 lady. It was Mrs Agnew's turn to feel uncomfort- 
 able, but for a moment only, for she had tried to 
 do rightly. She replied, — 
 
 ' You are mistaken. I should never have planned 
 to put myself in a position subject naturally to 
 misconstruction, however much partiality for a 
 particular person might suggest it. I am sorry 
 that it all happened as it did. Since that day I 
 have been rendered less inclined for your society, 
 and I will tell you frankly that things are said 
 about you in Colombo which you would regret to 
 hear, which are doubtless coloured by other ladies, 
 but which account for the coolness which I dare- 
 say you have experienced.' 
 
 The visitor's hand, which held a cup of tea, 
 trembled visibly, and she flushed all over. She 
 suppressed her anger, and said, hurriedly and 
 vehemently, — 
 
 ' Surely you do not mean to say that you believe 
 the mean and lying words that are bandied about 
 at tea and tennis-parties to my discredit? I 
 thought that your judgment would, at least, have 
 been true and unbiased. I have tried to know you 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 137 
 
 well, because you always seemed so candid and so 
 kind of heart, so lovely and so gentle. Believe 
 me, I pray — I beseech you ! To you I will say 
 what I would not to any other living creature, 
 and what no force would wring from me. I have 
 long, as it were, lost my husband, knowing not his 
 caresses nor his sympathy. When others have 
 admired me I have accepted it, and when they 
 have sought my society I have encouraged them ; 
 but I swear to you, before heaven, that I have 
 never been untrue, in the sense you imply, to my 
 husband. Say that you believe me, for pity's 
 sake, and do not cast me off — one who has not a 
 true friend in the world ! ' 
 
 She was on her knees before Helen, and had 
 clasped one of her hands between her own, and 
 Helen could feel the tears dropping. She answered, 
 feeling deeply touched, — 
 
 'You have said enough. I believe you. I will 
 be your friend if you will do one thing for me.' 
 
 1 What is that ? ' 
 
 ' Try to be reconciled to your husband, and to 
 live for him for one year.' 
 
 Mrs Airlie rose, wiped her eyes, and walked to 
 the window. She gazed for some minutes upon 
 the lotus blossoms in the pond, now folding their 
 petals at the approach of evening, then turned, and 
 coming to Helen, took both her hands and pressed 
 them, kissed her on both cheeks, and said, — 
 
 ' I promise. But let me tell you something of 
 my life, that you may not think I am altogether 
 bad.' They sat down again to tea, and Mrs Airlie 
 continued, — ' I have been married only three years. 
 I was nineteen when it took place. My father was 
 a clergyman, and there are a lot of us, which made 
 
i 3 8 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 matters very cramped at home. We used to try 
 to help father as much as possible. I always used 
 to think he felt us all to be a great burden, and 
 determined myself to be off at the first opportunity. 
 It came one day in the shape of my husband, who 
 was then on leave from Ceylon, and staying with 
 some neighbours of ours near the village for shoot- 
 ing. When he asked me, within a month of our 
 meeting, to marry him, I did not think twice. He 
 was a nice fellow, good-looking, and not too old, 
 and he said that he had enough for us to live upon. 
 And then the prospect of going to Ceylon was 
 delightful. I had always heard that life in the 
 East had no cares, was made up of dances, sky 
 races, tennis and picnics, and that women were at 
 a premium ; just the thing for a poor parson's 
 daughter. So we came out together, and have 
 been in Colombo ever since. You know Jack is 
 " in tea " here. I did my best to do what I pro- 
 mised before the altar ; but, I think, after a year 
 Jack got thoroughly tired of the whole thing. He 
 was awfully nice at first. Nothing was good 
 enough for me, and he never left me. But I was 
 a novelty, that was all, and an attractive one, for I 
 am pretty, I believe, and have good " points," as he 
 used to say when he " viewed " me. Soon I began 
 to realise that he did not care what became of me. 
 I seemed to have been enjoyed to the full and then 
 flung aside. He took to going to the club at nights, 
 and I often sat up late for his return ; but he re- 
 garded that as no favour, and even thought it a 
 bore when I used to ask what luck he had had. 
 Then he would go away for a week at a time to 
 some estate up-country, and come back, in a sur- 
 prise sort of way, without giving me word. Do 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 139 
 
 you wonder at my forming friendships with other 
 people who showed themselves more attentive than 
 my husband ? I am a half-educated, frivolous girl, 
 who has no resources in herself, can play a tune 
 upon the piano, dance, ride, and read a novel, but 
 who cannot think connectedly for two minutes, and 
 positively go to sleep in five if I take up a serious 
 book.' 
 
 Helen had listened attentively, and could not 
 help feeling how parallel, in some particulars, the 
 speaker's story was with her own. She almost 
 seemed presumptuous in attempting to guide an- 
 other who had acted very like she had herself done. 
 But it ought to be done, so she said, — 
 
 ' Most of us, when we marry, enter upon respon- 
 sibilities which we have never realised fully before- 
 hand ; we decide often in too much haste. Most 
 marriages are ill-assorted, and preserved from being 
 absolute failures by the common sense of both par- 
 ties, who see that it is absurd to attempt to review 
 their relations when bound together by law. They 
 do, in fact, make the best of what they cannot undo. 
 I do not know whether most men ever feel that they 
 are disappointed, but I am sure that most women 
 do, because they expect too much. 
 
 1 " Man's love is of his life a thing apart ; 
 'Tis a woman's whole existence." 
 
 The most supreme moment of happiness in a 
 woman's life is that, I am told, in which she holds 
 her first baby to her bosom, and I believe this often 
 compensates for much pain that is felt in the 
 weakening of a husband's love. You and I have 
 no such consolation ; but we have a duty before us. 
 
i 4 o A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 That is, to relax in no effort to keep the love that 
 we have once won. I bid you go and try, and 
 bring to the effort all the earnestness you can.' 
 
 Although Helen had communicated none of the 
 secrets of her own life, for to most people she dis- 
 played reserve in such matters, yet a spring of 
 silent sympathy had sprung up between the two 
 women which revealed more than words could ; and 
 now the rose colour which tinted the room and all 
 within as the setting sun shone through the win- 
 dows seemed, in some sense, to be an augury of 
 brighter thoughts and brighter days than the future 
 had appeared before to promise. 
 
 Their conversation was terminated by the arrival 
 of a servant with letters by the English mail, and 
 Mrs Airlie, remarking that she was sure that her 
 friend would like to be left alone with her corre- 
 spondence, took her leave warmly. 
 
 Among the letters was one from Caselli. He 
 wrote with all the gladness of a child to announce 
 that he was free for a few months, and had decided 
 to come to Ceylon and to pay the Agnews his 
 promised visit. At the first perusal, for Helen, there 
 was nothing but a feeling of delight. To see him 
 once more — the being, she thought, whom she most 
 revered and loved in the world — to renew with 
 him her early life and all its memories, and to 
 witness his pleasure in doing the same; his happi- 
 ness in seeing her in her own home, in her married 
 life. Ah, there ! That was the one thing she could 
 not wish him to see ! How different it was from 
 that which they had all anticipated it would be ! 
 What could be done to restore harmony before 
 he would arrive ? For a month now she had striven 
 to win back her husband's regard by every gentle 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 141 
 
 look and word that she could conjure up. But he 
 was still implacable. They met only at meals, and, 
 to save appearances before the servants, he would 
 then pass a few remarks upon general topics of the 
 day. But his coolness towards her was studied and 
 unvarying. 
 
 This evening, after long pondering, she decided 
 that she would seek her husband, even at the sacri- 
 fice of some self-respect, and at the hazard of fresh 
 repulse — that she would seek him with her father's 
 letter in her hand, and make that a plea for a 
 complete reconciliation. 
 
 Mrs Agnew called her maid, and, with her assist- 
 ance, dressed with more than usual care. A cos- 
 tume was selected very similar in colour and 
 trimming to the very one she had worn at Heath 
 Lodge when she had summoned George to hear 
 the reply to his proposal, and her hair was arranged 
 this evening in the style that he had then admired. 
 She regarded herself in the glass when ready. She 
 might have been the same Helen as left her home 
 in Hampstead two years ago. The beauty and 
 purity of face still remained, and the rounded and 
 well-moulded bust and arms, and the texture of 
 skin like satin ; but the lines under the violet eyes 
 were rather darker than of yore, and the corners of 
 the delicate mouth were accentuated. She was 
 pleased, like all women, to think that she yet could 
 charm, and saw no degeneracy in her looks such as 
 the Tropics so often hasten. 
 
 For a long time she hesitated how to approach 
 her husband, with what words and in what manner 
 To tell the truth, her sensitive nature feared an- 
 other repulse, worse, perhaps, than others which 
 had preceded it. And then she feared that it 
 
142 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 might be followed by a more prolonged and com- 
 plete estrangement. Helen decided at length to 
 trust to chance and to the circumstances of the 
 moment for what she might be prompted to 
 say. 
 
 It was with a slow step and a timid one that she 
 proceeded to her husband's study. The door was 
 nearly closed, and she thought that it would be as 
 well to knock. His voice replied, ' Come in.' 
 
 He looked up, surprised at his wife's entrance. 
 The only light was that of a reading-lamp upon 
 the table, which illuminated the papers and books 
 below it, but left the rest of the room in obscurity. 
 They could not see each other distinctly. There 
 was a weariness in his tones which told of dejec- 
 tion, evidenced also by the deepening lines upon 
 his face. Since the scene with Helen, upon her 
 return from Ambalangoda, all the brightness seemed 
 to have gone out of his life. 
 
 She advanced to his side and put her hand upon 
 his shoulder, as had been her wont, and said, — 
 
 'George, I have had a letter from my father by 
 the mail this evening, in which he says that he 
 hopes shortly to be with us. Will you read it ? ' 
 
 She laid it before him and he perused it several 
 times, striving to gain time before comment should 
 be necessary. It was she who recommenced. 
 
 ' You would like him to have a happy time here, 
 I am sure, would you not ? such as he anticipates. 
 How is he to find us ? Oh, George, I am pained 
 to the heart to think that he should know what 
 has passed ! ' She knelt by his side and put her 
 two hands on his arm. ' Will you not try that 
 we shall be as we once were — when we left Heath 
 Lodge ? Darling husband, look upon the wife who 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 143 
 
 loves you better than all the world, and take her 
 back to your heart.' 
 
 By chance, that day — or was it pre-ordained ? — 
 the books and papers upon his table had been re- 
 arranged and dusted, and upon the top of all, at 
 his right hand, had presented itself an old Bible 
 which had once been his mother's. A faded 
 marker, undisturbed for many years, pointed to 
 the words, ' Be ye therefore merciful as your 
 Father also is merciful. Judge not and ye shall 
 not be judged.' He had been curiously turning 
 over the leaves shortly before his wife's entrance. 
 The book was not often opened, and mere chance, 
 it then seemed, had obtruded the marker upon his 
 attention. The words had never appeared so vivid. 
 He knew that he had been wrong all these weeks 
 in shutting up his sympathy from his wife — a mere 
 child in worldly experience ; that he was going 
 the way to break her heart, and perhaps to drive 
 her to the worst fate in which a woman can be 
 involved. His pride had been the insuperable 
 obstacle. At this moment, as she knelt by him 
 and turned upon him those pleading eyes full of 
 unfathomable feeling, he would have none of it, 
 and he conquered it. 
 
 Agnew stooped and lifted his wife on to his 
 knee and clasped her in a tight embrace, kissing 
 her eyes and cheeks and lips as he used to do. 
 He exclaimed, — 
 
 1 You have come back to me this evening, looking, 
 dearest, like my promised wife on that well-remem- 
 bered evening in Hampstead. I have been wrong. 
 I see it and know it. It was I who left you alone 
 and unguided to fall into temptation, and it is I 
 own who ask your forgiveness. Let us start 
 
i 4 4 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 afresh to love and to cherish one another till 
 death us do part, and may no more clouds come 
 over the sunshine of our existence.' 
 
 ' Husband, darling/ she said, ' I am indeed a 
 happy wife once more, but it is not you alone 
 who have been wrong. I was giddy and unthink- 
 ing, perhaps vain, and have brought this trouble 
 upon us. Help me in my ignorance, and let me 
 lie here often, where I seem to feel your love and 
 to gain the strength I lack. It seems as if we 
 had passed through some dreadful storm in which 
 we had been separated, but now the sun shines 
 again, and we are sailing in smooth waters. 
 Let us forget the past month, or try to do 
 so.' 
 
 They remained silent while the peace was ratified 
 by a thousand caresses. 
 
 Before they left the room Helen noticed, with 
 surprise, the open Bible upon the table, and, draw- 
 ing it towards her, saw the faded marker worked 
 by hands long since lifeless. Agnew aided her to 
 find the place indicated and put his finger upon 
 the lines. He said, — 
 
 ' I was reading these just before you came into 
 the room, dearest of my heart ! ' 
 
 She perused them with interest, looked up with 
 quick perception, and kissed him. 
 
 The book after this used to lie upon her boudoir 
 table, and she often read from it, and he, too. 
 
 The dinner was quite a gay affair, and the 
 altered circumstances of the household were re- 
 flected even in the faces of the servants, who had 
 for weeks past been conscious of the gloom which 
 reigned around, and after dinner there was music 
 and song, such as cheered the heart as of yore 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 145 
 
 under the cedars and among the rose bushes of 
 Caselli's villa. 
 
 Yet another strange incident was to occur to- 
 night. 
 
 Husband and wife were sitting in his study, talk- 
 ing over matters long pent up, and happy in the 
 sunshine of awakened love, when a servant entered, 
 bearing a card upon a salver. Agnew was sur- 
 prised at an intrusion, even by a friend, at ten 
 o'clock at night, and little less than thunderstruck 
 when he read the superscription on the card : — 
 
 Mr Harold Norton. 
 
 He could not refrain from starting, and felt him- 
 self aglow with passion and shame. He mastered 
 his feelings, however, and simply said to Helen, — 
 ' A visitor, dearest, upon business ; he will not be 
 long. You had better go to your boudoir mean- 
 time.' 
 
 She retreated, but in the half light in the hall 
 the figure standing at the front door seemed to be 
 familiar to her. 
 
 Norton was bidden to enter Agnew's study. 
 The latter leaned back in his easy-chair with an 
 arm on each side. The lamp, shaded as before, 
 did not throw a strong light upon the men's 
 faces. 
 
 Norton advanced half-way between the door 
 and the table, where Agnew sat, and halted, as 
 it were a criminal before his judge. His gaze 
 sank before Agnew's piercing glance. He was 
 the first to speak. He said, — 
 
 ' Agnew, I have come here, after my treacherous 
 conduct, to give you any satisfaction that you may 
 
 K 
 
i 4 6 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 wish to take. I attempted to do you a foul wrong. 
 
 I am repentant. If I could I would unsay what 
 
 has passed. Take your revenge in any way you 
 
 please; I offer no resistance.' 
 
 Agnew made no sign save to clutch the arms of 
 
 the chair with his hands. 
 Norton continued, — 
 ( You hate my presence, doubtless. I am about 
 
 to relieve you of it for ever. I have parted with 
 
 my estate and am on the eve of sailing for South 
 
 Africa, on my way to Blantyre.' 
 
 He waited awhile for Agnew's reply. There 
 
 was a painful pause of several minutes. At last 
 
 the latter spoke. 
 
 ' Sir, you have tried to do me the worst wrong 
 one man can do to another — to destroy his happi- 
 ness for life, and to tempt a woman, his wife, to 
 perdition. I can say nothing to you. I want no 
 words with you. Y 7 ou say that you are repentant ; 
 it may be so. God is the scrutineer of your heart ; 
 but you cannot suppose that I, another man, with 
 the infirmities of human nature, can believe what 
 you profess without proof of your sincerity. Leave 
 me, untouched and unhurt. Let me warn you that 
 remorse for the evil you would have compassed 
 will sting you for ever. 5 
 
 He waved his hand towards the door, rose from 
 his chair, and walked to the window. Norton 
 turned without more words, strode to the door, 
 and down the hall to his carriage. Before ascend- 
 ing, he cast one look back up the passage leading 
 to Helen's boudoir. She was on the point of 
 coming out ; a faint smile played about her lips, 
 and she made a slight sign with her hand which 
 seemed to signify ' Adieu.' 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 147 
 
 Norton said to himself, — 
 
 1 At least she has forgiven me.' 
 
 It was the last time they were to see each other, 
 and in her mind the memory of his ill-starred love 
 faded gradually away in the mists of the past. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 The Mahaganga Walawa was situated on the 
 slope of one of the charming hills that surround 
 Matila. The hoary tors of worn gneiss rose two 
 thousand feet above the valley behind the house, 
 and girdling the hills were masses of primeval 
 jungle. The forest almost reached to the back 
 of the Walawa, a spacious, red-tiled but unpre- 
 tentious house, with a number of barns and cattle- 
 sheds, all nestling in the shade of mighty tamarinds 
 and banyans. Down the slopes of the ravines, 
 which intersected the hills, were thick groves of 
 areca and cocoanut palms, with here and there a 
 patch of untouched nature in the shape of kum- 
 buk and palu trees, grey with age, and overgrown 
 with moss and orchids. The wild parts of the 
 estates served as pasture for cattle, while lower 
 down, in the well-watered valley, were wide acres 
 of carefully fenced in emerald green rice and luxuri- 
 ant plantains. Beyond again, bold and jagged hills 
 bounded the eastern horizon, and their peaks, 
 especially the giant Hunusgiriya, caught the clouds 
 as they drifted up from the south-west, and sent 
 their moisture trickling down in silver streams to 
 the fertile valley below. Mahaganga Walawa had 
 belonged to the Panabokki family for hundreds 
 of years, and the present owner, the Ratemahat- 
 mya, regarded his ancestry with pride, as a Kan- 
 
 148 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 149 
 
 dyan chief, and at the present time was a person of 
 considerable wealth and local influence. 
 
 At the season of the Wesak he was expected to 
 entertain largely. Relatives and dependents came 
 from all parts within a circuit of twenty or thirty 
 miles, and were accommodated in temporary huts 
 constructed of interwoven palm leaves and thatched 
 with grass. It was an animating sight. The front 
 of the house and of these structures were decorated 
 with plantain stems crowned with their shiny, deep 
 green leaves, mingled with palm fronds dexter- 
 ously cut into strips about as fine as hairs ; the 
 columns of the verandah were wound with long 
 wreaths of stag moss, while, for colour, there, here 
 and there, peeped out the red hibiscus and the 
 yellow alamander. A large arch of bamboos pro- 
 jected from the porch, was hung with foliage in 
 the same fashion, bore flags of various designs 
 on the spires, and by night displayed clusters 
 of coloured lamps. In a conspicuous place, 
 worked upon a cloth in bold letters, according 
 to the language of the country, were the words, 
 ' Welcome to all.' The noise of large and small 
 drums, and of reed instruments, was heard at in- 
 tervals all day, and only ceased at the hour of rest. 
 Troops of raucous crows, drawn by the unwonted 
 bustle and the abundant leavings of food that were 
 thrown away, fluttered about the buildings and the 
 neighbouring trees, helping to swell the din with 
 their hoarse cries, and occasionally making a bold 
 dash at the very dish from which a guest was feed- 
 ing. Even the lizards, which abound in the jungles, 
 watched from safe places of vantage, and with curi- 
 osity, the lively panorama, running back in haste 
 to their holes sometimes when anything unusually 
 
150 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 alarming came to view. Hungry dogs strolled up 
 from their village homes and stalked about the 
 outskirts, snarling betimes at each other, or, deeply 
 penetrated by some savoury odour, raising their 
 noses in the air, and howling in unison with the 
 music of the band. Patches of waste ground, 
 where rice had been thrown away, were lighted 
 up with the flashing colours — red, blue and yellow 
 — of magnificent butterflies, falling easy victims, 
 some of them, while intent upon feasting upon 
 the fermenting matter, to the children, who led 
 them captive with a piece of cotton secured under 
 the wings. Sparrows in numbers twittered upon 
 the roof or dusted themselves upon the carriage 
 drive, while grey squirrels chased each other, with 
 piercing shrieks, in and out of the masses of foliage 
 that were spread along the house front, and nibbled 
 at every tender bud or shoot that took their fancy. 
 The holiday was a happy one to the visitors. 
 The early rains from the south-west had com- 
 menced to fall in occasional showers, which suf- 
 ficed, with a gentle breeze, to cool the air. The 
 jungles and hedges were looking their best, decked 
 here and there with wild flowers. There were lots 
 of dishes prepared daily to flavour the masses of 
 rice boiled in immense brass cauldrons, and par- 
 taken of on platters of leaves, and eaten upon the 
 ground ; and the fact of feeding at the generous 
 Ratemahatmya's expense was in itself a source of 
 satisfaction to many. Others had a pleasure in 
 meeting with friends whom, from the remoteness 
 of their villages, they seldom saw, and the babble 
 sustained all day by the numbers who wanted to 
 talk at the same time almost drowned the noise of 
 the crows. All were in their best garments and 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 151 
 
 displaying rich jewellery, without which, in the 
 East, female charms are considered to be incom- 
 plete. The neat white jackets of the women, with 
 pretty lace trimming, with the wrapper of coloured 
 silk round the limbs from waist to ankle, set off 
 their forms to advantage, and the varied tints gave 
 to the crowd, viewed at a little distance, a kaleido- 
 scopic effect. 
 
 There was unlimited distribution of the much- 
 loved chewing materials — areca, lime, and the leaf 
 of the betel vine — and the red juice arising from 
 mastication was squirted freely around in the 
 intervals of conversation. The guests of consider- 
 ation were entertained in the Walawa, which had 
 a number of rooms, but which were furnished 
 rather scantily and shabbily with European furni- 
 ture. This was regarded as a sign of modern 
 progress, and of familiarity with Colombo fashions. 
 But neither the taste of the Ratemahatmya nor 
 that of his wife could suggest for ornamentation 
 more than a few mirrors and cut-glass chandeliers 
 for the decoration of the reception-rooms. Wines 
 and imported foods largely composed the repasts 
 indoors, and the table round which the guests sat 
 was loaded with fruit and flowers. 
 
 The Panabokki family were among the most 
 welcome guests, partly from their near relationship 
 to the host, and partly from the fact that the 
 daughter had for long been looked upon by the 
 heads of both families as the destined bride of 
 the Ratemahatmya's son, Rambanda. He was a 
 fine, stalwart specimen of a Kandyan, and wore 
 an imposing beard and moustaches. He had 
 accustomed himself from his boyhood to regard 
 Kirimanica as his own, and on this occasion had 
 
152 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 hoped to bring the question of their union to an 
 issue. He went himself to meet the party at the 
 railway station, and deferentially helped the girl 
 out of the train, giving her some of the well- 
 remembered flowers that they used to sport with 
 and throw at each other in their childhood. As 
 they trotted in a capacious bullock-coach, behind 
 a fine pair of milk-white animals with their jingling 
 bells, up to the Walawa, he felt pleased to see 
 the girl's interested looks, and her childish glee in 
 the once familiar surroundings. She had, too, 
 many a kindly glance for him, although feeling 
 but a sisterly affection for the lad who had been 
 the constant companion of early days. 
 
 When the party arrived at their destination 
 there was a great demonstration. The drums and 
 pipes almost drowned the voices of the guests and 
 their hosts ; flowers were strewn upon the pathway 
 and under the porch ; and jets of rosewater, from 
 long silver ewers with narrow orifices, were directed 
 to the new arrivals, especially to Kirimanica, and 
 the oldest servant of the Ratemahatmya's estab- 
 lishment stepped forward and threw a garland of 
 white jasmine round her neck. It had somehow 
 got about among the retainers and visitors that the 
 girl was the destined bride of Rambanda. His 
 father came forward and patted her upon the 
 head, and asked her smilingly if she had now 
 come to stay with them for good. He added 
 that Rambanda was expectant, and had waited 
 patiently. 
 
 Kirimanica felt herself getting warm with em- 
 barrassment, and could find no words with which to 
 express herself. But in her mind she determined 
 that very day to put an end to the anticipations of 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 153 
 
 all parties, painful though it might be. Ever since 
 that evening when Charles Gray had been brought 
 into their house, a change had set in. Even before 
 that she had not cared to regard Rambanda in the 
 light of a future husband. The rapid development 
 of her ideas under the influence of education, the 
 daily widening vista of life which knowledge had 
 opened out before her, and the habit of introspec- 
 tion which it had cultivated, all disinclined her for 
 the inevitable monotony, the unquestioning sub- 
 mission, and the drudgery of domestic life at 
 the Mahaganga Walawa, in which, indeed, her 
 freedom would be wholly curtailed. 
 
 Rambanda was a good, honest, brave and manly 
 fellow, but he was unimaginative and unimpres- 
 sionable, and his whole thought was in the perpetu- 
 ation of the farming operations on the estates by 
 the identical methods pursued by his forefathers 
 for two thousand years. The idea of marrying 
 Kirimanica had become with him a fixed one. It 
 had always been encouraged in the family, and 
 frequently referred to from their childhood. He 
 did not know how he had been eclipsed by another, 
 nor how the adoption by the girl of the Christian 
 faith had inspired her with an individual freedom 
 and a fixity of purpose which she had not before 
 possessed. 
 
 They all sat down that morning to a splendid 
 breakfast, rendered the more luxurious by the 
 magnificent prospect viewed from the windows. 
 The verdant valley with the silver stream lying in 
 bands and loops, as it were, upon the bright green 
 vestment of young rice, which at this season 
 clothed the soil ; the masses of wild hills that rose 
 beyond, some dark, in purple shades, obscured by 
 
154 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 rolling clouds of white vapour rising from the 
 ravines which intersected them, others receiving 
 the full sunshine, and presenting various tints upon 
 their rugged slopes where forest or grassland or 
 patches of tea prevailed. And then, close at 
 hand, a wealth of flowers — the blue and white 
 convolvuli, bushes laden with gorgeous red shoe 
 flowers, and clusters of fragrant oleander. 
 
 The meal over, those who cared to do so sought 
 repose, and others wandered outside to speak to 
 the people, or the men to smoke. Kirimanica 
 sighed for the days when she ran about half- 
 clothed after the butterflies, or paddled in the 
 stream, or gambolled with the kids and calves in 
 the scrub jungle of the mountain. Now she was 
 expected to be sedate, to look for the most part 
 upon the ground, to move about at a slow pace, 
 and only to speak when addressed. She fretted 
 under these restraints. To-day she thought that 
 she would like to mount the slope above the house, 
 and, seated at the verge of the forest, enjoy the 
 view of distant Matila and the bold peak of 
 Hunusgiriya which she had always loved. So 
 several attendants were told off to accompany her, 
 and Rambanda naturally escorted her. The path 
 was mostly in forest shade, but at the desired spot 
 it opened out, and some well-worn boulders pro- 
 jecting through the ground afforded convenient 
 sitting-places. 
 
 The girl and her lover sat down, and the ser- 
 vants respectfully withdrew. Rambanda was of 
 few words, and, although struggling to speak, 
 found it difficult to express himself. For a time 
 he contented himself with concentrating his gaze 
 upon the girl. He had, he thought, never seen any 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 155 
 
 so beautiful, and her graces, polished by town life, 
 p-ave her additional charm. It was true that her 
 
 o 
 
 accomplishments made her rather alarming to 
 him. 
 
 Of his studies at the Buddhist Boys' School in 
 Matila, Rambanda scarcely remembered more than 
 to read and write. At the same time, to a man's 
 sense, her cultivation, which had brought her so 
 much refinement, made her the more worth court- 
 ing and possessing. 
 
 Kirimanica would rather have been alone. She 
 felt embarrassed by her cousin's presence, having a 
 feeling that a particular object had led him there. 
 She busied herself in weaving a chaplet of white 
 convolvulus, which struggled over the jungle within 
 reach. 
 
 At last Rambanda spoke. 
 
 'Kirimanica, you do not say much to me. If 
 you knew how daily and nightly I think of you, 
 you would be kinder. Years ago, when we ran 
 about these fields together, and played hide-and- 
 seek down in the areca grove, you used to call me 
 "your husband," and you said you would never 
 marry another. Now, all that was so kind and 
 loving seems to have gone out from you. You 
 seem grave, and the smile that always played upon 
 your face rarely comes.' 
 
 She felt forced to say something, and if it were 
 to be disagreeable she could not help herself. 
 
 1 My dear brother, I have you always in my 
 affection. How could I forget him with whom I 
 have been playmate and sister ever since I could 
 walk? — one with whom I have shared joys and 
 sorrows? But you must not think that any girl 
 can abide the same from infancy to womanhood. 
 
156 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 I like you, love you, as ever, only as my brother. 
 But I can never marry you ! ' 
 
 She had turned to face him, gazed with her 
 dark velvety eyes filled with teais straight into his, 
 and had placed her hand upon his arm, knowing 
 assuredly what a cruel disappointment he was to 
 feel. He had looked at her once as she finished 
 speaking,and then fixed his eyes in a moody manner 
 upon the ground. In a few minutes he roused him- 
 self, and drew a packet from his pocket. It was 
 wrapped in red silk, and upon withdrawing the 
 cover he revealed a magnificent gold necklace of 
 vine leaves, each of which was studded and worked 
 in graceful design with sapphires, rubies, aqua- 
 marine, garnets, and other gems of Ceylon, by the 
 matchless art of the native jeweller. It was fit for 
 a princess. He held it pendant from his fingers 
 towards the girl, and said, — 
 
 ' I have had no pleasures. For the past two 
 years I have set myself to get this for you. It 
 is my share of the profits of the estates. I thought 
 to-day I should have clasped it on your neck, in 
 token that you were to be my love — my life ! 
 It seems it cannot be, but perhaps you will wear 
 it in remembrance of one who loves you better 
 than all.' 
 
 The incident was so painful to the sensitive girl 
 that she placed her hands to her face, stooped, and 
 wept. She almost felt constrained to give way 
 and to recall her words, and thus play the unselfish 
 part ; but she felt the pressure of the gold cross in 
 her bosom, and her resolve was strengthened. 
 
 ' I cannot, dear brother/ she said. ' I should 
 despise myself in doing so, but I feel how kind 
 your thought has been. I am truly grateful for 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 157 
 
 your affection, but the jewels must rest one day 
 upon the neck of one who is your own — one who 
 will be more worthy than I, and whom you will 
 find if you seek, I am sure. Now, let us return. 
 I am sorry for this day, and yet it is right that 
 I spoke.' 
 
 He rose in silence, tied up the necklace in 
 the silk wrapper, and put it away. As they left 
 the spot he felt for her little soft hand, and 
 retaining it in his grasp for a moment, gently 
 pressed and released it. It was the last time he 
 was with her. 
 
 It was on the night of this day that the great 
 festival of the Wesak was kept throughout Buddhist 
 Ceylon. Especially in the Kandyan villages was 
 it observed with display. 
 
 There would be a great procession through the 
 streets of Matila. The Ratemahatmya had, as 
 usual, lent his four elephants — one a noble tusker — 
 which were trapped with cloths and head-pieces of 
 scarlet and silver, and bore upon their ample backs 
 canopies and domes in colours to contain images 
 of the Lord Buddha in silver and brass. Then 
 there were cars, decorated with flowers, whose 
 panels outwardly represented, in vivid tints, scenes 
 in the Holy One's life. Ahead of the procession, 
 and at intervals along the line, were groups of 
 torch-bearers, and of musicians using lustily 
 their reed instruments and kettledrums. Here 
 and there clusters of dancers and singers, and, 
 marching in rear, clothed in white, the venerable 
 custodian of the Alu Vihara Temple, whither 
 the procession was bound, and following, a stream 
 of people carrying banners of their own device, 
 mostly of red and white calico ; some on two 
 
158 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 poles extending across the road, decorated with 
 moss and palms, and lighted with coloured lamps. 
 It was a grand affair, and one in which high and 
 low, rich and poor, were equally interested, and 
 at which the smallest children were allowed to 
 assist until midnight. 
 
 The Ratemahatmya and his party viewed the 
 long procession as it passed after dark along the 
 road which partly bounded his wide lands. There 
 were a few police about, but everyone was so 
 good-tempered and accommodating that there was 
 little necessity for enforcing order, and their 
 presence was scarcely wanted. 
 
 As Kirimanica looked out of the window of 
 the spacious bullock coach in which she sat, she 
 suddenly saw pass Mr Gray, who, as the chief 
 official at Matila, had ridden down to see that 
 all was well. He did not recognise her in the 
 crowd. She felt as if she quite glowed, and in- 
 voluntarily clasped the gold cross within her 
 silk vest. She was glad that in the interior 
 of the carriage, where all was dark, the others 
 could not observe her. He had occupied her 
 thoughts much since their last meeting at Mrs 
 Agnew's, and she scarcely could suppose that 
 chance would bring them together again. It 
 was sad, but what could he want with a humble 
 and obscure little Singhalese girl ? Perhaps she 
 was already wholly forgotten. Still, he afforded 
 her an ideal — something which every man and 
 woman must have — an ideal of consciousness of 
 physical and intellectual power, of refined re- 
 serve, of undaunted courage, yet of kindliness 
 and gentleness, which called forth in the girl 
 something more than admiration. 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 159 
 
 An immense crowd was gathered in the vicinity of 
 the temple, seeking entrance by the narrow paths 
 and roughly-hewn steps that led up the slope on 
 which it is situated. The cavern in which lies the 
 recumbent figure of Buddha is in one of the two 
 gigantic rocks, which, rising perpendicularly, face 
 each other, and leave but a small space for the con- 
 gregation. To-night, oil lamps were disposed, row 
 upon row, round the rocks and along the sides 
 of the approaches, and numbers of flags waved 
 in the mountain breeze. Masses of flowers had 
 been flung by devotees in front of the Buddha, 
 and the fragrance of these, with the odour of 
 incense, mingled in a peculiar way with the 
 pungent smell of a thousand bats, who found the 
 rocks a convenient habitat. 
 
 A money-box was placed in a prominent place ; 
 as also a large receptacle to receive small offerings 
 of oil for maintaining lights in the temple. Those 
 who were too poor to give the money, poured 
 in a small quantity of oil. But there were many 
 well-to-do people who contributed plenty of rupees, 
 and the custodian of the temple regarded the 
 weighty box with much satisfaction. 
 
 Even the poor monks attached to the Alu 
 Vihara felt more than usually comfortable to- 
 day, for the religious enthusiasm of the villagers 
 had been roused, and the tours of the monks with 
 their begging bowls, in search of food, in the 
 forenoon, had been more than usually successful. 
 They had, for once, been well fed, and, besides, 
 had received a quantity of areca and betel leaves, 
 which they had been chewing all day — not even 
 a monk being able to deny himself so grateful an 
 indulgence. 
 
i6o A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 Dharmaputa, the high priest, had come specially 
 to officiate at the temple to-night, and his dis- 
 course had commenced when the Ratemahatmya's 
 party arrived. A way was made in the narrow 
 court for the distinguished visitors, and they 
 were able, from where they sat, to get a good 
 view of the vividly-painted pictures of hell and 
 its various torments which adorn the exterior face 
 of the cavern. The colours had been recently 
 renewed, and were very vivid. Some victims 
 were being forced by demons to climb trees 
 bristling with sharp thorns ; others were being 
 thrown upon beds of upturned knives ; while 
 large beetles were busy in eating into the vitals 
 of a few. Flames of fire surrounded these graphic 
 scenes. It is apparent that, even in Buddhism, the 
 greater number must be frightened into being 
 moral. Might it be called necessary to the first 
 stage of religious belief? 
 
 Kirimanica found some interest in the discourse, 
 owing to the similarity in some of the events 
 related of Buddha to those of the life of Christ 
 which she had heard in the convent school. 
 
 Dharmaputa stood at the edge of the narrow 
 verandah or platform which led into the cavern 
 where the Lord Buddha lay undisturbed in his 
 long sleep, never, never to awake, nor to give his 
 disciples any sign of his existence, which had 
 practically ceased. The High Priest was a man 
 of unblemished life and of great learning, and 
 was attentively listened to by those within hear- 
 ing — perhaps three or four hundred. The rest, 
 numbering as many thousand, were sitting on 
 the ground on the hillsides around the Wihara, 
 where a multitude of lamps lit up the colours of 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 161 
 
 their variegated costumes. Dharmaputa had a 
 trace of bitterness in his tone, for he took no 
 satisfaction in the modern features of Buddhism. 
 The loose lives of some of the younger monks, and 
 their venal purposes, especially raised his ire ; the 
 idle, useless habits of others also ; and he saw a 
 declension in the morality of the mass, in the 
 laxity of the marriage tie, and in the use of 
 strong drink, which prompted violent crimes. 
 So, to-night, one of those occasions when he had 
 a large audience, he was very emphatic and 
 searching in his remarks. Kirimanica could not 
 help comparing him with St Paul. His excellent 
 memory enabled him to speak without reference 
 to the palm-leaf inscriptions, and his hands, thus 
 freed, were used to purpose in gesticulation. He 
 spoke first of the circumstances attending the 
 immaculate birth of Buddha, of the great re- 
 nunciation, of the miracles which showed his 
 title to their implicit confidence, of his moral 
 injunctions. Up to this he commanded close 
 attention, but in discussing the philosophical 
 aspects of the ' Eight-fold ' and the ' Four-fold ' 
 way of virtue he strode into depths to which his 
 hearers could not follow, and attention flagged ; 
 many nodded, or leant their heads upon the 
 shoulders of neighbours and slept. However, he 
 conscientiously kept them until midnight, when 
 a circle of yellow-robed monks, seated upon the 
 floor, in nasal, prolonged tones chanted praises 
 to Buddha. Now and then the crowd interposed, 
 'We will take refuge in the Lord Buddha.' 
 
 As the people rose to go, rockets shot up in 
 the air, breaking into blue, red and green stars, 
 and, in playfulness, crackers were fired off to 
 
 L 
 
i6 2 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 intimate that the serious part of the evening was 
 over. Dharmaputa mounted the summit of the 
 precipitous rock over the temple, to which access 
 could be had by holding to an iron rail. From 
 the top he could view the rolling hills and deeply- 
 cut valleys of Matila and Kandy. The golden 
 moonlight threw a veil of chastity over the scene. 
 All was peace; the streams of lights revealed 
 the retreating devotees wearily departing home- 
 wards. 
 
 He clasped his hands in front of him, saying, 
 1 Have they gone in peace ? I fear not ! For 
 sixty years this wretched being has been seeking 
 for it and has failed. Only beyond the grave, 
 and then uncertain ! ' The night breeze blew 
 chill, and he drew his robe tightly round him as 
 he descended, and by the light of a solitary oil- 
 lamp threw himself upon a mat, to spend part of 
 the night in repose. 
 
 The Ratemahatmya's trotting bulls swung along 
 at a good pace, and in half an hour they were 
 at the gates of the long approach to the house. 
 
 Kirimanica, who was next her mother, whis- 
 pered, — 
 
 1 Dharmaputa, Terunanse, tells us not of peace 
 until after many lives. You know better than I 
 do, mother ; can you find no peace here ? ' 
 
 The mother said, — 
 
 1 Daughter, this is a life of trouble ; all the 
 misdeeds of the past must be redeemed, and who 
 knows what past each has had ? Hope, but strive 
 always. Be virtuous, be kind to all. Perhaps 
 you will pass hence to a better life.' 
 
 The girl sighed to herself to think of the shreds 
 of comfort possessed by the elder woman. ' Was 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 163 
 
 that all, then ? The great renunciation might have 
 meant much more, but was never taught to imply 
 sacrificial efficacy. Christ's mission was com- 
 plete, and the prayer to God which he had taught 
 lifted her, she knew, to the atmosphere of faith. 
 Perhaps Buddha never prayed ! That was a 
 curious reflection.' 
 
 Everyone in the coach was silent as the vehicle 
 went slowly up the steep ascent to the Walawa. 
 Suddenly the sound of a shot broke the stillness 
 of the night, and echoed from a hundred hills. 
 The bitterns roosting on the kumbuk trees raised 
 a chorus of hoarse croaks, several owls flew from 
 their leafy shelters into the moonlight, seeking 
 some less dangerous resort, and a flock of flying 
 foxes left their favourite guava trees and hovered 
 lazily overhead until all should be again quiet. 
 
 ' That shot sounds near,' said the Ratema- 
 hatmya ; ( most likely it is Rambanda after the 
 wild pig. They have been doing a deal of 
 damage among the young paddy lately. He is 
 a good son. Nothing is forgotten, and I feel it a 
 comfort that the estates and rank of my fathers 
 will be in the keeping of one who is so worthy. 
 Would that he had a wife meet for him, and that 
 I might look upon his children.' 
 
 Here he extended his hand and took that of 
 Kirimanica. She understood the suggestion, and 
 involuntarily withheld hers, but for a moment 
 only. The venerable old man was so kind and 
 generous that she had not the heart to pain him. 
 But she was truthful, and she recoiled from seem- 
 ing in any way to encourage a false impression. 
 The darkness lent her courage, and she deter- 
 mined then and there, before her parents, to 
 
164 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 make her uncle aware of her resolve. She 
 said, — 
 
 1 Dear uncle, you have been to me from child- 
 hood almost like my father, and I fear to pain 
 you. Yet I must be true and release you from 
 doubt. Since my parents have given me choice, 
 I have thought often what I would do. And now 
 I must tell you that I can never marry Rambanda, 
 who yet will ever be like a brother to me. I am 
 sorry, for you wished it. But I could not love 
 him as a wife should. Most girls would have no 
 voice in this, but my beloved father and mother 
 have given me what others lack — freedom. 
 Forgive me for the pain I shall cause.' 
 
 Panabokki here interposed, saying, — 
 
 ' To-night, child, you are tired ; another time 
 things will look different. You must make allow- 
 ance for the caprice of one so young/ addressing 
 the Ratemahatmya ; ' she will change yet, no 
 doubt. Modern ways of education put strange 
 ideas into the heads of these children. She 
 knows little yet, brother. A year, it may be, or 
 two years, will work a different frame of mind, 
 and you may yet see the union you have always 
 wished for.' 
 
 The Ratemahatmya concealed his disappoint- 
 ment, which he felt keenly, and at this juncture 
 they arrived at the house. It was blazing with 
 lights. Rows of little oil lamps in glasses out- 
 lined the exterior, and were hung in the trees 
 close to the Walawa; festoons of coloured lan- 
 terns bordered the garden, while the cut-glass 
 chandeliers in the interior were fully supplied 
 with wax tapers. 
 
 There were coffee, wine and sweet cakes for 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 165 
 
 those who cared for refreshments, of which some 
 of the guests partook. Outside, in a temporary 
 hall, built of palm leaves and bamboo, a stupen- 
 dous supper of curry and rice and sweetmeats had 
 been prepared for those visitors whose rank did 
 not entitle them to enter the house. They had 
 arrived in straggling parties from the Alu Vihara. 
 So it was very late when the last wrapped himself 
 like a mummy from head to foot in a sheet, and, 
 with a blessing on his lips for the Ratemahatmya, 
 sought repose on a bed of clean rice straw. 
 
 About that time Rambanda came back, put his 
 gun quietly on the rack, and, being in working 
 clothes, avoided the reception-room and went to 
 bed. One or two men who were with him, on 
 being asked what had detained them, kept an 
 unusual silence, ate their share of the repast and 
 retired. 
 
 Then all was still. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 As the pale light of early morn fell upon the 
 peak of Hunusgiriya, and the caw of the first 
 crow had hardly been heard at the Mahaganga 
 Walawa, the inhabitants were startled by the 
 approach of a squad of native police. The steady 
 tramp of their feet awoke the watchers who habitu- 
 ally lie round the outskirts of great men's houses. 
 Alarm and astonishment filled all who heard the 
 object of their coming. Perhaps there was some 
 indignation, too, for, in the native view, a chief may 
 commit unpunished almost all offences for which a 
 common man would suffer. The police had come 
 to arrest Rambanda. 
 
 It would seem that for some time past the 
 Ratemahatmya's boundary fence, away down in 
 the valley by the paddy field, had constantly 
 been damaged by a neighbour who held that his 
 own ground had been encroached upon. On the 
 preceding night the chief's son had taken it into 
 nis head to go down that way to endeavour him- 
 self to chastise the aggressor if he should meet 
 him. He was not in the mood for the religious 
 
 o 
 
 service at the Vihara. He was rather savage and 
 despondent at his repulse by Kirimanica. To 
 throw himself again in her society he had re- 
 solved not to do. His love would never again be 
 offered to her, perhaps to no woman. He did 
 not much care what became of himself. He sup- 
 
 166 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 167 
 
 posed he would remain on the estates to succeed 
 to their possession, but purposeless, and without 
 the interest he had had. In this mood he started 
 off with two servitors to patrol the boundary. 
 There was a moon, obscured occasionally by 
 clouds. The night was still, except for the bark 
 of a stag calling occasionally to the herd. But 
 as Rambanda and his men silently approached 
 the valley, above the murmur of the stream there 
 was audible the noise of breaking twigs and sticks, 
 and of subdued voices. They crept forward under 
 the shadow of the oleander bushes, and came thus 
 within view of the spot, where a party of men were 
 engaged in pulling down the fence. The chiefs 
 son was so roused that he forgot moderation. He 
 had intended that a good beating should be ad- 
 ministered, but having the loaded gun in his 
 hands, upon the impulse of the moment he raised 
 it and fired. It had a ball cartridge, and one of 
 the invading party fell back with a groan and a 
 crash into the weeds and brushwood. Rambanda 
 felt a chill penetrate him, and, in a moment, de- 
 plored his own impetuosity. He stepped forward 
 with his two men, in the full light of the moon, to 
 answer for his deed. But the other party, giving 
 him but a glance, made off with the wounded man 
 as quickly as they could, fearing a further attack. 
 His companions, knowing the gravity of the offence 
 as viewed by the modern Courts, were frightened 
 in the extreme, as they were likely to be regarded 
 as abettors. Rambanda reassured them, and told 
 them that the blame was upon him. No harm 
 should come to them. They restored so much of 
 the broken fence as they could, and returned, 
 silently and sorrowfully, to the Walawa. It was 
 
1 68 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 a bad business, they thought. More would be 
 heard of it. 
 
 It was the sound of Rambanda's gun which the 
 family, returning from the Alu Vihara, had heard 
 in the distance. 
 
 Just now the golden gleams of sunrise were 
 streaking the eastern sky, and all the household 
 were wide awake, for the bad news could not be 
 hushed. 
 
 The wounded man was believed to be dying, his 
 deposition had been taken by the only magistrate 
 in Matila — Mr Gray. He could say little. But the 
 police inquiry had elicited that the son of the 
 Ratemahatmya had emerged from the shade with 
 a gun in his hands immediately after the shot, and 
 the motive for shooting was apparent. 
 
 There was a warrant for the arrest of Rambanda, 
 and a demand for the gun. The discharged car- 
 tridge was in the barrel. 
 
 It was a terrible morning. In all the traditions 
 of the family, going back for hundreds of years, 
 no member had ever been known to be a criminal ; 
 its history had been one of an honourable and 
 respected race. The poor old father was almost 
 paralysed with anguish ; his son — his best beloved, 
 on whom all his hopes, his cherished plans, had 
 rested from childhood upwards, who seemed to be 
 intertwined with the very tendrils of his heart's 
 life — was he to be led away as a felon — like a 
 common marauder or thief? It was his first 
 impulse to urge Rambanda to fly. The dense 
 jungles would easily afford him concealment. 
 Then he remembered his trusted position ; the 
 honourable regard of the Government ; the up- 
 turned gaze of hundreds of dependents ; the keen 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 169 
 
 scrutiny of his friends — the neighbouring chiefs ; 
 and then he scorned the suggestion. No, the law 
 must be obeyed, be the issue what it may. He 
 turned to his own room and wept bitterly alone. 
 That over, he forced himself to be calm and to 
 face the people outside. Save his own relatives, 
 all the visitors were aware that their presence was 
 no longer, under the circumstances, desired, and 
 some were engaged in packing up, while others 
 stood in a crowd, silent, respectful and sympa- 
 thetic. Some shed natural tears, others ejaculated 
 in mournful tones. Most of them thought that 
 Rambanda had done no great harm in shooting a 
 common man who was caught in an unlawful act, 
 and felt that the judge would probably take that 
 view. But the present indignity was poignantly 
 grievous. 
 
 Kirimanica had heard the bad news from a 
 female attendant, and, with a loose silk robe 
 wrapped round her, was peeping through the 
 glass of an upper window, alarm and sorrow 
 depicted in her face. She felt in some measure 
 guilty for what had happened. He had, no doubt, 
 been angry and disappointed after his interview 
 with her, and, in that mood, had lost his usual 
 control. She was sensible that others who knew 
 would be tinctured with this notion, and she did 
 not like the idea of facing the family that morning. 
 One thing she could do. She would pray for the 
 unfortunate young man, and she knelt by the side 
 of her bed with the sincere conviction that there 
 was One who would hear her for Christ's sake. 
 
 The sound of a vehicle driving up to the door 
 made her start to her feet. The Ratemahatmya 
 had persuaded the police to drive the prisoner to 
 
1 7 o A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 Matila in a closed coach. The sergeant was 
 reluctant, but yielded to the persuasion of the 
 old man. The prisoner begged for one minute's 
 grace, and, turning to where his father stood, threw 
 his arms round his neck in an anguish of grief, and 
 burying his face in the old man's bosom, burst into 
 sobs which shook his whole frame. He had 
 realised that he was leaving his home and all he 
 loved, perhaps for ever. In the presence of so 
 many the Ratemahatmya steeled himself against 
 the emotion which almost overpowered him, but 
 placed his hands caressingly upon his son's head. 
 The light of his life was going. He knew it, and 
 there was no use in trying to deceive himself. 
 
 The prisoner was called peremptorily, and, tear- 
 ing himself away, leapt into the coach, followed by 
 the escort, and in a few minutes was out of sight 
 in the winding avenue. 
 
 The father waved his hand in farewell to the 
 sorrowing groups, and aching with a grief that the 
 loss of the nearest and dearest alone can engender, 
 he staggered to his room, where he secluded him- 
 self in the anticipation of the worst. 
 
 The domestics, speaking in whispers, busied 
 themselves in dismantling the flags, the flowers, 
 the coloured lights, and all that had yesterday 
 given brightness and cheerfulness to the holiday. 
 
 Kirimanica sought her mother's side and sat for 
 hours with her arms round her, unable to speak 
 her fears, but feeling for her sympathy, knowing 
 her, as all children do, to be the best friend the 
 world can give. At times the girl would ask her- 
 self, ' Could she do nothing to help Rambanda in 
 his fearful straits ? ' A plan presented itself, and 
 only one ; difficult — almost impossible to a young 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 171 
 
 maiden like herself, and one improbable of success. 
 The thought did violence to her modesty, and she 
 felt, as it crossed her mind, as if she coloured all 
 over. But it took possession of her, and she could 
 devise no other. It was constantly recurring to 
 her, and every time with more force, until she felt 
 as if, in answer to her prayers, she were receiving 
 a supernatural suggestion. It was her duty to try. 
 If she failed, it would be herself only that would 
 suffer. She determined to think well of it in the 
 night hours, and to endeavour to summon up that 
 courage which she would so much need for the 
 adventure. It was the most formidable enterprise 
 that in her youth and maidenhood she could 
 undertake, and wholly foreign to her habits, and 
 to the prejudices of her race. 
 
 The day of gloom and dispiritedness slowly 
 passed, and the inhabitants of the Walawa betook 
 themselves early to bed to seek, if possible, the 
 
 c Sweet sleep that knits the ravelled sleeve of care.' 
 
 Kirimanica was far from able to compose her- 
 self. After her hair had been arranged by an 
 attendant, and her toilet for the night was com- 
 pleted, she sat in her lace wrapper by the window 
 side gazing upon the moonlit hills, and planning 
 with herself the details of her scheme for the aid, 
 perhaps the release, of Rambanda. Sometimes she 
 faltered and would fain have abandoned the idea, 
 but the necessity for making an effort for one who 
 was like a brother to her came to mind to sustain 
 her nagging courage. The wail of a jackal came 
 upon the wind. It was like the cry of a lost soul, 
 and made her palpitate like a frightened child. 
 
172 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 She betook herself to her usual devotions, and, 
 feeling calmed and hopeful, stretched herself upon 
 the pretty carved couch with its inviting cushions 
 of silk-cotton collected in the forest. The balmy 
 scents of flowers that bordered on the house would 
 have lulled her to sleep under circumstances other 
 than the present, but to-night she was harassed 
 with apprehension for Rambanda, and fevered with 
 impatience to put her plan into execution, so that 
 several hours sped before she closed her eyes. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE sky had hardly whitened in the east, and the 
 bats were still in the air, when the girl leapt out of 
 bed and ran to the window. Morning had brought 
 more courage, and the apprehensions born of the 
 gloom of night had passed away. To-day she was 
 brave to do. But she would require an accomplice. 
 She opened the narrow casement filled with small 
 panes of glass in the Dutch style, and looked round 
 the broad lands of the head of her family, the heir 
 to which was most likely to be branded as a felon. 
 Her silk robe, parted at the neck, revealed the 
 graceful swell of her delicately-shaped bust, and 
 the slender gold chain, from which the golden 
 cross, hidden in her bosom, was suspended ; some 
 locks of her dark hair had fallen upon her 
 shoulders ; her eyes, in which the tears had started, 
 were raised to heaven, where the moon was still 
 asserting her splendour, and the dewy lips moved 
 in silent prayer. The picture might have been 
 one of a martyr rising to hail the morn of her 
 last day. And the girl felt the danger and diffi- 
 culty of her coming ordeal in somewhat the same 
 sense. 
 
 She was first awake, but shortly the cattle 
 emerged, driven out to the pastures high up on the 
 mountains by some small herd boys. She dressed 
 herself hurriedly, descended quietly, and strolled 
 in a careless way up and down the front of the 
 
 i73 
 
174 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 house. An old man, who was almost past work, 
 was diligently commencing his long day's task — 
 that of thatching one of the outhouses with grass. 
 She approached, and recognised in him an old 
 retainer, who often in her infancy had carried her, 
 when tired of sport, up the steep hills, or fetched 
 her blossoms that happened to be out of her 
 childish reach, or young birds from the nests in 
 the thorn brake. He smiled upon her as of yore, 
 and she, looking upon the rencontre as a good 
 omen, said, — 
 
 ' Bastian, I am glad to see you once again ; and 
 are you well ? ' 
 
 ' In seeing you, young lady, all the pains that an 
 old man feels have passed away ; your presence at 
 Mahaganga is like the sunshine. Would there 
 were not the one cloud that makes all dark for us 
 at this moment ! ' 
 
 ' Never despair, Bastian ; perhaps God will take 
 that away. Would you help Rambanda if you 
 could?' 
 
 ' That I would with my life ! ' and the faithful 
 creature passed the back of his withered hand 
 across his eyes. 
 
 1 It may be that you can. I have thought of 
 means to do so. I cannot tell you all, and they 
 must be kept secret from everyone. It is no un- 
 lawful way, nor one to bring dishonour in itself 
 upon the family, but it may seem strange to you. 
 Will you come with me to Matila to-night after 
 the house is quiet ? It will lead you to no harm, 
 and I myself seek only the release of Rambanda. 
 If I am successful all will again be happy. Even 
 if I fail you shall not be unrewarded.' 
 
 The old man was dumb with surprise at the idea 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 175 
 
 of a young maiden of this ancient house breaking 
 through the restraints imposed upon all her sex 
 high and low. And for what ? And yet he knew 
 her so well that the purpose, he was sure, could 
 only be an honourable one. But a secret errand ! 
 To be concealed from all the household, and at 
 night ! No ! He shook his head slowly in silence, 
 and looked upon the ground. 
 
 She clasped her hands in front of her in a 
 despairing way, and exclaimed, — 
 
 1 Do, Bastian, for the love you bore me in my 
 childhood, and for the sake of old days ! Come 
 down and I will show you something.' 
 
 He slowly descended the ladder upon which he 
 had been working, and approached near enough to 
 see the contents of a small bag which she displayed. 
 
 1 Here/ she said, ' is a note for fifty rupees. I 
 have saved that for the poor out of the presents of 
 my kind relations this year. Rambanda is now 
 one of the poorest, and God directs its use for him. 
 And here are rings and a silver girdle. These are 
 all yours, and will purchase for you a field of your 
 own. Take them all now if you will but consent 
 to me.' 
 
 The reward was a tempting one. His was a 
 slowly-wasting life now approaching the horizon, 
 and he toiled hard for his bare food. But from her 
 he could not take the treasures. Even if he would, 
 his sense of fidelity to the Ratemahatmya came 
 uppermost, and caused him to recoil from abetting 
 the clandestine errand of his niece. He waved his 
 hand as if to set aside the bribe. 
 
 ' I cannot, missy. It is a crime for anyone, and 
 for me, who has been forty years eating the rice of 
 this house, worse ! ' 
 
1 76 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 She had failed, then ; and, dropping the bag and 
 its contents upon the ground, she put her hands 
 over her face and burst into tears. 
 
 The peasant's resolution broke down ; the 
 childish grief pierced his ancient but tender 
 heart to the core. He stooped and touched her 
 feet with his hands in reverence, and exclaimed, — 
 
 ' Shed no more tears, lovely daughter of 
 Mahaganga. I will attend you, and care for you 
 with my blood's last drop. Tell me but one thing. 
 It is to no evil you are going, and for no purpose 
 in which a faithful servant of this house should take 
 no part ? ' 
 
 Bending with difficulty he collected the fallen 
 trinkets, and, restoring them to the bag with the 
 money, handed all to Kirimanica. She was over- 
 joyed, and felt as if half the danger were passed. 
 She said, — 
 
 1 I did not think, oh, Bastian ! that you, our old 
 and faithful companion, would fail me now at this 
 dreadful time. You shall never regret the part 
 you are taking, and if I have to forego my own 
 daily bread I promise you you shall never lack. 
 May God bless you ! And now, listen ! At ten 
 o'clock to-night be under the banyan tree at the 
 first bend in the road after leaving the Walawa. 
 Bring a light, but let it not be bright, and cover it 
 with a cloth until I come, that you may not be 
 perceived. Be silent, now and always, of that 
 which you are to do, and that no one may be on 
 the alert ; rouse not, if you can help it, even the 
 wild birds. I trust you ! Let no change of mind 
 lead you to betray me.' 
 
 The old man was trembling with apprehension, 
 fearing that he was furthering some unholy mis- 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 177 
 
 sion, and quite certain that the project of the girl 
 would, if known, be approved by neither her 
 parents nor the Ratemahatmya. In fact, had it 
 been anticipated, she would have been placed 
 under restraint. But he had promised, and now 
 meekly and dejectedly acquiesced in her arrange- 
 ments. 
 
 Kirimanica hardly knew how to speed the time 
 from early morning to the hour appointed with 
 Bastian. She felt guilty towards her own parents, 
 and yet conscious that she meant no wrong, and 
 was acting for the best. All spoke very little, and 
 the house was dull, not to say melancholy. The 
 verdict of the magistrate was awaited in the case 
 of Rambanda, and the terrible uncertainty that 
 reigned drove all other thoughts away. 
 
 The girl worked and read, read and worked, 
 under a painful feeling of constraint, her mind 
 constantly dwelling upon the coming enterprise, 
 and her eyes often turned to the valley far away, 
 where some red-tiled roofs among the umbrageous 
 trees marked the town of Matila. 
 
 The last meal was served at sunset, and for a 
 brief time afterwards the family sat in the ver- 
 andah discussing the probability of the prisoner 
 receiving a light sentence, or even of his being 
 acquitted. But, in truth, they felt that this view 
 was too sanguine, and, in reality, their hearts were 
 heavy with apprehension. The old chief had not 
 appeared. He was suffering much, and was proud 
 enough to suffer alone. 
 
 At an early hour they separated, perhaps only 
 too glad to forget in sleep the care that cast its 
 sombre hues over all their surroundings. 
 
 Kirimanica hastened upstairs. It was half-past 
 
 M 
 
178 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 nine o'clock, so that there was no time to lose. 
 She knelt upon the floor and turned out the con- 
 tents of her box. She selected for her attire a 
 thin muslin, close-fitting jacket, trimmed elabor- 
 ately with fine silk lace, and a salmon-coloured 
 figured silk wrapper, to be worn from the waist 
 downwards, one end being brought over the left 
 shoulder and across the bosom to the right side. 
 Pearl and gold tassels were affixed to the ears ; 
 bracelets and ankle ornaments of beaten gold 
 plaques in their appropriate places. Round the 
 knot of her hair, worn lightly behind, was wound 
 a wreath of champa and double jasmine flowers. 
 The clothes were heavily scented by the sandal- 
 wood lining of her box, and her tresses fragrant 
 with the odour of a sweet-smelling unguent. She 
 bathed in water to which essence of rose had 
 been added, and altogether took more pains, she 
 thought, over her toilette than she had ever done 
 before. She wanted to please, and counted upon 
 this to win her case. 
 
 Regarding herself in the glass, she was not ill 
 satisfied, but reflected that she must not look sad. 
 The events of yesterday had imprinted the stamp 
 of melancholy upon her face. A slight smile 
 brought the delicate curves of her lips into play, 
 and revealed the brilliancy of her pearly teeth. 
 That would do, and it added the necessary finish 
 to a charming picture. 
 
 The next step was to get out of the house with- 
 out being perceived. She snatched her lace hand- 
 kerchief from the table and blew out the candles 
 that flanked the looking-glass, advanced to the door, 
 opened it, and listened. There was no sound of 
 life. But apprehension of being discovered, and 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 179 
 
 also of the issue of her adventure, made her 
 tremble all over, and she was startled when the 
 watchman beat the hour of ten upon the gong 
 behind the house. Her bare feet enabled her to 
 descend the stairs unheard, and, feeling her way 
 along the passage, she placed her hand upon the 
 heavy bolt of the front door. It was immovable. 
 She pulled at it with all her force again and again, 
 but failed to make it stir. This was an unlooked- 
 for check, and the chill of disappointment made 
 her shudder. She glided into the dining-room, 
 whose windows looked upon the verandah, and 
 quietly bringing a chair close to one of them, she 
 withdrew the bolt which secured it half-way up, 
 and to her gratification found she could raise it 
 sufficiently to admit of her passing through. It 
 was bright moonlight outside, and although time 
 was flying, she was obliged to be cautious, and 
 sheltered herself behind some tall croton bushes 
 while she looked round. No one was moving. At 
 the far end of the verandah were several recumbent 
 figures wrapped from head to foot like mummies, 
 in cotton sheets, and near them a dim light was 
 burning. She ventured forth swiftly with an in- 
 audible tread, and with trembling limbs and palpi- 
 tating heart glided in the shade to the spot where 
 Bastian was to await her. The faithful creature 
 had been there for an hour, and was squatting on 
 the ground, with his chin on his knees and his arms 
 clasped round his legs, dreaming of a land where 
 there would be no more hedging and ditching to 
 be done. Kirimanica tapped him on the shoulder, 
 which was sufficient to bring him to his feet. No 
 word was spoken. But when Bastian had lighted 
 the lantern he was aghast at perceiving that the 
 
i8o A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 girl was dressed in her best things, and glittering 
 with jewellery, and had forgotten in her haste to 
 bring a shawl or cloak to cover her person while 
 on the road. He felt quite angry, knowing that 
 they would have to traverse the highway. He whis- 
 pered to her to wait for a few moments beneath 
 the tree, and hastening away, returned shortly with 
 a clean white wrapper, which he signed to her to 
 put on, and which effectually covered her figure 
 from top to toe. 
 
 Bastian led the way with the lantern, and a long 
 staff for the benefit of any enemies, human or 
 animal, that they might meet with. They both 
 kept an eye upon the ground for snakes and 
 scorpions — the warm, genial weather tempting 
 both to come abroad. The old man dislodged 
 several, or brought down his staff with irresistible 
 effect upon the unwary reptiles. 
 
 It was a glorious night. The fireflies were out, 
 twinkling among their favourite trees like opal- 
 escent lamps ; and, on the ground, creeping insects 
 endowed with the same power lighted up the 
 borders of the path. The dew had commenced to 
 settle upon the blades of grass, and glistened like 
 a myriad of gems, and was upheld in the ample 
 fronds of the plantain trees in great crystal drops. 
 The faint breeze off the mountains brought the 
 fragrance of dried grasses and wild jasmine, and 
 slowly stirred the drooping palm leaves that 
 overshadowed the travellers. The nearer they 
 approached to Matila the more disquieted, even 
 alarmed, became the timid and inexperienced little 
 maiden. At the Walawa she believed herself to 
 be courageous enough to meet any hazard for a 
 cause such as that she had espoused, but, regarded 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 181 
 
 at close quarters, the ordeal she was to undergo 
 seemed to grow more and more formidable. She 
 lost her firmness of step, and once or twice called 
 to Bastian to halt, in order that she might rest 
 upon a wayside stone. Some carts passed, and 
 the drivers, in friendly style, asked them of their 
 business. It was Bastian who replied. She was 
 his daughter. They were journeying from a 
 distant village to Matila to join her mother. 
 Kirimanica was almost wholly concealed in the 
 sheet, and the explanation did well enough. 
 
 As they entered Matila the hour of eleven was 
 struck at the jail gates. The thoughts of the girl 
 at once flew to the unfortunate Rambanda con- 
 fined within the high brick walls. Did he sleep ? 
 It was not likely. The keen sorrow in leaving his 
 old home, in leaving his father's embrace, perhaps 
 for the last time, perhaps grief in forsaking her 
 herself, would prevent the repose which comes so 
 easily to him of quiet mind. 
 
 The streets were almost empty, save that many 
 of the inhabitants were sleeping out in front of 
 their shops and dwelling-houses. Bastian did not 
 know their destination. The girl directed him to 
 the road that led to Mr Gray's house. When 
 they arrived at the gate of the avenue the old 
 man evinced some reluctance to proceed. He 
 protested that it was wrong for a lady of their 
 house to put herself in this position. He could 
 not understand the sense in which she was acting, 
 and the attractive costume and fragrant perfumes, 
 which heightened her charms, seemed to him to 
 suggest only one purpose. 
 
 Kirimanica, now determined to go through with 
 her project, exclaimed, — 
 
i8 2 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 ' Bastian, you have promised to go with me : 
 there is no turning back. Now listen ! Half-way 
 up this road you are to remain concealed under the 
 bamboos. I shall approach the house alone. 
 Should I want aid, which I do not expect, I will 
 call and you can come at once. Otherwise re- 
 main until I return. You hear? It is my com- 
 mand ! ' 
 
 ' By the Lord Buddha, think once more, lady, 
 what you are doing — of your mother, of the dis- 
 grace to all Mahaganga ! ' 
 
 She made no reply, but threw the wrapper to 
 him disdainfully and stepped forward, erect and 
 proud, into the moonlight. The whole success of 
 her mission now depended, she was sensible, of her 
 being early enough to find Gray before he had 
 retired to rest. He had spoken of his habits, and 
 how at night he would sit up alone and get 
 through a good deal of his work. Would there be 
 a guard in front of the house ? That would be 
 fatal ! The idea made her withdraw into the 
 shade and approach the house in such a way as to 
 be unperceived. The dense foliage of the clumps 
 of giant bamboos enabled her to effect her object. 
 She worked her way quietly to within a few yards 
 of the windows of the room where Gray usually 
 sat. There was one light, shaded, and illuminating 
 only the surface of the table upon which it rested. 
 She was relieved to see no person upon the side of 
 the house to which she advanced. A few more 
 steps, and, clutching the gold cross which she 
 wore, with one hand, as if to invoke divine pro- 
 tection, and supporting her trembling limbs with 
 the other, she glided through an open window 
 which reached to the floor, and stood in the centre 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 183 
 
 of the room, for the moment unperceived and un- 
 heard. A change of position caused her anklets 
 to strike one against the other. 
 
 Gray had been poring over his official papers, 
 and at the sound he threw himself back in the 
 arm-chair, out of the zone of lamplight in which 
 he had been reading. He passed his hand 
 across his eyes to be sure that he saw aright. 
 ' Here ! Alone ! and unattended, Kirimanica ! 
 Impossible ! ' 
 
 He was young enough to have ungoverned 
 impulses as other men, which break all bounds 
 like the irresistible tide of the ocean when some 
 great tempest comes. It was such a moment. 
 He rose from his chair and went forward to the 
 girl. She stood, unable to speak, with her hands 
 clasped and her eyes lowered. 
 
 To him it seemed her visit could have but one 
 meaning. Was he to accept it ? Ever since the 
 evening of his accident he had had a tender liking 
 for the child. Then she was lovely and sweet in 
 her innocence. How was it to be without one 
 word from her to guide him ? He forgot, like 
 most would, that his duty to her in her feebleness 
 was to guard and guide the girl. He put his arm 
 round her with such strength that she was unable 
 to resist, and grasping her hands with that of his 
 which was free, drew her to his knee as he sat 
 down upon a settee in the moonlight. Her struggle 
 to be released was of no avail. It appeared to him 
 as only a pretence of unwillingness. Kirimanica 
 herself was so frightened that she was for a few 
 moments speechless. The light fell upon her 
 sweet face, and her tempting beauty ; the fragrance 
 she exhaled gave a voluptuousness to her charms 
 
1 84 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 to which her companion could not be insensible. 
 He stooped and kissed her lips several times. To 
 the girl the sensation was a mixed one. It was 
 supremely pleasant, but there was a sting at heart. 
 She had lost something, first in his embrace, more 
 when she received his kisses. She had parted with 
 her childish simplicity and with something of her 
 innocence. The latter feeling predominated now, 
 and, without knowing how or in what words she 
 spoke, Kirimanica exclaimed, — 
 
 * I love you ! but spare me in my weakness ! It 
 was not for this I came, believe me. You pain 
 me in my heart ! Release me, for Christ's sake, 
 your Lord and my Lord ! ' The moonlight fell, as 
 she moved, upon the golden cross lying upon her 
 swelling bosom as if to guard her from profane 
 hands. 
 
 He bent and snatched one long kiss, and yielded 
 himself to the true spirit of the man which was 
 struggling to regain possession of him. 
 
 The little drama was played in a few minutes. 
 
 She was then left sitting, a red spot on each 
 cheek, and glowing warm with shame, upon the 
 sofa, in the full light of the moon. He walked up 
 and down the long room for a short time in silence. 
 A revelation had come. He was conscious that he 
 loved the girl, but he could not tell at that moment 
 in what way. His pulses were beating too high for 
 him to be able to analyse his sensations. She felt 
 in fear of further misconstruction, and forced her- 
 self to speak. She stood up, as if in the presence 
 of a superior, and revealed the beauty of her form 
 outlined by the tasteful drapery disposed with the 
 unrivalled art of the East. 
 
 * I had come to beg a favour of you, even upon 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON i85 
 
 my knees — a poor, weak girl, alone and unper- 
 mitted, almost unprotected. I risk disgrace, the 
 loss of all I love, and perhaps banishment from 
 my own home, but on a duty which, by God's 
 guidance, I took upon myself. You are the magis- 
 trate in Matila, and will deal with Rambanda, the 
 son of the Chief of Mahaganga, and my cousin. 
 You said once you would be my friend.' . . . 
 
 The meaning of the visit came at once home to 
 Gray, who stopped in his hasty walk and said 
 gravely, — 
 
 ' Sit down, Kirimanica ; you have done that 
 which might ruin both you and me. In your 
 inexperience you have taken a course which 
 might still further injure the person whom you 
 wish to save.' 
 
 She fell upon her knees, and raising her clasped 
 hands, exclaimed, — 
 
 1 Let me but speak for a few minutes. Ram- 
 banda has ever been good and honourable. Our 
 land has been encroached upon, and, traversing the 
 boundary by night, he met the offenders and dis- 
 charged his gun in the moment of anger. In the 
 name of the merciful God who deals not with us 
 according to our sins, act kindly to him in your 
 judgment, and remember that he was provoked. 
 Think of the grey hairs of his father, whose heart 
 is breaking ! In pity upon us all be lenient.' 
 
 Gray was angry with himself for his weakness, 
 and was more stern in his reply than he would 
 otherwise have been. He said, — 
 
 1 Kneel not, child, to me, who can do nothing 
 for you. You should never have come here, and 
 you must return quickly as you came. The case 
 of Rambanda will not be decided here. He is 
 
1 86 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 committed to the sessions at Kandy, and to-morrow 
 will be removed to the Kandy Jail' 
 
 She looked up at him despairingly, the velvety 
 eyes clouded over, the tears welled over, and, 
 bending her head, wept piteously. 
 
 Gray felt strangely moved, but was inwardly- 
 angry with the situation in which he found himself. 
 He placed his hand kindly upon her head and 
 said, — 
 
 ' Do not sorrow, my dear ; the case will be care- 
 fully considered, All you say is known and in 
 evidence. Be comforted in that faith in which 
 you happily believe. There is no prejudice 
 against Rambanda, even by the wounded man. 
 He still lives, and is improving. The Crown pro- 
 secutes. Now you must leave here. Fortunately 
 you have not been seen, but, had anyone been 
 about, the result would have been disastrous.' 
 
 She dried her eyes and rose. She did not know 
 in what manner she was to say good-night. She 
 had been startled into an admission of which she 
 felt utterly ashamed. And yet he had kissed her 
 as if he cared for her. The lips of no one had 
 ever met hers before in such wise. Were those 
 embraces to be forgotten, only to be a mere 
 memory and an incident of this night ? She 
 thought that she had better merely hold out her 
 hand in formal salutation. 
 
 Gray was so touched with the timid aspect of 
 the little maiden, and the plaintiveness of the 
 whole scene, that he drew her to him and kissed 
 her, it must have been several times, and holding 
 her hand, said, — 
 
 1 Come quietly, and keep in the shade ; I will 
 lead you to your conveyance. Never come again 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 187 
 
 in this way, Kirimanica, remember. I love you 
 too well. You will think of me. It may be in 
 the future that we shall meet. We will think if 
 we can ever be anything else to each other than 
 what we are.' 
 
 The girl answered quite simply, — ' I never 
 forget you. I shall always be true. But I am 
 Singhalese — of a coloured race — and you of the 
 English, the lords of the world. I fear me, to 
 meet thus is the first and last time. The prayers 
 of a poor girl are ever for your happiness and 
 success. Farewell.' 
 
 Without an atom of boldness or immodesty she 
 had placed her hand upon his shoulder, and, 
 lifting her face like a child, received and gave 
 back his last kiss. 
 
 They had come to the spot where Bastian was 
 waiting. He was much disturbed. Kirimanica 
 had been away for half an hour. She said in a 
 composed voice, — 
 
 ' All is well, Bastian. Rambanda is to be moved 
 to Kandy to-morrow. They will be lenient with 
 him. Is not that good news, and worth all the 
 trouble of a night's journey like this to learn ? ' 
 
 It pleased the old man, who was still, however, 
 very disquieted. 
 
 Gray himself disposed the white wrappers 
 round Kirimanica, and telling the peasant to be 
 careful with her, said to the girl, — 
 
 1 1 suppose you must walk for secrecy's sake, 
 otherwise I should like to drive you home. I am 
 sorry that you should have this toil and the object 
 of your enterprise ungained. But, cheer up, things 
 may not be so bad as they look, and may God 
 bless you ! ' 
 
1 88 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 What a change had come over the girl in a 
 short hour ! She was returning more composed 
 in mind than when she entered Matila, and yet 
 that had occurred which she would have imagined 
 would have agitated her nature to its depths. But 
 she felt calm and hopeful. He was not a man to 
 be carried away in a transport at the sight of a 
 pretty face. She did not believe that he would 
 have taken to his arms any girl who might have 
 presented herself at night. No, her instincts re- 
 vealed to her that, towards herself, it was an earlier 
 conceived love which was simply finding expression. 
 Again he might, if he had liked, cast off all re- 
 straint with her — she trembled to think — she was 
 in his power, but he had spared her ; that was 
 noble, and showed the quality of his love and the 
 strength of his character. She felt proud that she 
 had gained the affection of one who was fitted 
 in every way to choose his own mate from the 
 crowd of beauties — all blonde, from her point of 
 view — who belonged to the society in which he 
 moved. She would still, in a certain sense, be 
 happy, if he never sought her again, which was 
 not improbable. To-night it was she who had 
 thrust herself upon him. The circumstances of 
 their respective lives were so different, and the 
 barriers hedging them so formidable to pass, that 
 it was quite possible that they might not even 
 meet to speak. But the humble little heart had 
 received something wondrous grateful to-night, 
 and could live upon that for long. 
 
 They arrived back at the Walawa without 
 untoward incident, and Kirimanica, entering as 
 she had left, crept stealthily upstairs and put her 
 clothes and jewels safely in her box. She found 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEVLON 189 
 
 that she had dropped her lace handkerchief. Her 
 name was upon it, and she felt distressed lest it 
 should be found and identified. She even went 
 downstairs, and as far as the verandah, by aid of a 
 match, but found it not, and, flinging herself upon 
 her couch, fell into a deep sleep, in which the 
 unwonted kisses seemed again to be pressed upon 
 her lips. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 RUMOUR spreads in the East with marvellous 
 rapidity, and it could not have been over an hour 
 from the time when the event was discovered that 
 the news came to the Mahaganga Walawa that 
 Rambanda had escaped from custody. The crenu- 
 lated ridge of the jail wall was built up of loose 
 bricks, and the wonder was, in displacing a number 
 of these, that the noise should not have alarmed the 
 guard. But there were the fallen bricks, and also 
 the marks of the prisoner's feet against the wall. 
 A rope had been thrown over from outside. It 
 must have occurred in the dark hours, just after 
 the perambulation of the guard. The prisoner got 
 a start, which enabled him to get clean away, 
 and he was never retaken. It was not that he 
 feared to meet his charge, but the prospect of 
 being herded for the best part of his life with 
 common criminals was too much for him, and he 
 availed himself of the means offered him to escape, 
 which, in his position as one of a wealthy family, 
 were not long in being presented to him. Ram- 
 banda was never seen at the Walawa again. But 
 had his father, the same night, worn out with 
 grief and anxiety, not been plunged in deep sleep, 
 before as yet the silver gleams of dawn had out- 
 lined the distant peaks, he might have taken a 
 last farewell of the son who was so dear to him, 
 
 190 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 191 
 
 for the latter had, stripped to the waist and bare- 
 footed, as stealthy as a leopard, insinuated himself 
 into the room, and was stooping' fondly, but with 
 the bitterness of death at his heart, over the loved 
 form. He pressed his lips to the old man's brow 
 and quickly left, for he was now a hunted animal. 
 A few things were taken of his own property 
 (one was a small picture of Kirimanica), and as he 
 quitted the house for the jungles he cast one look 
 at the girl's casement. Despairingly waving his 
 hand he plunged into the shelter of the forest trees 
 and bush, and by little trodden paths descended to 
 the valley of the mighty river that winds in deep 
 gorges among the mountains of Kandy and Matila. 
 Gone beyond recall ! 
 
 Welletenya heard of his son's escape with 
 mixed feelings. Pride of race suggested that 
 Rambanda should have answered to the charge of 
 grievous hurt or of manslaughter in court. Then 
 again, the chief would himself be suspected of 
 having given bribes to secure the connivance of 
 the guards in the escape, whereas he was wholly 
 innocent of even such an intention. That would, 
 however, be the general impression, it was clear. 
 Further, had the trial proceeded, it was quite 
 possible the accused might have been heavily 
 fined and released, and the joy of his house would 
 be full on his return. That would, indeed, have 
 been a happy solution of this terrible difficulty. 
 But, of course, there was also the probability of a 
 more severe sentence — imprisonment for a more 
 or less long period. 
 
 But now the lad was an outlaw ! Never would 
 he take his place again upon his own lands ! It 
 was an awful burden for the old chief, and the 
 
192 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 weight of his years seemed to him never to have 
 felt so grievous. 
 
 Rambanda could not now return, and it was 
 plain that he must not hope to see him more. 
 And yet he might surreptitiously, by night, come 
 back to see the loved face and gaze upon the old 
 house once again. And it was in this deferred 
 hope that the devoted parent lived, and wearily, 
 with failing steps, went the round of his farms and 
 coppices. 
 
 His relatives felt that he would wish to be alone, 
 and a few days after the flight of Rambanda they 
 left the Walawa upon their return to Colombo. 
 
 Kirimanica, at her departure, sought out the old 
 peasant, Bastian, and pressed upon him a bag of 
 fifty rupees, saying, — 
 
 ' Although my errand was unsuccessful — that was 
 not the right word, quite,' she corrected herself — ' I 
 mean, was of no avail for Rambanda — poor, beloved 
 Rambanda ! — yet you were faithful, Bastian, and 
 this is a little reward I should like you to have. 
 Continue to keep my secret. No one should know 
 I went to Mr Gray by night. I know no evil, but 
 my father and mother would be distressed were 
 they aware of my boldness. I did my best for my 
 poor brother, and failed. You love him, Bastian ? 
 I know you do, and so do all those here who have 
 seen him grow up from childhood, and looked to 
 him as the future chief of Mahaganga. May God, 
 who protected His weak child on the night you 
 know of, guard you and bless you in your old age.' 
 
 She turned quickly away, leaving the old man 
 silent and dejected, holding the cotton bag of 
 rupees in his hand. He watched her out of sight, 
 and with a thankful heart transferred the bag to 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEVLON 193 
 
 the hidden folds of his vvaistcloth. Murmuring his 
 blessings for her, he resumed his work of thatching 
 and roofing the cattle-sheds. In the evening, on 
 turning out the bag, with his wife, in his own hut, 
 they found the gold trinkets at the bottom. He 
 explained that the presents were given by Kiri- 
 manica, in remembrance of his service in the time 
 of her happy childhood. Upon arrival at Colombo, 
 the Panabokki family resumed their quiet life in 
 the little house in Colpetty. 
 
 Kirimanica again took up attendance at the 
 school of Santa Maria for certain lessons. But 
 she seemed, in mind, to have passed beyond her 
 old associates. She felt as if she had taken the 
 definite place in the world for which she was 
 destined. Yet she did not know, could not be 
 certain, that she would be called upon properly 
 to fill it, and to exercise those new functions of 
 which she had become intuitively conscious. A 
 sort of admission had been made to her by another 
 person that he cared for her, but what immense 
 obstacles interposed between them, even if his 
 impression were not a transient one, in regard to 
 race, prejudice, family religion and social sphere ! 
 It was well nigh impossible for him to break 
 through such barriers. She knew it. 
 
 Mrs Agnew had heard of the girl's return, and 
 of the episode at the Walawa. Indeed, the latter 
 had been noticed in all the newspapers. So she 
 invited Kirimanica to see her alone. Lotus Hall 
 was now interwoven with the romance of the girl's 
 life, and, in a manner, sacred to the memory of 
 a certain person. To go there had always been 
 pleasant. Now it was delightful. She would be 
 likely to hear something of Mr Gray. 
 
 N 
 
94 
 
 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 The lady of the house appeared so bright and 
 happy that Kirimanica could not help showing her 
 surprise at the change, which was the more marked 
 by the warm manner in which Helen put an arm 
 round her and pressed her lips to her brow. 
 
 Helen pitied the child in the circumstances in 
 which she had recently been placed. She knew 
 how matters had been between her and Rambanda, 
 and could not help discerning the sadness and 
 thoughtfulness which the childish face had recently 
 assumed. But the particular interest she felt in 
 Kirimanica had been deepened by receipt of a 
 letter that very day from up-country, which she 
 little doubted had reference to the girl. As they 
 sat down to tea, the latter said, — 
 
 ' May I say something, lady — something that 
 seems to spring from my heart ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, dear child ; do not hesitate to be frank 
 with me, who am now an old friend.' 
 
 ' I am full of joy at seeing you look happy. 
 You used to be sad. The clouds have perhaps 
 passed, and there is sunshine once more?' 
 
 ' Too true, you observant little thing. I cannot 
 tell you what has happened, but what I most 
 prized, and deemed I had lost, has now been found, 
 and I trust always to possess it. Then again, my 
 beloved father is here, which has made me doubly 
 happy. He wishes to see you, the original of the 
 portrait which he viewed in a London gallery. 
 Will you mind ? ' 
 
 1 Oh, no, lady ; if it be your wish I would do 
 much to meet it' 
 
 ' My father is a painter. He has, with his 
 friends, been to Bond Street to see " One of 
 Singhala's Brightest and Best." They consider 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 195 
 
 that I have been fairly successful, and I reply 
 that I had a good subject. I daresay he will want 
 to try his hand upon the same, so I hope you 
 will humour him. He and my husband are the 
 only two dear ones that I have in the world. A 
 sensible distance separates me in feeling from 
 others whose friendship is often only of a month 
 or a year. You will learn, dear child, as you 
 grow older, that little which is professed is true 
 and lasting. I must not make you cynical, but 
 I mean that you should cling to your father and 
 mother, and to them who are faithful to you in 
 your childhood.' 
 
 Kirimanica said, — 
 
 ' I see that you hardly know the Singhalese. 
 We girls live, from infancy, timidly, in the seclusion 
 of our own homes, the ceaseless care of our mothers, 
 and the solicitous charges of our fathers, trusting 
 mostly in their love, and apprehensive of all sorts 
 of imaginary dangers that we grow to believe 
 haunt us out-of-doors. Many girls pass straight 
 from their quiet and uneventful homes to married 
 lives, with men who have been selected as suitable 
 by their parents. We do not form many friend- 
 ships, and have more regard for our parents than 
 most girls of Western races. My own father and 
 mother have my first thoughts, and, although I am 
 growing to think differently from them in religious 
 faith, the longing grows within me at the same 
 time that they should share with me the hope and 
 peace I have found. And you, lady, are remem- 
 bered in my prayers.' 
 
 The simplicity of her utterance touched Helen, 
 who said, more unreservedly than usual, — 
 
 ' Since you once spoke on this subject in this 
 
196 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 room, my child, the shadow of a great disaster 
 came over me, and, it seems to me, by supernatural 
 means it was averted. The sense of an inspired 
 word made itself felt in a heart which human effort 
 had failed to touch, and a sudden gleam of divine 
 light guided the straying footsteps of one who had 
 erringly left the right path. I cannot be plain with 
 you, for there are secrets which must be ever kept. 
 This is one. But to me now the future has a deep 
 significance, as it has to you, and I know that there 
 can be no peace without reconciliation, and no 
 calm courage wherewith to face the difficulties of 
 this life, and the Valley of the Shadow of Death, 
 except in that fact. Happy are you that no 
 trouble has forced you to see the truth of what 
 you believe ! We have come to the same faith 
 by different ways.' 
 
 The intuitive discernment of the girl gave her 
 the key of Helen's veiled confession, and she 
 smiled happily, with her eyes fixed upon those 
 of her companion. 
 
 1 In the past I seem,' continued the latter, ' to 
 have lived in a purely materialistic environment. 
 The pleasure and gratification of the moment, or 
 the anticipation of some fresh enjoyment, was 
 everything. Now, the incidents of daily life, which 
 have no great purpose, seem to be like the little 
 whisps of vapour that fleet by us on the wind, and 
 melt away in a few moments, leaving no trace 
 behind them. I have grown to feel that every- 
 thing one does should have a purpose and a 
 motive for ultimate good. I cannot drift on the 
 stream longer, basking in the sunshine and 
 culling the scented blossoms that grow upon 
 its margin.' 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 197 
 
 She had seated herself upon the arm of the 
 chair upon which Kirimanica was sitting, and put 
 her arm round the girl. It might be that she felt 
 that communion with this simple and artless mind 
 had influenced her in determining to enter upon 
 a new phase of life. 
 
 While in this attitude, Caselli came into the 
 room, and, with a keen eye for contrast, stood 
 at the threshold gazing interestedly upon the 
 graceful grouping and natural beauty of the 
 pair. It was a rare spectacle, and, for a few 
 minutes, he was lost in admiration. 
 
 ' That must be my picture for next year's 
 exhibition ! ' he said ; ' now, I will take no refusal. 
 The light is perfect, but so brief that I must have 
 several sittings. The short afterglow of the 
 Tropics gives one scant time. It shall be called 
 <l Sympathy : an Anticipation." It will be a 
 sermon on canvas.' 
 
 He advanced to shake hands, in his kindly 
 manner, with Kirimanica, saying, — 
 
 ' I have known you, young lady, for some time 
 past, both from my daughter's letters and from 
 your portrait ; and now I am pleased, nay, delighted, 
 to meet so sweet a representative of this lovely 
 island. You will let me talk to you, I am sure, 
 and you will teach me much.' 
 
 While they sat apart in the window, Helen 
 approached her writing-table, upon which was 
 a letter bearing the Matila postmark. It had 
 been in her thoughts all day, and the reply should 
 be sent this evening. The letter ran, — 
 
 ' Matila, 26th May, 
 'DEAR MRS AGNEW, — I think that you are 
 
198 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 almost the only lady friend I have in Ceylon to 
 whom I could go in a great perplexity for advice. 
 You are not easily startled, wholly without insular 
 prejudice, and of sound judgment. You are also 
 distinctly sympathetic. I am sure you could help 
 me. I think I am in love, and my honour is com- 
 mitted. I was surprised, and my feelings would 
 demonstrate themselves. If I could see you for 
 an hour, and you will kindly name any day and 
 time convenient to you, I would run down to 
 Colombo for a very brief visit. If you can, pray 
 let me have a reply by next mail. In pleasant 
 anticipation of meeting you and your husband 
 again, — I am, as always, truly and sincerely yours, 
 
 'Charles Gray.' 
 
 Mr Agnew had permitted his wife to invite 
 Gray to stay with them, and she wrote to that 
 effect, naming an early date, and adding that she 
 feared her counsel would have little weight, but 
 that they would, if he wished, discuss the matter 
 fully. She said, ' You are not the only person 
 whose feelings have involuntarily displayed them- 
 selves in certain situations, but, you know, women 
 understand the warmth of a man's nature, and 
 make allowances for it' 
 
 The girl and Caselli were becoming friends. 
 His genial manner warmed her, and he interested 
 her by his vivid and artistic descriptions of places 
 which he had seen. Her own father, she thought, 
 was stolid and somewhat indifferent to those ele- 
 ments which give colour to existence, and yet he was 
 very dear to her. The fact was, her critical faculty 
 was becoming strongly developed, and these ideas 
 would come to her mind uncontrollably. Caselli 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 199 
 
 had already been among the Matila hills and the 
 dagobas of Anuradhapura, and when he spoke of 
 the wondrous beauties that had caught his artist's 
 eye, and he had roused the girl's interest, he found 
 that she possessed a susceptibility equal with his 
 own, although naturally less cultivated. 
 
 Caselli had been delighted with his reception 
 in Colombo. There had been no whisper of the 
 differences which formerly existed between hus- 
 band and wife. All was now sunshine at Lotus 
 Hall, and the two seemed better to understand each 
 other than they had ever done. The spiritual sense 
 had become more refined, the materialistic basis 
 upon which their union had been formed had been 
 left behind. Caselli, too, found the life delightful. 
 Everything unpleasant was put out of sight. The 
 very servants performed their parts with unremit- 
 ting precision, suppressing their own wants and 
 concealing their own cares. All that was calcu- 
 lated to offend was hidden away. The very diseases 
 that prevailed among the people were ignored or 
 forgotten, and those affected pushed out to distant 
 camps, where they would not be unpleasant to 
 high society, nor find means to be importunate. 
 Luxurious meals were served three times a day, 
 carriages ready at any time wherein to comfortably 
 roll along the well-kept roads in the grateful shade 
 of palms and acacias, and the house was full of 
 flowers, whose fragrance lulled the visitor into a 
 voluptuous repose. Caselli said, laughingly, after 
 a few days of perpetual enjoyment, — 
 
 ' It seems to me, my dear child, that if I were to 
 stay here long my right hand would become ener- 
 vated and my brush be dropped. What of the 
 e nnui that such a life engenders ? ' 
 
2oo A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 ' I have often felt it, dear father, and I know it 
 is mischievous. I could tell you much of its evil. 
 But I have two objects of interest — one is, Kiri- 
 manica, whom I have thought I could educate 
 somewhat in the best elements of Western life, 
 and the other is a lady friend, Mrs Airlie, who 
 wanted help. I have given it. She has formed 
 healthy resolves since she has regarded me as a 
 friend, and abided by them. Then, again, I have 
 hopes now,' and here she coloured, ' which I never 
 have had before— the most sacred a wife can have 
 
 and the issue of my future life seems bound up 
 
 in their fulfilment.' 
 
 Caselli, with his quick comprehension, understood 
 her meaning, and patted her on the head, then 
 strolled up and down the room, enjoying the view 
 of the lotus pond and the clumps of flowering 
 grasses that lay up against the boundary wall. 
 
 ' And what of this nice little damsel ? What 
 are your plans for her ? What she is learning of 
 you will unfit her for native life. You are not 
 educating a race, but only an individual. What 
 of her family— of her mother, for instance? It 
 seems to me that ultimately, when your influence 
 is withdrawn, she will but exemplify the sense of 
 the poet when he wrote, — 
 
 ' " Full many a gem of purest ray serene, 
 
 The dark, unfathomable caves of ocean bear ; 
 Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
 And waste its sweetness in the desert air." ' 
 
 ' That may apply to my little friend, but I do 
 not think it will. She is more likely to meet with 
 the esteem of some good man who will discern her 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 201 
 
 unusual qualities. I think I see her destiny marked 
 out/ said Helen. 
 
 1 Ah, marriage ! A good thing for her in time, 
 no doubt, but it is a pity that her education cannot 
 be pushed forward before that takes place. She 
 should go to England under your wing.' 
 
 ' That has occurred to me, but there will be 
 several people to be consulted — my husband, her 
 parents — who will oppose the plan strenuously, 
 and then — ' 
 
 ' The young man, you were going to say ? ' 
 
 ' It came as a mental suggestion, a mere pro- 
 bability.' 
 
 ' Well, we must try. We could make her very 
 happy at Heath Lodge. The study of art, con- 
 tact with English life, and the social intercourse 
 we have, will develop her character in a manner 
 which is impossible in her present seclusion.' 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Charles Gray had been, ever since the night of 
 Kirimanica's visit, perturbed in mind. The image 
 of the Singhalese maid was constantly presenting 
 itself in vivid colours, and not altogether in an 
 unwelcome way. He had for a brief moment 
 quite misconstrued her motives. However, he 
 had quickly found that he had, naturally no doubt, 
 made a terrible mistake. Her purity was above 
 suspicion. He recalled that he had once told her 
 he would be her friend. Trusting to that, she 
 came. Her innocent simplicity and helplessness 
 had made her the more charming. Her evident 
 admiration for him she had not the art to conceal. 
 He supposed that this, as it often does between 
 opposite sexes, had awakened a similar feeling in 
 him. Did he love her, or did he experience an 
 obligation to make amends to her? He could 
 not answer the question. Both considerations 
 seemed to point him one way. 
 
 But, putting himself outside of his immediate 
 environment, there was an aspect of the case which 
 caused him much perplexity, and conflicted so with 
 his own predilection as to make him at times quite 
 irritable. What would his friends think and say? 
 —his parents, before all ? Some prejudices were 
 unconquerable, and racial antipathy was often 
 deeply grounded in the very nature of the indi- 
 vidual. He could not help seeing the difficulties 
 
 202 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 203 
 
 he had here to contend with. There would be 
 strong opposition on both sides. In the step which 
 he contemplated, or was growing to contemplate, 
 he might sacrifice the loved associations of his old 
 home, and here, in Ceylon, be practically lost 
 to his former acquaintances. Then the thought 
 would occur to him — suppose that hereafter there 
 were children ! With what disabilities would they 
 be brought into the world? To be looked at 
 askance by the Kandyan family to which they 
 would be related, and despised, perhaps, because 
 coloured, by those of his own race, and credited 
 falsely with all the frailties of the Oriental ! He 
 knew what an impassable barrier, created by pride 
 and prejudice, existed in Ceylon between the alien 
 and indigenous races — a barrier which almost pre- 
 vented social intercourse in its best sense. 
 
 However, in his quiet and reflective moments, 
 the thought of the solemn responsibility he had 
 incurred prevailed, and, under the influence of 
 that, he had written to Helen to ask for her 
 advice. 
 
 When the reply came he obtained at once leave 
 of absence for two days, and took an early train 
 for Colombo. 
 
 The society of the Agnews and Caselli refreshed 
 him. His monotonous life in Matila deprived him 
 of the elasticity of temperament natural to his 
 youth, and here he felt gay and hopeful. He 
 was sensible of being with friends. After lunch, 
 Mrs Agnew invited him to the fernery, which was 
 luxuriant in the dampness of the south-west wind 
 and frequent showers of June. 
 
 As they strolled along the verandah, she said, — 
 
 ' Do you know, Mr Gray, I think I have guessed 
 
204 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 the circumstances of your errand. Your letter 
 hinted much. Perhaps I have drawn a wrong 
 conclusion ? ' 
 
 He felt that he was taking one step more that 
 would help to seal his destiny. He answered, — 
 
 * I may have expressed myself too freely, and 
 I cannot explain altogether what I wrote, but 
 I think you are one who would respect me for 
 doing right above all other considerations.' 
 
 She smiled, and nodded. 
 
 1 The simple child — she is hardly more — who 
 lives yonder, and I have a deep interest in each 
 other. We have met once since I was last here, 
 and have met as lovers. The burden of conceal- 
 ment is with poor Kirimanica ; I am sure it is 
 a painful effort for her to keep a secret from her 
 parents. And yet the whole thing has been 
 developed from three accidents. Firstly, my 
 being thrown in the Colpetty Road and being 
 taken into their house ; secondly, my casual 
 meeting with the little maid here; and thirdly, 
 a chance rencontre at Matila, when I felt that 
 liking had become love, and was assured that 
 I possessed hers.' 
 
 Helen regarded Gray doubtfully, and placing 
 her hand upon his arm, met his eyes with hers, 
 and said, — 
 
 ' There was no harm to the child ? I cannot 
 think of you but as true and honourable.' 
 
 ' Accept the word of a gentleman ! She is 
 innocent as ever, but if I have read her rightly 
 her heart is fixed unalterably. And now, tell me, 
 should I wait, or should the issue not be post- 
 poned ? I have reviewed all the difficulties, the 
 inherent prejudices, and the obstacles to be over- 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 205 
 
 come, but I have determined that my courage 
 shall not fail.' 
 
 'You may count upon my friendship through 
 all. You speak like a man, and I admire your 
 truth and honesty. I think you will find that my 
 husband and my father feel with me, although 
 they may at first be startled by this revelation. 
 I cannot give you an immediate answer. I, too, 
 love the child, and she shall always have my 
 protection. But she is so young as barely to have 
 a definite idea of all that marriage means, and 
 I doubt if her yet imperfect education warrants 
 companionship with you, at this time, in the 
 intimate relations of wedlock. You must let me 
 think, and, if you are not opposed to it, let me 
 consult the other two. May I ? ' 
 
 ' You may put the case, but let it be treated as 
 confidential. Your own wisdom is sufficient guide, 
 but I see that you do not like the responsibility 
 of a sole decision. It has been a relief to me to 
 talk over the matter with you, and to make you 
 privy to my feelings, apart from the pleasure one 
 has in your charming presence.' 
 
 ' That is no flattery from you, Mr Gray, and 
 I reciprocate your kind feeling, but, do you know, 
 I have had so many compliments paid to me since 
 I have been in Colombo that now they are almost 
 unheeded. I could wish that many poor girls, 
 neglected because they are plain, could share some 
 of them with me, but from before the time of my 
 namesake of Troy, a pretty face seems to carry the 
 day. I have been told, thousands of times, that I 
 am pretty — a mere accidental and physical quality 
 — the transient gift of a few years — but when 
 I am also admirable in mind I shall be happy.' 
 
2o6 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 'Well, if it be a pleasure to know the fact, 
 I may tell you that you are both. It is fortunate 
 that to-day we are restrained by law, or there 
 might have been serious conflicts for the possession 
 of one so desirable. I think, however, you are 
 satisfied with your destiny; is it not so?' 
 
 1 1 have no regrets — not now. It was terrible 
 to leave Heath Lodge and father behind. But 
 I know that I am wedded to one who has borne 
 with my weaknesses as no other would, and who 
 has proved his devotion. I am, happily, con- 
 tented.' 
 
 'I should ask for no more than you enjoy, 
 judging as a mere spectator of the outward 
 manifestations of your inner life, but I am aware 
 that I am engaged upon an unusual problem.' 
 
 ' May the issue be influenced by divine grace ! 
 Now, it is getting near tea-time. Knowing that 
 you were to be here, I asked Manica to come over. 
 She is ignorant of your arrival, but if you have 
 resolved beyond recall, I think you should give 
 her a word of encouragement. Otherwise, I shall 
 feel that I am playing a wrong part.' 
 
 He took her soft, little hand, and, stooping, 
 kissed it, and pressed it between his, and said, — 
 
 ' I thank you from my heart. I have made up 
 my mind, never fear. But listen, I did not ask 
 for this clandestine interview.' 
 
 'That responsibility is mine. I must go now. 
 She will be here at five o'clock. I will allow you 
 fifteen minutes alone. After that expect me,' and 
 waving her hand, laughingly looking back at Gray, 
 she left the room. 
 
 Kirimanica's practice, when visiting Lotus Hall, 
 was to make her way through the dividing hedge 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 207 
 
 as of yore, across the lawn, and into- the morning- 
 room by one of the large windows which opened 
 to the ground. She thus met no strangers, nor 
 hardly a servant. If Mrs Agnew were not present 
 at the moment, the girl would take up a book and 
 absorb herself in that. She was, to-day, nestling 
 among the cushions of a large arm-chair, with her 
 eyes cast upon the pages, when the door opened 
 quietly. She looked up with a smile, and rose, as 
 she thought, to greet Helen ; but seeing instead 
 her lover, she was so startled as to let drop the 
 book and give a deep sigh, as her heart beat with 
 great thumps. He approached to fold her in his 
 arms, but her eyes were downcast, and her hands 
 clasped in front of her as when they met on that 
 night. He exclaimed, — 
 
 1 Dear little sweetheart, is there no welcome ? ' 
 
 ' I fear your presence/ she answered ; ' we are 
 alone. I know not in what guise you come. My 
 one secret has been very painful, and seems to 
 have divided me from my mother — my beloved 
 mother. I cannot have more. Have mercy, and 
 refrain, if you are only trifling.' 
 
 She half raised her clasped hands in an implor- 
 ing manner, and looked so timid and forlorn that 
 it only needed one glance of her beseeching eyes, 
 which she raised to his, to make Charles Gray 
 catch her in a tight embrace, to give the comfort 
 which real love can. He seated himself in the 
 arm-chair which she had occupied, and drew her 
 on to his knee, saying, — 
 
 ' I am here to tell you, darling, that I am true 
 to you as any man can be, I have come to look 
 for a little wife,' pressing his lips to hers. ' I wonder 
 if you have thought in this sense of our love ? Are 
 
2o3 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 you serious as I am, or is it only a little maid's 
 fancy that I have mistaken for love? 5 
 
 She could not, for emotion, reply at once, but 
 reclined her head upon his shoulder, and, in 
 broken words, answered, — 
 
 'Until life ends my love is yours, dear, dear 
 Charles! All else may change. I never will. 
 But I see much trouble. If you cannot face it, 
 and should repent, I release you. I will be as 
 I was, but your memory will always be as bright 
 as now.' He reassured her by patting and smooth- 
 ing her cheek, and said, — 
 
 ' That will never be. Be true, and we will win 
 against all obstacles. Now, I want you, my little 
 one, to confide in Mrs Agnew, who is a friend to 
 us both. Be guided by her advice. I shall be 
 gone to-morrow, but will return soon if she thinks 
 I ought to see your parents. Ask her this even- 
 ing if you or she should tell them. I have 
 nothing to conceal, but to have you treated 
 harshly would be painful.' 
 
 A footstep in the passage caused the lovers to 
 change their positions, and Helen entered. She 
 laughed at their embarrassment, and said, ' I see 
 too much, I think. I am sorry that I was so 
 punctual. You need not speak, I know that you 
 are more than friends. Come, let us be uncon- 
 strained.' 
 
 She motioned Kirimanica to a chair next hers, 
 and, putting her arm round her, continued, — 
 
 ' So I am going to lose my child, am I ? and to 
 Mr Gray ? May you both be happy ! ' 
 
 The girl did not reply in words, but slipped her 
 hand into that of Helen, and averted her face, 
 looking out of the window. 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 209 
 
 Gray felt pleased with himself that he had taken 
 his long-premeditated leap, and, still more, that 
 Mrs Agnew had accepted the situation so cordi- 
 ally. After tea he left the other two, as he knew 
 they desired to discuss the situation. 
 
 It was arranged between Helen and her little 
 friend that the former should see her mother and 
 explain all, although it seemed to Kirimanica to be 
 a mightily hazardous step, and she faltered much 
 before she was brought to acquiesce in it. The 
 disclosure probably would create a terrible rift in 
 the hitherto undivided affection that had existed 
 between mother and daughter, all the worse be- 
 cause wholly unexpected. She knew that were 
 her lover one of her own class and race no great 
 objection would be offered, but an Englishman in 
 that position would be undreamt of. So long 
 they sat that the sky had reddened and the dark 
 shadows were spreading as the girl reluctantly 
 sauntered back to her quiet home, with the music 
 of his voice in her ears, and his kisses, as it were, 
 still lingering upon her lips. 
 
 After dinner, in a corner of the verandah, Agnew 
 and Caselli were let into the secret. The latter 
 was pleased with the romantic aspect of the affair, 
 and applauded the courage shown by Gray ; but 
 then the wisdom of the world was not that of the 
 artist, who set no limit to the extravagance of 
 human affections. He was only restrained by 
 politeness from inquiring the details of the story, 
 but in their absence his fervid imagination con- 
 jured up in vivid colours the little drama in four 
 acts. However, it was not only the poetical sug- 
 gestiveness of the situation that touched his fancy. 
 He had the quick discernment that reads char- 
 
 O 
 
210 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 acter at short notice, and he saw in these two the 
 dispositions that would blend harmoniously. 
 
 After Helen had finished a short exposition of 
 the matter, and concluded with asking their advice 
 upon the next step that should be taken, Caselli 
 rose and went to where Gray was strolling on the 
 lawn, smoking a cigar, and patting him on the 
 shoulder, said, — 
 
 ' My dear boy, I congratulate you heartily upon 
 the excellence of your choice. I am one without 
 prejudices of caste and race. I think my own 
 daughter, who is half Italian, half English, bears 
 sufficiently good testimony that considerations of 
 that sort are superfluous. I admit that your own 
 case is an extreme one. If you had been a rake 
 I should have said that you were only about to 
 gather another pretty blossom, which would be 
 thrown aside when enjoyed. But that is not so. 
 You are upright, honourable, a Christian — so I 
 believe, I am sure — and you will value that sweet, 
 refined, little soul, whose love has been attracted 
 to you, and who, although of the Orient, has the 
 gentle breeding that commands admiration in our 
 own country, and the matchless charms that you 
 might elsewhere go far to find. With your manly 
 forbearance you will know how to pardon her 
 ignorance and inexperience, and to wound not 
 that devoted heart. Be kind to her as you would 
 to a timid fawn.' 
 
 They shook hands cordially. But Gray was not 
 to get off so easily with Agnew, who, when the 
 idea of this marriage was first mentioned, had 
 emphatically said that it was preposterous, and 
 not to be thought of seriously. 
 
 Their host called to Caselli to come into the 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 211 
 
 drawing-room, where the piano lights were turned 
 on, and Helen's fingers gliding over the notes, and 
 bade him stimulate the wife to sing the ballads 
 that would recall the sweet days at Heath Lodge, 
 and then Agnew himself took charge of Gray, and 
 marched vigorously with him, arm-in-arm, up and 
 down the verandah. He entered upon the subject 
 at once by saying, — 
 
 ' Gray, my dear fellow, you know what we are 
 all thinking about now that you have given us 
 your confidence. It will be respected, but will 
 you let me speak to you candidly upon this 
 subject ? ' 
 
 1 Certainly,' was the answer. ' I have come 
 down here to consult you, but not to be dis- 
 suaded : to take advice as to methods to be em- 
 ployed. But I am not reluctant to hear your 
 entire opinion.' 
 
 'Well, now, let me say, that I think you are 
 contemplating a step which, when irrevocably 
 taken, you will regret. A pretty, innocent, and 
 simple little native girl has fallen in love with 
 you, the first Englishman with whom she has ever 
 come into contact. You have reciprocated the 
 feeling, attracted by her childlike devotion, and 
 the perfection — I use the term as quite applicable 
 — the perfection of her physical charms, which 
 might well cause the pulses of many a man to beat 
 high, I admit. Will your affection last, think 
 you, when sensual gratification palls? and will 
 not the slavish worship which she will lavish upon 
 you come, in time, to bore you ? Reflect well 
 upon it. Then, again, you are going to form an 
 alliance with an obscure Singhalese family, the 
 members of whom know nothing of English 
 
212 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 habits or of Western culture, the mother being 
 wholly uneducated, in the sense in which we use 
 the term, although, no doubt, an excellent house- 
 wife and an affectionate parent to the girl. You 
 will, I anticipate, in approaching them upon this 
 delicate matter, experience a repulse which will be 
 mortifying. They have their own peculiar pride 
 and prejudice, they desire no alliance for the girl 
 with an English suitor, and will be profoundly 
 suspicious of your intentions. We know you. 
 They do not. And how about the reception your 
 future wife will meet with from your own people, 
 accustomed to the exclusive society of the county, 
 and respecting its traditions as inviolable rules? 
 And how will they view the children who may be 
 born to you, coloured with Oriental hue ? I am 
 sure, you must feel, that they would be strongly 
 opposed to the marriage which you contemplate. 
 I have, perhaps, spoken too strongly, but, as a 
 friend, you will pardon it. I urge you to reflect 
 upon future possibilities. If you cannot at once 
 withdraw with honour, absent yourself from 
 Ceylon for a period, and give time for you and 
 she to think, and, perhaps, to cool.' 
 
 Gray heard him quietly, and even thanked him 
 for his considerate advice. He remarked, — 
 
 ■ Agnew, I feel quite well that your arguments 
 are forcible, and would be equally applicable to 
 any cross alliance. But I love the child, and that 
 much has passed between us which has taught her 
 that she is to be my wife ; of how soon, or how 
 late, we have not spoken. Everyone who has 
 committed himself to an intended marriage has 
 misgivings as to the wisdom of the step he has 
 taken, I fancy. But the fact is, all have to admit 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 213 
 
 that imperfections must exist in matrimonial 
 affairs as well as in all our other relations in life, 
 and must be ignored if trifling, or repaired if 
 serious. I am, I know, in the eyes of the world, 
 making a terrible mistake in this business, but 
 I am resolved to go through with it. I believe 
 that I can be happy with this sweet little soul, 
 who has the freshness of the early primrose, which 
 not many, unfortunately, possess ; and she, I think, 
 has riveted her affection upon a future with me. 
 I believe, also, that I have the moral strength to 
 guide her and to develop her character in the 
 direction in which we like to see it manifested in 
 the West. In that aspect I am a little perplexed. 
 She is too young and untutored to be at once 
 snatched away from her quiet home and forced to 
 the duties of a wife, in a completely new station, 
 and, perhaps, to the responsibilities of a mother. 
 Here, I think, Mrs Agnew can advise me. But, 
 believe me, I am also grateful to you for your 
 kindly meant intervention.' 
 
 Agnew laughed, and replied, — 
 ' 1 see that your mind was made up before you 
 came to Colombo. We must now try to assist 
 you in your plans, which I had hoped, myself, 
 might have been different. However, yet, I may 
 be able to congratulate you, if you will wait and 
 refrain from precipitancy. We are going to Eng- 
 land shortly, when Casselli's brush has stamped 
 the beauties of the island upon canvas. Kiri- 
 manica shall come too. The engagement shall, 
 if you wish it, be declared. But I think that, 
 for a year or two, you should remain at your 
 post.' 
 
 'There is nothing/ Gray observed, 'which 
 
2i 4 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 I should better like than the arrangement you 
 propose. No lady other than Mrs Agnew could 
 exhibit more sympathy than she does with my 
 little girl, nor could any other bring a better 
 influence to bear upon her. One thing you will 
 not mind my mentioning. She and I are of the 
 Christian faith. Had it been otherwise, I should 
 have suppressed the first symptoms of this rising 
 feeling. With her the confession is a secret one, 
 and conviction came, one would say, by a mere 
 accident — a chance visit to St Lucia's Cathedral. 
 Her parents are Buddhists, and she has felt uneasy 
 about announcing to them her change of belief. 
 That must be disclosed, but, at the moment, what 
 I wished to say, with some hesitation, was, that 
 I long for these early religious impressions to be 
 accentuated and not to be obliterated. Your kind 
 proposal has relieved my mind much, and I am 
 deeply grateful to you, but — ' 
 
 1 Have no fear,' Agnew interposed, ' although 
 I allow that most of us, in our society, carefully 
 veil our most profound thoughts from each other, 
 and are commonly content to be commonplace, 
 and to be misunderstood, so that you, yourself, 
 know little of our religious convictions — have no 
 fear but that Kirimanica will have a good example 
 before her in my wife. I would only say this to 
 a respected friend like yourself. At one time, 
 I think, we were hardly serious, except in com- 
 passing worldly success ; but something happened 
 which brought home to us the sublime lessons of 
 the Great Teacher that we used to hear and to lisp 
 when at our mothers' knees, and in those words 
 we have found a unity of feeling which comes as 
 a new experience. It seems to me that we are 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 215 
 
 learning the faith like this gentle little girl of 
 yours, and that we shall help each other.' 
 
 Before they separated that night it was 
 arranged that Mrs Agnew should see Mrs Pana- 
 bokki privately and apprise her of the attach- 
 ment between her daughter and Mr Gray. The 
 latter departed for Matila by an early train. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 Helen had heard from Kirimanica that the time 
 most convenient for visitors at their cottage was 
 in the afternoon. The early part of the day was 
 given up to such domestic duties as mending 
 clothes and linen, and the preparation of 
 comestibles. The lady of the house would, at 
 such times, be in old apparel, and with hair rather 
 unkempt, and jewellery would be laid aside. But 
 in recognised ' calling ' hours, a fine linen bodice, 
 adorned with delicate lace, and a bright coloured, 
 flowered, silk nether garment, white stockings, and 
 patent leather shoes would be assumed. 
 
 So it was about four o'clock in the afternoon 
 that Helen drove round in a rickshaw, feeling 
 rather hot and uncomfortable from the nature 
 of her errand and the anticipated difficulty of 
 expressing herself well in the peculiar circum- 
 stances of the case. 
 
 Upon sending her card in by Antone, who was 
 trimming the trellis of lycopodium in the porch, 
 she was admitted, and waited fully ten minutes 
 for the lady she sought, who was occupied in 
 putting on her choicest jewels, as a mark of 
 respect for so distinguished a visitor. 
 
 Upon entering, Kirimanica's mother bowed 
 awkwardly, but Mrs Agnew rose and offered her 
 hand, which, however, was received shyly and 
 coldly. The latter remarked, — 
 
 216 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 217 
 
 ' I am hardly a stranger to you, Mrs Panabokki, 
 since I have heard often of you from your daughter, 
 whom I regard as a dear little friend. That I have 
 not come before is due to doubt as to being wel- 
 come. I am glad to find you at home, and to 
 make your acquaintance.' 
 
 'You are not unwelcome/ was the reply, 'but 
 we see no English ladies, and, in the manner of 
 our country, scarcely know how to receive them. 
 But it pleases me to see one who has been kind to 
 our beloved child, and one whom she respects, and 
 from whom she has gained good.' 
 
 Helen felt every minute more reluctant to touch 
 upon the subject which had brought her to the 
 house, but forced herself to introduce it. She 
 said, — 
 
 ' Kirimanica is of quite unusual a character, and 
 does credit to those who have brought her up. She 
 seems to have acquired attainments beyond those 
 of many of our own girls of her age, and yet to 
 have preserved her innocent simplicity, which is so 
 engaging a feature in her disposition. Do you 
 never reflect, Mrs Panabokki, that all she has 
 learnt, and is still learning, rather tends to aspira- 
 tions beyond those of her fellows in this country ? ' 
 
 The mother sighed, and looked upon the ground, 
 speaking slowly and painfully. 
 
 ' Such it is, alas ! we have been disappointed 
 already that her parents' wishes are not law to 
 her ; and I seem to feel that she withholds her 
 trust from her humble and ignorant mother in 
 some ways. Something outside her home life ap- 
 pears to engage her thoughts, and I find it hard to 
 recall the child of even a year ago ! ' 
 
 There were tears in her eyes, and Helen felt 
 
218 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 remorse at having lent herself in any way to the 
 concealment of the great secret. 
 
 ' I am sorry for you/ she observed. ' I am sure 
 that it must be painful ; but do not lose hope. I 
 think it is possible that you may help her in a way 
 that you have not anticipated, and again engage her 
 whole confidence. The girl, I believe, has learned 
 to love in a new way.' 
 
 She paused, while the elder woman looked up 
 bewildered and alarmed, clasping her hands spas- 
 modically and ejaculating, breathlessly, — 
 
 ' How ? Tell me ! ' 
 
 Helen was playing nervously with her rings, and 
 felt terribly ill at ease, but replied, — 
 
 ' I have reason to think, indeed, to know, for I 
 am privy to the circumstances, that a young English- 
 man—you have his acquaintance — has bestowed 
 his love upon her, in strict honour, and that it is 
 reciprocated. I need not conceal his name, for I 
 have his authority to be here to-day. He is Mr 
 Gray of Matila ! ' 
 
 The Singhalese woman had started to her feet, 
 her whole countenance wearing an expression of 
 profound anxiety and perplexity. Her dark eyes 
 were gazing out to sea, away to the far horizon, as if 
 to pierce the secrets of the dark future, her arms were 
 straightened and rigid by her side, and the hands 
 clenched. For a few moments she was speechless, 
 and then, turning towards Helen, she exclaimed, — 
 
 ' Holy Buddha ! No harm has been done to the 
 child ? ' 
 
 1 Be at rest,' was the answer ; ' he is a gentleman, 
 and a Christian, and seeks to make her his wife.' 
 
 These words seemed to bring some relief to the 
 painful tension the mother experienced, but yet 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 219 
 
 she sank into the chair, and resting her arms upon 
 the table, laid her head upon them and burst into 
 uncontrollable sobs. With her lively sympathy 
 and keen sensibilities Helen was deeply touched, 
 and, crossing the room, put her hand upon the 
 elder woman's shoulder. 
 
 ' Don't be grieved/ she said ; ' the happiness of 
 Manica is involved in this issue. They love each 
 other well, and, if I can interpret feelings, will 
 never yield each other up. Try to be calm, and 
 accept what is now past recall.' 
 
 The mother, so absorbed in her sorrow, hardly 
 listened or gathered the meaning of Helen's speech. 
 She murmured, still in the same attitude, — 
 
 ' Our child is gone from us, robbed from our 
 home; the sunshine of life gone for ever! Oh, 
 lady! has it been through you that this tempta- 
 tion has been thrown in her way? Would that 
 she had never strayed to your house ! ' 
 
 Helen, still endeavouring to soothe her with 
 gentle touches, answered, — 
 
 'You mistake. Mr Gray, until yesterday, had 
 only met your daughter once in my house, and 
 that was in my presence. The attachment began 
 in this very place, on that evening when he lay, 
 sorely hurt, upon this sofa, and you tended him. 
 The child admired him, and now adores him, and 
 he reciprocates it. Be brave, and face what is 
 now inevitable. These two souls will be united 
 despite all obstacles. Help them if you can, and 
 let there be no symptom of displeasure, which may 
 make a spot upon the sweet girl's memory of her 
 well-loved home.' 
 
 ' If it were I alone,' said the mother, 'who should 
 decide, I might yield, for the child of my womb is 
 
2 2o A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 the jewel of my eye, a pearl of all pearls, and the 
 sun of my existence ; but you know not my hus- 
 band. He will never consent. I fear even to dis- 
 close this secret to him, lest his anger may be 
 visited upon the child.' She sank suddenly upon 
 her knees, and threw her arms round Helen's skirts, 
 exclaiming, with streaming eyes, ' Have mercy 
 upon me, her mother ! You are good and clever, 
 and powerful. Avert this disaster ! Find some 
 means by which this idle fancy, which bodes evil, 
 may be quenched and forgotten ! It may be that 
 you have promise of that which, still unborn, may 
 make you feel for one who has a child who is 
 dearer than all the world. Leave me not without 
 this promise ! ' 
 
 ' It cannot be/ said Helen, half inclined to cry 
 herself, and strangely moved at the reference to 
 her own hopes. ' I feel a woman's sympathy for 
 you, but I am pledged to help the lovers, and I came 
 here to make their way smooth. Rise, I beg of 
 you ; I am unworthy to be thus stooped to. I must 
 say farewell. But there is one more word to speak. 
 It cannot be that you are ignorant of the change in 
 Kirimanica's faith ? That it is in Christ she trusts ? ' 
 
 1 1 knew it not wholly, but in part. All is good 
 which the Lord Buddha and Christ teach. But we 
 do not speak of Christ here, and Manica has made 
 no confession. It cannot be that each faith leads 
 different ways, and to be hereafter with those we 
 have loved seems the brightest hope for us un- 
 happy mortals. The infant soul, part of my own 
 being, that took wings some years ago to another 
 world, leads my thoughts above earthly things. In 
 all mercy I hope to clasp my babe again to my 
 bosom in the next life. It is a grief that a child 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 221 
 
 should depart from the faith of her fathers, but 
 the teaching of the schools brings many changes. 
 Still she is good, and still I see her grow better. 
 But to lose her love, for her to get to despise her 
 old home, to cease remembrance of her father and 
 mother — these thoughts bring me near to the grave. 
 Think well before you encourage her to take a 
 step which will bring eternal sorrow upon this 
 humble house.' 
 
 ' I mentioned this only,' continued Helen, ' be- 
 cause both he and she are one in the Christian 
 faith, and that communion of feeling will make 
 them inseparable in heart, although, carnally, they 
 may never be wedded. I think, when you are 
 calmer, you will see that it is best to persuade 
 yourself and your husband to accept this proposed 
 marriage, in regard to which I am really an envoy. 
 Dismiss prejudice from your minds and think what 
 is best for her. Good-bye ! May I ask you to let 
 me know what message I should send to Mr Gray ? ' 
 
 Mrs Panabokki detained her hand, saying, in an 
 anxious whisper, — 
 
 ' Is it a public matter? and who has been made 
 aware of their attachment? Have they met 
 privily ? ' 
 
 ' It is known to me, to my husband, and to my 
 father, but I cannot say whether anyone else shares 
 the secret with us. I am sure that Mr Gray has 
 not communicated it to another soul.' 
 
 The troubled mother smoothed her hair with her 
 hand, and Helen left her standing in an attitude 
 of dejection — almost of despair — again gazing out 
 over the waves. 
 
 Kirimanica returned shortly afterwards from 
 school, and ran up the steps with an elasticity in 
 
222 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 her graceful form and a love-born happiness in her 
 eyes, which had come to her in a noticeable way 
 since her interview with her lover. All was clear, 
 and truth had prevailed. 
 
 In a glance she saw that something was very 
 wrong with her mother, and, throwing her arms 
 round her neck, sought to discover her thoughts. 
 
 ' Dear love,' said the latter, ' I am in trouble, but 
 I will not talk now. I will tell you later. You do 
 not forget mother ? ' stroking her hair, ' and nothing 
 has come into your life to make you change ? ' 
 
 The girl looked down, and the red colour showed 
 through the dark skin of her cheeks. She was 
 bound to secrecy as yet, she thought ; but the re- 
 flection seemed to create a great barrier between 
 her and the loved parent. 
 
 1 No, dearest mother ; and yet — ' she stammered, 
 ' the clouds and sunshine come and go in the heart 
 like they do in the sky. I have feelings which no 
 one — no, I mean some one — not quite that either — 
 which others share. Childhood is gone far away. 
 I will tell you all — when there is time.' 
 
 She sat herself upon her mother's knee, and laid 
 her head upon the other's bosom, striving to hide 
 the burning tint of her cheeks — even of her brow. 
 Had she but met her mother's eyes she would 
 have seen that all was known. 
 
 1 Mother, I rest ! Be kind to your poor child 
 if things are different from what they were. Should 
 others fail, may this be my refuge ! ' 
 
 The elder woman patted her and kissed her 
 passionately again and again upon the soft, wavy 
 tresses, and then, feeling that any moment her 
 husband might return from the Courts, she dis- 
 missed the girl to a friend's house for the evening. 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 223 
 
 Panabokki came in at his usual hour, weary with 
 the tedium of an intricate land case, and with the 
 oppressive atmosphere of a crowded court. He 
 exchanged his black coat for a silk jacket, and sat 
 down to a cigar and a cup of tea. 
 
 His wife felt herself trembling with apprehension 
 as to how he might receive the terrible tale which 
 she was to unfold to him. The more she hesitated 
 to begin the more frightened she became, for she 
 well knew how stern and unbending he could be 
 when deeply-rooted prejudice was affected. She 
 determined, at last, to describe what had passed 
 during Mrs Agnew's visit, as most likely to soften 
 that which, communicated abruptly, might be 
 painful in its effect, and in its consequences too. 
 
 Upon hearing that the lady had been there, he 
 expressed approval, and seemed to think the action 
 a polite one ; but when he came to hear of what 
 had been disclosed about the mutual attachment 
 of Kirimanica and Charles Gray, he was speechless 
 from astonishment and indignation combined. He 
 could place only one construction upon the motive 
 which caused a handsome young Englishman, in 
 a good position, to take notice of a pretty but 
 obscure little Singhalese girl, and in this thought 
 his anger was boundless. He had tutored himself 
 to suppress his feelings, however, so he spoke not 
 at the moment, but rose from his seat, walked to 
 the door and looked out. It was after a long 
 interval that he turned, the perspiration standing 
 upon his brow, and said, — 
 
 1 We have been wrongly guided in permitting 
 the child to go over to that house. I see, too, that 
 I was unwise to bring him here into your presence, 
 and before her. The evil must be undone ! Have 
 
224 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 you questioned Manica? What has passed be- 
 tween them? Is it that the child has been 
 harmed ? ' 
 
 The last query was in a hoarse whisper, and 
 betrayed the agony of an awful suspicion. His 
 wife answered, — 
 
 ' Our daughter has lately been in my arms like 
 an innocent bird, laying her head upon my breast. 
 Be easy, she is corrupted with no taint of evil. 
 But that she loves this gentleman who offers her 
 marriage I see in her eyes. Oh, husband, it is a 
 sad day ! I should have kept her in her own 
 home, and if in ignorance it is I who have brought 
 this to pass, forgive me ! ' 
 
 She was surprised that he was so calm, having 
 expected an outburst of temper, but his calmness 
 was born of a determination to deal with what he 
 foresaw to be a great difficulty. He said, — 
 
 ' We must act, and act soon, to secure the child 
 against harm and misery. I will think. I cannot 
 bring myself to be harsh to her, but her future 
 must be provided for, and this folly frustrated.' 
 
 He went away to his own room, and remained 
 secluded there for some hours. When he returned 
 his wife was sewing, and his daughter engaged with 
 her books. The latter rose to welcome her father, 
 but he received her caress more coldly than usual. 
 
 Having seated himself, he summoned her to 
 stand before him, which somewhat alarmed her 
 and made her quiver all over. He said, — 
 
 ' Kirimanica, you have deceived your mother and 
 myself in keeping us ignorant of the attachment 
 between you and Mr Gray. It makes me sad to 
 think that the trust we had in you has been mis- 
 placed, and that the quality of your love is base.' 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 225 
 
 She started and exclaimed passionately, — ' Oh, 
 father! I have never sought to keep one secret 
 from you and mother, but I could not tell you of 
 what was in my breast when my lover first lay in 
 this house, nor when he told me that he loved me 
 could I tell his secret, for he gave me no leave. I 
 was ashamed to say what I felt. It seems to me 
 that you cannot know a girl's feelings. Now that 
 he has asked me in marriage, the kind lady of 
 Lotus Hall said that she would tell mother. You 
 must not say that my love for you is untrue. It 
 has never changed nor flagged. It has been a pain 
 to me that I have had that in my heart which I 
 might not tell to you and mother. If you judge 
 me to have been wrong, forgive me, or even 
 punish me, if you will.' 
 
 She spoke so pathetically, with the tears dropping 
 from her lids, that her mother bid her sit upon her 
 lap, and clasped her in her arms. 
 
 Panabokki was moved too, and strode up and 
 down the room. But he was not to be shaken in 
 his resolution. He continued, — 'The marriage 
 with Mr Gray can never take place. He must be 
 forgotten. Be thankful that in this affair you 
 have preserved your innocence. I have deter- 
 mined to send you for a time to the convent of 
 Santa Lucia. Show your love and obedience to 
 your parents by breaking off all communication 
 with Mr Gray and deferring in all things to the 
 Lady Superior.' 
 
 He had a secret hope that the girl's religious 
 feelings might find satisfaction in her new life, 
 and, perhaps, that she might experience con- 
 solation in being permanently united, later on, to 
 the sisterhood. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 Helen Agnew was sitting at the piano next 
 afternoon in a reverie, while her ringers carelessly 
 strayed over the keys. The lotus leaves were 
 waving in the wind, and her eyes were cast upon 
 them, but were really looking far beyond into the 
 region of futurity. Something was approaching 
 which made her think seriously, while she was 
 at the same time permeated by a profound joy. 
 It was something in which she was to renew 
 her being and to live again. That was the 
 uppermost thought, and, at such a crisis, what 
 woman is not absorbed in these ideas? Next 
 she was rather sad, because the faithful Antone 
 had disclosed to her what had passed in the 
 Panabokki family circle, and of the banishment of 
 Kirimanica that morning to the convent of Santa 
 Lucia. Her little friend, she thought, was lost to 
 her, and probably to Mr Charles Gray too. Had 
 the Kandyan maid lived a hundred years ago, 
 under the circumstances, she might have dis- 
 appeared for good until the waters of the Mahavelli 
 Ganga surrendered the dead. Perhaps there would 
 be a way out of the difficulty yet, but if it were to 
 be by an act of defiance to the wishes of her parents, 
 Helen felt that she could not help the girl. She 
 loved her own father too well. 
 
 In the midst of these reflections the door was 
 opened, and Mrs Airlie was announced. 
 
 226 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 227 
 
 The sparkling brunette ran up to Helen, clasped 
 both her hands, and kissed her upon the cheek, 
 exclaiming, — 
 
 ' I am glad to see you. I have never forgotten, 
 you know, our conversation of some months ago. 
 Since that, somehow, Jack and I seem to have 
 entered upon a different sort of life. We never 
 have tiffs, and the fondness we had, when we married, 
 for each other has come into new being. He 
 positively told someone that he really thought 
 now that he had fallen in love with his wife. 
 Naughty fellow ! And sometimes he even goes to 
 church with me ! ' 
 
 ' My dear Mrs Airlie/ said Helen, ' you are as 
 flippant as ever, but I am delighted to think it is 
 only your way of expressing yourself. My advice 
 to you was not that which I do not follow myself, 
 and I am sure that you are happier for it. I think 
 that we both now realise what marriage means. 
 Is it not so ? ' 
 
 * Well, yes, perhaps, but I would rather not be 
 pressed too much. Wait and I will answer you 
 later. It means a great deal, that is all ! ' 
 
 ' I guessed so. You have a secret which you want 
 to keep. It is a precious one, no doubt, and one 
 that is the more cherished that it is your very own.' 
 
 1 1 am embarrassed,' said the visitor ; ' let us 
 change the subject, please. Do you know, I have 
 been quite anxious to ascertain whether you had 
 heard the news, which I can hardly believe, that Mr 
 Gray is going to marry a Singhalese girl ! As you 
 are a particular friend of his you must be aware 
 whether this is true or not ? ' 
 
 So the affair had leaked out. Of course, it was 
 through the servants. 
 
228 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 Mrs Agnew was confused, and hesitated to 
 reply. 
 
 ' I cannot say,' she replied, ( that it is absolutely 
 true ; I am not in a position to say so. He does 
 not tell me everything that concerns him, and I 
 know that he cultivates social acquaintance with 
 the natives of Ceylon which might be miscon- 
 strued. I think people might wait until the 
 persons concerned make an announcement of this 
 sort before anticipating it and making it a matter 
 of gossip.' 
 
 ' Well, it is a thing that is being talked about at 
 the club and on the croquet ground. I daresay he 
 will deny it if it is not true.' 
 
 Here Mrs Airlie raised her mirthful eyes to 
 Helen's, and, seeing her perplexity, continued, — 
 
 ' It is true, then ; I need not question you 
 further ; but, believe me, I will not breathe a word 
 about it since it will vex you. But the very idea 
 of such a marriage gives me the horrors. Here is 
 a man, who might have had almost any girl in the 
 island, attempting to throw himself away, doubt- 
 less, upon a pretty little thing, but probably un- 
 tutored and ignorant, allied with natives who 
 retain all their primitive habits, and without two 
 decent ideas to put together. Fancy, when his 
 infatuation passes away, when he finds that he 
 has not even a companion in his wife, who is 
 skilled only in curries and chutnies, whose lithe 
 and elegant figure, in a few years, assumes a 
 grossness and portliness that would become an 
 English matron of fifty-five, who anoints her 
 raven hair with cocoa-nut oil, and chews betel nut ! 
 And the children, if there are any, dusky as 
 sparrows ! How will he look with that fondness and 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 229 
 
 pride upon them that we are accustomed to 
 witness in our homes ? ' 
 
 Mrs Agnew, although vexed, could not help 
 smiling at the skill displayed by Mrs Airlie in de- 
 lineating a not unusual eventuality ; but she warmed 
 in defence of her little friend, and replied, — 
 
 1 The girl of Mr Gray's choice, you may depend 
 upon it, Mrs Airlie, will be one of beauty of mind, 
 of profound soul, as well as of elegance of face and 
 figure, and she certainly will not be without educa- 
 tion that, I admit, is not common. She will also 
 be a lady, even if she be a Singhalese. Although 
 such a marriage may be foreign to our tastes and 
 prejudices, and may be cavilled at by most in our 
 social set, it will not be Mr Gray who will repent 
 it, I feel sure. And now, let me ask you, who have 
 a good heart, suppose it should come to pass that 
 such a marriage were contemplated, as a friend of 
 mine, for I should be personally interested in it, 
 try to give it your countenance, to give them 
 both your sympathy, and to excuse it, when you 
 hear it discussed and perhaps abused. Be kind ! 
 How happy would the world be if no unkind 
 thing were done or said ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, Helen/ exclaimed Mrs Airlie, ' there is 
 no withstanding the influence of your sweet nature ! 
 I often think, in some ways, you are like a golden- 
 haired angel dropped from heaven. One of my man 
 friends said one day that all women were of a later 
 and more spiritual creation than his own sex, and 
 that it was only the brutal passions of man that 
 dragged us down to their level. But I do not 
 think that we are all angels. Some are, and you 
 seem to live on a plane where everything is good 
 and nothing mean. One feels, after being with 
 
2 3 o A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 you, as if the fragrant and cool sea breeze had 
 tempered the heat of our evil promptings.' 
 
 ' I cannot claim to take all you say for myself,' 
 said Helen, ' but listen. One evening we were in 
 great trouble. It seemed that our way in life was 
 to be for ever in the dark valley of disappointed 
 hopes, and that no bright gleam of the coming 
 dawn was ever to shine through the leafy shades 
 that made it difficult even to see our path. But 
 that evening we lighted upon a few words in this 
 blessed book,' taking it in her hand from the table, 
 ' when the dayspring from on high opened to us the 
 eternal summer which will never end. You may 
 say that this is imaginative, even hysterical, but I tell 
 you that no worldly trouble now disturbs the calm 
 peace which reigns in our hearts, and if I thought 
 I could teach it to you, which I cannot, I should 
 think I had done an act with which no worldly 
 success can compare. Our faith has taught us to 
 be kind. That is what I would say to you, and 
 pray you to be also to the poor girl, to him, to 
 others, if you can, of the gentle races with whom 
 we mingle, but of whom we know and think so 
 little.' 
 
 I Dear Mrs Agnew, you always teach me some- 
 thing good when I come here. Excuse me for 
 saying so, but I think you have changed since you 
 first came to Colombo. Like the rest of us, I 
 think you must have started with many prejudices. 
 I will try to overcome mine and be generous, and 
 in the case of this particular young lady I will, for 
 your sake, make the first advance, and try to 
 conciliate her.' 
 
 I I believe that I have changed. I know that I 
 have. I used to float carelessly upon the stream 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 231 
 
 of life, plucking the gay blossoms that came 
 within my reach, little heeding the sorrows 
 and the labours of the multitude whose work 
 contributed to my happiness. I am sure that I 
 have now learned to feel for them. That is what 
 Christ teaches. I know, too, that everything we 
 do should have a serious purpose. That also 
 comes from Christ's precepts. But do not think 
 that my faith makes me stern and gloomy, and 
 intolerant of the weaknesses of others. No, every- 
 thing is the brighter for it. The song of the birds 
 is sweeter, the colours of the flowers more vivid, 
 the changeful hues of the sky more significant, and 
 the love for those who are dear, more pure and 
 true. But I do not mean to preach to you. I 
 only hope you may think, when you have time, 
 of what I say. I am glad if you are well disposed 
 towards the sweet child whose early love, and, I 
 am sure, her only one, for any man, is likely to be 
 embittered.' 
 
 Mrs Airlie had become so interested that she 
 proposed to accompany Mrs Agnew to see 
 Kirimanica. 
 
 ' Is she in Colombo now ? ' she asked ; ' if so, we 
 might go together and call upon the family.' 
 
 ' To satisfy your curiosity,' replied Helen, ' I may 
 be able to show you the girl ; but I should not be 
 welcome at present at her father's house. She is 
 elsewhere. I will order the carriage and we will 
 try if we can get admittance to her.' 
 
 In her youth, and in the utter inexperience she 
 possessed of worldly affairs, and of their tortuous 
 and often tempestuous character, Kirimanica had 
 taken her banishment much to heart, and the 
 thought of an endless separation from her lover 
 
232 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 sent a cold thrill through her, such as those have 
 felt who have laid their last hopes in the mortal 
 grave, and cast their last offerings of flowers upon 
 the turf. She could not be mistaken in her father's 
 resolve. Had it been her mother only with whom 
 she had to deal, she instinctively felt that in the 
 end her longings for her lover, the ruling desire to 
 be for ever in his arms, would have been gratified. 
 But Panabokki was so strong in character, so 
 prejudiced, and, withal, had been so calm and 
 determined in giving his decision, that, unless a 
 miracle occurred, she knew that he would never 
 yield. 
 
 It had rained this evening, and the mist rising 
 from the heated ground caused a flood of golden 
 light at sunset to be shed around. She was sitting 
 at her window in the convent tending the lilies 
 which she had been permitted to bring with her 
 from Colpetty, and sometimes handling the cross 
 which lay upon her bosom — his gift — and one that 
 seemed to have united them in a sense profounder 
 than a mere carnal inclination. She could see the 
 square in front of the imposing cathedral of Santa 
 Lucia, and noticed a carriage, which had arrived 
 and was drawn up at the well-secured portals of 
 the convent. After a time one of the sisters came 
 to her room to summon Kirimanica to see two 
 visitors, who, being ladies, were admitted to the 
 convent. She hastily put on a cambric and lace 
 bodice, and the salmon-coloured silk robe that 
 brought to mind a certain scene at Matila, and 
 descended to find Mrs Agnew and Mrs Airlie in 
 the reception-room. The sister remained present, 
 and remarked, ' The young lady is enjoined not to 
 receive visitors ; the interview must be a short one, 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 233 
 
 as the Reverend Mother Superior has scruples 
 about the entrance of even friends.' 
 
 Mrs Agnew put her arm tenderly round Kiri- 
 manica and kissed her on the forehead and said, — 
 
 ' I am sorry for you, my dear, in your forced 
 seclusion. Cheer up ! There is a better time 
 coming for you, I doubt not. This is my friend, 
 Mrs Airlie, who knows Mr Gray, and is come to 
 make your acquaintance.' 
 
 The girl shook hands rather shyly with the 
 strange lady, who was scrutinising her so closely, 
 for she was rather perplexed at the introduction of 
 Mr Gray's name. Mrs Agnew felt that she must 
 explain. 
 
 1 Mrs Airlie,' she said, ( has heard in Colombo 
 society that Mr Gray has proposed marriage to a 
 Singhalese girl. I suppose these things become 
 known always in a mysterious fashion. Perhaps 
 astrologers reveal them. So I have brought the 
 lady to see the original. She will be kind, and, I 
 hope, one day as good a friend as you have in me. 
 So that if it should ever be, for which we must 
 pray, that you should become his bride, you will 
 not be a stranger among the English.' 
 
 She saw that the tears were ready to drop from 
 the soft, dark eyes, and turned hastily to the 
 window, directing notice to the picturesque streams 
 of people converging to the cathedral for vespers, 
 the heads of the women covered reverentially with 
 lace mantillas or coloured cloth or silk. 
 
 ' I quite envy you these romantic surroundings,' 
 she continued. ' Father would delight in this 
 opportunity. I must send him down with his 
 sketching-book ; and there, look, is a crowd of boys 
 coming out of St Benedict's. A curious mixture 
 
234 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 of East and West ; one might be in Florence or 
 Pisa, with a touch of Oriental colouring added.' 
 
 ' Madam,' observed the sister, ' the young lady 
 must withdraw. The pupils will be assembled for 
 divine service immediately.' 
 
 Kirimanica said, — 
 
 1 I feel your kindness much in coming here, and 
 that of the other lady too. You will think of me, 
 I know, and you will pray for me, will you not ? 
 My father wishes me to see no visitors, so this 
 good-bye is perhaps the last.' 
 
 ' Good-bye, Manica ; I shall convey a message, 
 which I have gathered from your eyes, to a certain 
 person who will not, I am sure, forget you. Time 
 will remove your difficulties. Adieu ! ' 
 
 Mrs Airlie patted the girl kindly on the shoulder, 
 and took her hand, saying, — 
 
 ' Good-bye ! Let us be friends. I shall be glad 
 to help you if I can.' 
 
 Just as the carriage rolled away, the servant, 
 Antone, who had secretly come down from Col- 
 petty, tendered a letter to Kirimanica, who was 
 filing with the pupils of the convent towards the 
 side entrance of the cathedral. She saw that it 
 bore the Matila postmark. It cost her a terrible 
 pang to refuse it, but here, on the threshold of 
 God's temple, her sense of duty to her parents was 
 uppermost, and she said simply, ' I cannot take it ! ' 
 The old man turned away disappointed. She 
 sank down upon her knees in the aisle, tortured 
 with the thought that her lover would think her 
 unfaithful, and the sombre notes of the bell, now 
 tolling in the church tower, seemed the signal of 
 complete severance for her from all earthly hopes. 
 The home of her childhood, and the endless love 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 235 
 
 that she might have had in his embrace were 
 gone. 
 
 ' She seems a nice little puss/ said Mrs Airlie, as 
 they drove towards Colpetty. ' I confess that I 
 have been agreeably surprised in her. She seems 
 to have more depth of character than one expects 
 to find in a child of her age in Ceylon. Her 
 beauty, and the grace of her figure, are undeniable. 
 She will love her husband with the fidelity of a 
 slave. Some men get weary of that. I think they 
 like a little resistance sometimes. Anyhow, when 
 it is not offered, a woman is often thrown aside as 
 worth nothing more, after being fully enjoyed. I 
 do not know whether to hope, or not to hope, for 
 the consummation of a marriage which may be an 
 unfortunate one.' 
 
 ' I have formed a prognostic,' observed Helen, 
 ' that this marriage will be more successful than 
 might be anticipated from the circumstances under 
 which it will take place. Everyone who marries 
 feels regret at times, and the irrevocableness of a 
 union, at first, is often appalling. I do not expect 
 Mr Gray and Manica to be different from others 
 in this sense, but the characters of both are noble 
 and profound, and her education, if it have up to 
 now proceeded slowly, will quickly develop in 
 her new life. You will see that they will easily 
 become reconciled to each other.' 
 
 Antone was so perplexed to know what to do 
 about the letter, which had been rejected by Kiri- 
 manica, that he came over to consult Mrs Agnew 
 about it. She told him that it was undoubtedly 
 addressed in the handwriting of Mr Gray, and that 
 she would return it to Matila with a line of ex- 
 planation, which she did. Gray felt much annoyed, 
 
236 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 even humiliated, that the girl's idea of duty should 
 rise superior to her devotion for him, but he posi- 
 tively began to respect her from that time in a 
 way that he had not done before. She had, as it 
 were, formerly, come to his arms upon a slight 
 invitation, and had even thrown herself upon his 
 mercy, prepared to suffer anything, but to-day, at 
 the dictate of conscience, she was prepared to sup- 
 press her love and to give him up. There were 
 few girls, even in his own society, who would have 
 acted with equally high principle, and the incident 
 caused him to admire her in a way to which he 
 had been previously foreign. 
 
 For the present he saw that any attempt to com- 
 municate by letter or through his friend, Mrs 
 Agnew, would be useless, and, at the same time, 
 ungenerous, and he contented himself with the 
 prospect of personally seeing Kirimanica, when he 
 could next obtain leave, and of persuading her to 
 run away with him. 
 
 But the conclusion of the matter was precipi- 
 tated in an unexpected manner. The old man, 
 Bastian, who had accompanied Kirimanica upon 
 her nocturnal visit to Gray, had expended the 
 money with which she had rewarded him upon a 
 small plot of land, and to get the implements he 
 required for developing his property, had been seek- 
 ing to dispose of a ring which the girl had given 
 to him with other jewellery. The fact became 
 known to the police in Matila, and the suspicion 
 that Bastian had become unlawfully possessed of 
 this article was aroused and acted upon. He was 
 arrested, and detained for examination by Gray 
 himself. For some time Bastian declined to say 
 how the ring was obtained, and inquiry was made 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 237 
 
 throughout the whole town in view of finding the 
 owner. The girl's handkerchief, which had been 
 dropped on the eventful night, was found in the 
 possession of a villager. Some of the Ratema- 
 hatmya's estate servants happened to hear of 
 these occurrences, and upon seeing the ring, 
 easily recognised it as one worn by the chief's 
 niece. Bastian was therefore charged with theft, 
 and in the course of his trial was forced to admit 
 that the girl had given it to him for a service 
 rendered to her. All sorts of rumours spread 
 about the place, and Welletenya, the Ratema- 
 hatmya, becoming uneasy, wrote upon the subject 
 to Panabokki. One story said that the girl had 
 been in the habit of meeting a lover by night, and 
 that Bastian had assisted her, and had been the 
 watchman. The chief recommended that the 
 matter should be sifted, and slander, if possible, 
 silenced. Added to this was the necessity for a 
 legal reference to Kirimanica in the case against 
 Bastian, and in regard to the lost handkerchief. 
 She received the intelligence of it with a thrill of 
 horror, knowing how her little indiscretion, com- 
 mitted solely in view to help Rambanda, would be 
 misconstrued by everybody. She admitted that 
 she had given the ring to Bastian, and hoped that 
 he would be released ; also that she had accidentally 
 dropped the handkerchief. She was not at the 
 moment required to say more, and the old man 
 was set at large. But for the whole of that day 
 she was alternately turning hot and cold in prospect 
 of the shame that would attach to her name, and 
 which would be felt by her parents. At the cathe- 
 dral services she prayed ever the more fervently 
 that she might be supported and guided in this her 
 
238 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 severest trial, and find that, the only real peace that 
 exists, in the faith which had been revealed to her. 
 She had often thought that could she but live in 
 the love of Christ alone the earthly hopes which 
 had been built up upon the basis of a carnal 
 passion might be abandoned with little regret, and 
 at this moment it seemed that the terrible dis- 
 closure at Matila would forcibly rend them from 
 her. It was true that Gray was conscious of her 
 purity, but if everything were known about her 
 secret visit to him, and judged as the world judges, 
 how could he stoop to marry one who would be 
 sneered and pointed at as a girl who had volun- 
 tarily sought him out to throw her maiden charms 
 at his feet ? 
 
 The perspiration stood in beads upon her brow 
 at the thought of the disgrace which awaited 
 her, and the anguish which would be experienced 
 by her father and mother. She pictured her- 
 self as lost to all friends, and perhaps, even 
 in the convent, as separated, fallen and contami- 
 nated, from the other inmates. In the solitude 
 of her room she recapitulated all the circum- 
 stances of that memorable night. Her motive at 
 the time had been well weighed. It was to save 
 Rambanda, and it was a good one. She had acted 
 in such single-mindedness that she had been able 
 to implore the blessing of Heaven upon her mis- 
 sion. But she remembered that in Gray's presence 
 she had been weak. She had lost herself for a 
 few moments in the eddy of human passion. He 
 might have taken full possession of her and she 
 could hardly have resisted. That she could not 
 forget, nor would he, and if she were urged to 
 explain what took place, what would be thought 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 239 
 
 of her ? She pleaded indisposition that day, and 
 remained in her room, racked with painful appre- 
 hension as to what was coming next, and hardly 
 strong enough in her faith to find the consolation 
 in prayer which she thought to have experienced. 
 It was the darkest day in her life. 
 
 The reddened sky was fast merging into the 
 purple and grey of fading twilight, and the dim 
 oil lamps that flank St Lucia's square were alit, 
 when the door softly opened and admitted the 
 girl's mother. The latter could hardly find her 
 way into the dark room, but Kirimanica, hearing 
 the well-known voice, arose from her couch and 
 set light to the brass lamp that swung from the 
 roof. 
 
 1 1 needed a light, my child,' said the wife of 
 Panabokki, ' for I can read in your face more 
 than you can tell me with your lips. Come here, 
 my gentle dove ! ' 
 
 There was a prayer mat on the floor, under the 
 lamp, which faced the crucifix upon the wall. The 
 mother sat upon this and called her daughter 
 to her knees. She took the girl's face between 
 her two hands and gazed earnestly into the tear- 
 stained eyes. 
 
 'Knowest thou what is said in Matila?' she 
 asked. ■ One day it is that thou hast had a lover 
 to meet thee by night in the woods of Mahaganga. 
 Next day that thou hast yielded thyself to the 
 English gentleman to procure the escape of Ram- 
 banda. I believe not all, for I see thy innocence 
 still in thy baby face ; but thou wilt tell thy fond 
 mother the truth, wilt thou not ? ' 
 
 So, with her head lying upon the shoulder of the 
 elder woman, Kirimanica whispered the story of 
 
2 4 o A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 the night after Rambanda's arrest. How that, 
 being so sanguine of success, she had resolved to 
 keep her intention secret at the time from her own 
 mother, for fear that her audacious attempt might 
 be stopped. She told all, even how she had lain 
 in Gray's arms, and had been caressed. When 
 she came to an end, she said, — 
 
 ' Mother. I feel I should do quite the same 
 for Rambanda could I go back again to that night 
 at the Walawa My obedience is due to you, but 
 I did what I thought was right before God. I 
 have done no wrong wherewith to blame myself. 
 If the world cry shame, that is for me to bear. 
 My love is given to him who has asked me to be 
 his wife. I shall love no other. I shall carry his 
 image in my heart for ever. Separated we may 
 be in this life, but in another those spirits shall 
 be in communion which could not be united 
 here.' 
 
 •Child, dear and only child,' half sobbed her 
 mother, ' thine ill-judged attempt at Mahaganga 
 has plunged us into disgrace. We believe thee, but 
 the world thinks few things pure. Thy father is 
 much cast down. The Ratemahatmya has been 
 angered by the spiteful gossip of the bazaar and 
 the fair fame of our family being thus dragged to 
 the dust. But thy lover has been honourable. A 
 letter came this evening to Panabokki. In this he 
 says that he has made public the fact that you 
 came to see him to implore the release of Ram- 
 banda. This he refused to listen to. That you 
 came and went under escort. That you entered 
 his house as a personal friend and a lady of gentle 
 quality, having had his previous acquaintance in 
 Colombo, and that you are now betrothed to him, 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 241 
 
 and will receive from his friends all the considera- 
 tion due to his future wife.' 
 
 Here the girl stood up proudly, as if fully vindi- 
 cated, went to the open window, looking upward 
 to the noble dome of the cathedral, which was 
 silvered by the rising moon, looking far beyond to 
 the starry vault, resplendent with a myriad gems, 
 and threw up her arms, as she leant out, in mani- 
 festation of her heartfelt praise to the Divine. She 
 turned, with a new flush upon her cheek, ex- 
 claiming, — 
 
 1 Mother, is he not a man after God's heart? If 
 thy daughter is to leave thee, is it not to his arms 
 thou wouldst trust her ? He might have said our 
 marriage cannot outlive this scandal. But no ! he- 
 is too true, too noble ! ' 
 
 Her mother watched her with pride as she 
 walked up and down the room, her lovely face 
 glowing with intense feeling, and the graceful 
 curves of her form displayed in all her movements. 
 She stopped suddenly, and asked, — 
 
 1 What says my father ? ' 
 
 ' He is agreed that the marriage must be ac- 
 cepted. The affair at Matila has forced him to it. 
 He was pleased with the letter, and respects Mr 
 Gray for it. But he requires thy obedience. It is 
 in this way. For three months he exacts thy 
 residence in the convent. During that time thou 
 and Mr Gray shall hold no communication. He 
 leaves Mr Gray at liberty to withdraw, but also to 
 renew his offer after that time. He has written so 
 to Matila, and he begged the gentleman to see thy 
 uncle, Welletenya, and explain matters to him.' 
 
 ' And what sayest thou, mother ? Hast thou no 
 kind word ? ' 
 
 Q 
 
242 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 ' My love, if Mr Gray is of the same mind then, 
 I shall think thee well wed, but I cannot think 
 that it will be as good for thee as a marriage with 
 one of thy own race. I fear he will weary of thee. 
 It may be that thou art only the plaything of the 
 moment. But may the Lord Buddha avert such 
 an evil ! ' 
 
 ' Mother, the Lord Buddha never answers ! 
 Would that thou couldst learn to pray with me ! 
 Seest thou this cross? It was the gift of my 
 husband, and it is a symbol of the faith which 
 unites us spiritually. Our love can never die, for 
 we are joined in Christ. Promise me then that 
 thou wilt ask God to teach thee the truth.' 
 
 She clasped her hands upon her mother's arm, 
 and sat earnestly looking into her eyes. 
 
 ' See, mother,' she continued, ' though the night 
 be dark, that is only so to our own vision ; the 
 brightness of eternal day is spread abroad by the 
 Spirit of Christ. Thou hast no trust in the future 
 from what the "Terunanse" teaches. Thou 
 knowest nothing, nor whence thou art come, or 
 art going. It may be that I or thou may be 
 born again as a dog, and lose that repose which 
 the few only can earn by self- suppression. 
 Through Jesus Christ, God has told us all may 
 come to Him, however sinful. Oh, that thou 
 mightest be joined with me in this belief! If 
 thou wast, thou wouldst not fear for my future. 
 It is not as a toy Mr Gray seeks to have me. 
 His meaning is more. I cannot tell thee how 
 I know, for belief comes like some subtle odour 
 borne upon the breeze.' 
 
 ' I cannot answer thee, dear child, now. I must 
 away home. Thy promise first to thy father ! 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 243 
 
 I will ask God to bless thee through Jesus Christ, 
 if it pleaseth thee. Kneel here that I may put 
 my hands upon thy head. Forever may it be ! 
 I shall see thee sometimes. Good-bye ! ' 
 
 She kissed her a dozen times and left, and the 
 girl sank down in a chair by the window in the 
 happy state of dreamland that young love makes 
 peculiarly his own. 
 
CHAPTER XJX 
 
 Yet it was not three months only but two years 
 that the lovers waited for each other. Gray had 
 the announcement made in Colombo of his engage- 
 ment to the daughter of the Panabokkis, and the 
 niece of Welletenya, R.M., immediately that he 
 received a reply to his letter. The condition was 
 that they should wait for three months, and then 
 see. But Gray knew himself too well to defer 
 publication until then of his betrothal ; besides 
 which, it was due to the girl's honour, in the 
 face of strange rumours, to say something publicly. 
 So for a full month the tea-parties of Colombo had 
 a welcome topic to discuss. The general view was 
 unfavourable to Gray's adventure. It was allowed 
 that the girl was pretty and well-educated, but the 
 native associations would be intolerable, and the 
 black babies to follow ! 
 
 But he was in no hurry to bring the matter to a 
 conclusion, and easily fell in with the wisdom of 
 Mrs Agnew's advice, that Kirimanica should go 
 home with them to Heath Lodge before the marriage 
 took place. And so it was, after much pressure was 
 put upon the Panabokkis to consent to the girl's 
 departure. They were afraid that she would die in 
 the cold grey North, if not that she would learn to 
 despise them, which would almost be worse. But 
 in the end, weeping, they let her go. 
 
 A touching incident happened before Kirimanica 
 244 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 245 
 
 quitted her home. The papers all had a reference 
 to the 'marriage that was arranged' and 'would 
 shortly take place,' and of course the retainers 
 upon the Mahaganga estates were all aware of the 
 fact, and it was discussed in the Matila bazaar. 
 The whole of the island might have known it if 
 those dwelling in distant nooks and corners had 
 an interest in it. So one evening, the girl being 
 alone, putting up her best silks to go to England, 
 Antone announced that a messenger, who would 
 not give his name, desired to see her. He proved 
 to be an old man, travel-stained and weary, with 
 but a cloth about his waist, leaning upon a staff. 
 He bore something wrapped in leaves and tied 
 with jungle fibres. Unfastening the covering with 
 tremulous hand, he produced a parcel in red silk, 
 which he handed to Kirimanica, saying, laconically, 
 ' For the wedding.' He turned, and marched, or 
 rather hobbled, away, resisting all effort at inquiry. 
 She recognised the covering, and was smitten 
 with a sudden sorrow as she slowly unrolled the 
 silk. There lay the jewelled necklace that Ram- 
 banda had offered her at Matila ! And this was 
 the final evidence of his complete surrender ! 
 Antone was so full of admiration for the gems 
 and gold that he did not see the tears rolling 
 down the cheeks of his young mistress. She 
 begged him in a broken voice, if possible, to 
 follow and bring back the messenger, that she 
 might send but one word of greeting to him 
 who was lost to them. Antone was just in time, 
 for the old man had proceeded some way down 
 the Colpetty Road. The former invented a pre- 
 text, saying that ' Something was wanting,' and 
 that an explanation was required. The old man 
 
246 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 was quite fiery at his honesty being doubted, and 
 returned. Kirimanica pacified him by telling him 
 that everything was safe, but that something truly 
 was deficient — there was no letter nor inscription 
 to show from whom came this regal gift. He 
 replied that he was told to communicate nothing, 
 but that he had the parcel from one who lived 
 far away in the wilds of the Mahavelliganga, where 
 its swift current roars over rapids and winds its 
 way through tangled forest, and who was wringing 
 a toilsome livelihood from the rocky soil, surrounded 
 by a few of the wild people, the only denizens, 
 besides the bear, and deer, and elephant, of those 
 parts. The girl said, — 
 
 1 Art going back ? ' 
 
 ' It may be/ said the old man, furtively. 
 
 ' Then say to him who sent thee, " My love to 
 thee, brother, and peace be upon thee. I pray for 
 thee;" and here, look, is money for thee to ride 
 to Kandy and to find food sufficient for thy 
 journey back.' 
 
 She pressed five rupees upon him, and he left. 
 And that was the last news she heard of Ram- 
 banda. 
 
 And one day a mighty steamer cast off moor- 
 ings in Colombo harbour, leaving Gray, and the 
 girl's father and mother, and the weeping Antone, 
 to return to shore in a boat, while the Agnews, 
 Caselli and Kirimanica were borne away over the 
 heaving ocean to the cold, sombre North. 
 
 The girl flung her arms round Helen when they 
 were alone, and the tears could not be held back, 
 feeling for the heart that beat so truly, in the pain 
 of that great desolation of parting from the native 
 land, dear with all childhood's associations — a pain 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 247 
 
 which sometimes seems to be a counterpart of that 
 which hovers round the idea of separation from 
 earthly ties. 
 
 She used to confess to Helen sometimes that 
 her spirit seemed chilled in a land where every- 
 thing seemed painted in neutral tints, and to 
 herself she often said that she was losing the 
 somewhat passionate warmth of disposition com- 
 mon to Tropic lands. And then she was sorry 
 that her lover might, when he came, find her 
 grown reserved and undemonstrative like the 
 people of the North. But she broke away from 
 that thought, and applied herself earnestly to 
 study art and manners, and to dwell upon the 
 religious evidences she saw around her, for she 
 knew that her education was beginning. In social 
 usage she looked to Helen as her model, to the 
 one woman for whom she had most admiration, 
 and whose pure mind welcomed the closest scrutiny 
 from her pupil. And later it was that the under- 
 study became more attractive and interesting than 
 ever, for something was expected which was to be 
 a joy to Helen and Agnew which nothing in the 
 world can surpass, and which, originating in the 
 memorable night of their reconciliation, seemed to 
 be the divine seal of it. Helen had come to think 
 of it as tangible witness to the truth of her new 
 faith, and there was a serene happiness in the 
 contemplation of what was to come which she 
 had never felt before. Then to have it happen 
 in the refined and quiet home of her childhood 
 seemed to double the pleasure. The wisdom of 
 the young in these matters is more customary in 
 the East than in the West, and Kirimanica, com- 
 prehending the situation, was able to be a companion 
 
24 3 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 to Helen in her enforced retirement. To the former 
 it was delightful to be constantly engaged upon 
 little services for Helen, to sit with her under the 
 cedars, or by the window, half hidden in the climb- 
 ing roses, to read to her such books as they both 
 loved, and to exchange confidences with her as to 
 their own budding hopes. 
 
 This intercourse had led the child onward in her 
 secret speculations another step. Up to now all 
 thought had been centred upon union with the 
 beloved ; now she knew that there was something 
 more, that brings to even the abandoned woman 
 one pure joy, the offspring of unselfish love. 
 
 It was in the summer time, when the garden 
 was blooming with geraniums and lobelia, and the 
 sun was casting deep shades under the wide cedar 
 tree, that another little life took shape at Heath 
 Lodge, and, with her baby boy clasped in her arms, 
 the last vestige of clouds which had once overcast 
 the sky of Helen's existence seemed to disappear 
 below the horizon, and she knew that the prayers 
 that had gone up to heaven had been heard. The 
 girl, her companion, shared in her joy, and began 
 to realise in a way what was the sacredness of 
 maternity. Another year sped by, the child was 
 crawling upon the lawn, and lisping in his early 
 speech ; and another hope was budding and soon 
 to bloom in the garden of the girl's soul, for her 
 lover was expected. 
 
 She was half timorous that he might be disap- 
 pointed in her. She would scan herself in the 
 glass, and speculate as to whether her beauty had 
 dimmed. No ; the lustrous eyes, the ivory skin, 
 the full, dewy lips were still there ; the swell of the 
 dainty bust perhaps more accentuated, and the 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 249 
 
 English dress gracefully worn. She thought he 
 would think her still acceptable in form. But 
 about her accomplishments she was more doubtful. 
 She could sing ballads, and accompany herself 
 with music, and with English arts and letters had 
 much familiarity. She had gained an insight into 
 the habits and thoughts of those she had met with 
 in English society, and was self-possessed and un- 
 constrained in intercourse with them. Caselli had, 
 in his fatherly way, told her she was a charming 
 child, but she reflected that he might have said so 
 out of good-nature. She would rather know what 
 Mr Agnew thought. He was reserved, and not easily 
 won, but he smiled kindly upon her, and often 
 escorted her about London, seeming pleased with 
 her freshness and naivete. Helen had delighted 
 the girl by telling her that Mr Gray would have 
 one of the dearest little wives in the world, and a 
 companion after his own heart. 
 
 But still Kirimanica trembled as the time ap- 
 proached for his arrival, feeling that a great crisis 
 was coming. Were he to display even the slight- 
 est shade of disappointment all must end between 
 them ; that she had resolved. And so, buoyed up 
 with hope one day, and diffident and desponding 
 the next, the time arrived. 
 
 She consulted Helen as to the dress she should 
 wear in order to receive her future husband. 
 Helen at once, with her usual perception, saw the 
 motive of her inquiry, and advised the girl to put 
 on her pretty Singhalese robes. It was a golden 
 evening, succeeding a cloudless clay, when, in the 
 stillness of the air, the scent of heliotrope and 
 carnation seemed diffused in the atmosphere 
 around ; the birds were twittering their last notes 
 
2 5 o A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 among; the cedars and limes outside, and distant 
 chimes mingled peaceful music with the poem in 
 colour that Nature at this season seems to put 
 forth. 
 
 The girl sat in a chair by the window in the 
 costume worn at Matila upon the night when 
 mutual love took birth. The salmon-coloured silk 
 robe and dainty white bodice were there, and the 
 neck, arm and ankle ornaments ; she was scented 
 with the same perfumes, and, best of all, the 
 golden cross lay upon her soft bosom, and was 
 played with by her restless fingers. 
 
 He was expected at half-past eight, having 
 travelled through from Marseilles. The Agnews 
 and Caselli, with a nurse, and the child in a peram- 
 bulator, had gone out considerately for a stroll 
 upon the Heath, and would not return until half- 
 past nine, when there was to be supper instead of 
 dinner at an earlier hour. 
 
 She heard a carriage stop in the road outside as 
 the darkening eve was clothing the garden with 
 sombre hues, and the wooden gates thrown back at 
 the bottom of the drive. She could not bring her- 
 self to look out of the window to anticipate their 
 meeting, and he, being~a stranger to Heath Lodge, 
 was hesitating what to do. There was a ring. He 
 had alighted from the carriage, and explored the 
 approach to the house. She heard the well-known 
 voice in conversation with the servant, and clasped 
 her two hands over her palpitating heart, striving 
 to be calm. She could hear the maid's words, ' A 
 lady is expecting you, sir, in the drawing-room,' 
 and a few seconds later the door was opened, then 
 quickly closed, and in the fading twilight she saw 
 his form inside. He did not for a moment, being 
 
A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 251 
 
 in unfamiliar surroundings, see where she was, and 
 his eyes wandered over other objects in the room ; 
 but it was but for a short space, and he advanced 
 quickly to the window corner as she rose with 
 arms dropped to her side, as at Matila, and face 
 slightly averted and eyelids drooped. He called 
 her by her name in accents of passionate love, and 
 placing both hands upon her shoulders, gazed 
 upon the beautiful face and form to see what 
 change there might have been in two long years. 
 Her eyes slowly lifted and met his, both hungry 
 for the love that had been so long restrained, and 
 his arms clasped the slender figure, hers being 
 round his neck, while their lips met in one long 
 kiss that seemed to be the most rapturous of all — 
 as if uniting soul to soul. She could but murmur 
 ' Charlie,' and the almost painful feeling of her 
 heart found relief — it were almost a new joy — in a 
 flood of tears. There was to be no more parting, 
 and there was one thing she knew from the look in 
 his eyes — he was not disappointed in her. Might 
 God be praised ? 
 
 And when yet another summer tide had set in, 
 and the garden at Heath Lodge was again in 
 bloom, it was Helen's turn to sit by the couch of 
 the child wife and soothe her fears, or encourage 
 her hopes, and when a little heir to the Mahaganga 
 estates came into the world, Kirimanica would 
 often hold him up to be caressed by her husband, 
 saying, laughingly, that after all, the babe was not 
 so very dark. And then the father would reply 
 that the child was like its mother, and that was 
 enough for him. 
 
 In after times they would go to Ceylon for a 
 season, for the Mahaganga Walawa was, by the 
 
252 A ROMANCE OF CEYLON 
 
 death of the old chief, now theirs ; and Kiri- 
 manica's dear, faithful mother would come to 
 spend many days in fondling the little grandchild, 
 and carrying it up and down in her arms in the 
 shade of the suriyas and acacias. Even Pana- 
 bokki unbent, and his stern reserve melted in the 
 general sunshine of existence at the Walawa, and 
 
 o 
 
 with his wife would even listen to the words of the 
 story of Christ as Manica would tell them, with the 
 babe lying in her lap ; and perhaps it was in time 
 that they came to seem true, and to save. 
 
 THE END 
 
 Colston 6° Coy. Limited, Printers, Edinburgh 
 
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 M313137