There was one subject alone on which Miss Wenaston and her housekeeper disagreed. It had nothing to do with the management of the house. It was marriage.

Mrs. Hulver having entered the bonds of matrimony three times considered that she was entitled to speak with authority on the condition of wifehood and widowhood.

Eola Wenaston was twenty-seven years of age and unmarried. When Mrs. Hulver had reached that number of years she had been a wife for a decade, and had entered upon her first period of widowhood. Although a British father had done much to form her character, her Eurasian mother had instilled certain opinions to which she firmly adhered. One fixed belief, as strong as any article of her faith, was that every woman ought to be married. It was the duty of relatives and guardians to forward that end; it was even still more the duty of the woman herself to attract and secure the best husband available without immodesty.

Miss Wenaston she found sadly wanting in self-help. Dr. Wenaston, her brother, was a very busy and sometimes overworked man. He did his best in Mrs. Hulver's opinion when he invited men to his house. His efforts, conscious or unconscious-Mrs. Hulver was not sure which-were not supported as they should have been by his sister. She made no attempt to attract in dress or manner. She was content to wear the same dinner-dress that served when she and her brother were alone; and she did not hesitate to allow Dr. Wenaston to absorb all the conversation if he chose, remaining silent through the dinner and perhaps through the whole evening as well. This was altogether a mistake, as Mrs. Hulver tried in vain to point out more than once. Eola listened in perfect good nature, but her replies were not encouraging, and the housekeeper was vaguely conscious that she was being kept in her place. She persevered however, and never lost an opportunity of putting in a word as far as she dared; but she always felt that there was a barrier that she might not pass.

A certain Major Ellingham appeared at Chirapore on his way to a shooting expedition in the Western Ghats. He was entertained by Dr. Wenaston for a week while the camping preparations were made. Mrs. Hulver devoted her attention to the catering; and with the assistance of Ramachetty and the cook sent in such meals as elicited the guest's warm approval. In the evening as she sat in her wicker-chair by the open door of her sitting-room, she smiled as she heard the strains of the piano, and Ellingham's fine baritone in "Love's old sweet song," or some such melody.

Nothing came of it, however; and the guest departed as heart-whole as he left Eola herself. Mrs. Hulver's even temperament was ruffled by a wave of annoyance as she thought of the enhanced bazaar account and all the trouble she had been put to in devising dainty cooking. One morning she ventured to suggest to Miss Wenaston that Major Ellingham would make a good husband. Eola agreed readily enough.

"Probably he will pick up some nice girl by and by, when his head is less full of shooting big game," she said indifferently.

"He is not the man to care for a young girl, miss. I take it from his appearance and general bearing that when he makes his choice, it will fall on a lady with some experience of the world, like yourself and about your own age."

Eola laughed outright and Mrs. Hulver was hurt. A joke she could understand, but ridicule was like a red hot iron, and she shrank into herself. Eola saw that her mirth gave offence, and she hastened to soothe and make amends.

"You need have no fear, Mrs. Hulver. He doesn't take my fancy, nor do I take his; so there is no likelihood of your losing me."

"It's not that, miss, which troubles me," the housekeeper explained. "Gladly would I see you go as I went myself to the arms of a husband. It's the proper place for every right-minded woman. As William--"

Eola interrupted her with another laugh that she found impossible to repress.

"You and I don't agree on the subject of marriage and never shall. I am single and you were very much married--"

Mrs. Hulver bridled and broke in upon her speech with some indignation.

"Indeed, miss! I was no more married than I ought to have been. To have been less married with my three husbands wouldn't have been respectable. And I am sure it has helped me along; I should have been a poor thing without it. As William-that was my second-used to say: 'Humble wedlock is better than proud singleness. Marriage is like a good pair of boots to a woman. It will carry her through fair weather and foul. If the boots wear out before their time the best thing to do is to get another pair.' He talked like that when I was hesitating about taking him. It was not the man himself that made me doubt but the way he leaned. It was all towards truth and honesty."

"You are truthful and honest, Mrs. Hulver," protested Eola. "Don't say you are not or you won't be doing yourself justice."

"I have always shrunk from lies and thieving," admitted Mrs. Hulver. "I never could stoop to low conduct of any kind. But there is truth and truth. As William-that was my third-used to say when I gave him a talking to: 'Lay it on mild, me dear. Truth is like a mustard plaster. It may be very good for the patient but you've got to be careful how you apply it or you may hurt your best friend more than a little.' What troubled me was whether I could live up to the standard of my second."

"You might have been happier if you had not married him," said Eola, with a twinkle in her eye, as she controlled her lips.

"I couldn't have been happy alone with nothing to live up to and no one to tend. I chanced it and found it quite easy. All I had to be careful about was to prevent anything from coming to his knowledge that was not up to his mark. I soon got used to keeping things smooth; and there was never a married man happier than my second."

The thought of her success as William the second's wife restored her tranquillity of mind, and she left Eola to go about her duties in her usual contented frame of mind.

An Assistant Resident was the next person who all unconsciously fluttered Mrs. Hulver's hopes, raising them with regard to Eola only to dash them to the ground again. It so happened that a man came to act for six months whilst the permanent Assistant Resident was away on leave. He was unmarried, musical, and a great reader. Inclination and compatability of tastes often brought him to the college either to discuss new writers with Dr. Wenaston, or to try over new music with Eola.

Once more Mrs. Hulver concentrated her attention and energy on culinary matters. She had not been the chosen partner of three husbands without discovering how great a factor the food question is in the life of a man. She was able to quote from the sayings of all three on the subject. The Assistant Resident ate such dinners at the college house as he never forgot; but the way to his heart in his case was not through the stomach. Over the music and books he made a certain amount of progress; and had he seen any response to encourage him, he might have fallen into the belief that Eola was the one desirable woman in the world for him; but there was no such encouragement. At the end of six months he went away; and it was Mrs. Hulver's heart, not Eola's, that sank in despair.

"Mr. Fressenden will miss you and the Doctor, miss," remarked Mrs. Hulver, austerely, the morning after his departure. "You have been very hospitable to him."

"I daresay he will," was the indifferent reply.

"He should get married. An Assistant Resident has to receive a lot of company; and a house without a woman at the head makes a poor show."

"Our present Assistant has a very nice wife."

"It's a wonder that Mr. Fressenden doesn't follow his example."

"He will find a wife in time," replied Eola, as she added up the column of figures given her by the butler that morning. "I make it half an anna less than Ramachetty. I must go over it again."

"He had better not be too long about finding a wife," continued Mrs. Hulver, determined not to let the subject drop till she had had her say. "If a man waits too long he ages in looks and manners, and he is not taken for himself. He may think that he is, for God deals out vanity with a liberal hand when a boy is born. But with a middle-aged man there are other considerations at the back of a woman's mind besides love; like houses, for instance." She broke off shortly with a little laugh. "It tells on both sides for that matter. If William-that was my first-hadn't had a little property behind him, my mother would never have chosen him for her daughter with his dark complexion."

"Was he very much darker? After all I think Ramachetty is right, and that it is my mistake not his."

"He was quite four shades darker than me; some people might have said it was five; but that was his age. Being older than me he showed it more."

"Yes, the butler has added it up correctly," said Eola, laying down her pen. "You were telling me about your first husband. It must have been a drawback to have had him darker than yourself."

"I am not so sure, miss, that it wasn't an advantage. William knew that he was blacker than me by several shades, and that I was his superior in European descent. Both his parents were Eurasians. With me it was only on one side, my mother's. That being so he never dared to cheek me or speak disrespectfully as country-born people are apt to do when they lose their tempers. It's a very powerful thing in our sex, is the tongue. I'm sure I don't know what we poor women would do without it. As William-that was my third-used to say: 'The tongue is a wonderful thing, Maria, me dear! It may be as sweet as sugar; or sharp as a lime; or as stinging as red pepper.' He used to add that the devil himself loosened Eve's tongue for her when she took the apple, knowing that she would have no chance with ould Adam unless she had that advantage."

Yet a third prospective husband, in Mrs. Hulver's opinion, appeared in the person of an executive engineer in the service of Government. He was highly favoured by the housekeeper since Delaine, her first husband, had been a subordinate in that same service. With renewed hope she flung herself into the campaign, and left nothing undone in the commissariat department that might propitiate and lead on a faltering suitor.

It was all to no purpose. He departed like the other two without speaking; and Mrs. Hulver in her vexation could not refrain from unburdening herself on the subject at the first opportunity.

"When a man in the Public Works Department gets to be an executive engineer he ought to have a wife. Mr. Fearing is just throwing away his opportunities by keeping single. He seems such a nice gentleman, too. There ought to be no difficulty."

"Except that perhaps marriage has no attraction for him," suggested Eola.

Mrs. Hulver stared at her in sheer unbelief. The man or woman sound in mind and body who did not desire marriage in the abstract was unthinkable. Choice was another matter; many an individual deferred making his choice for reasons that might be good or indifferent, but were sufficient all the same. It was impossible in her opinion that any one could look upon the estate of matrimony as undesirable.

"Begging your pardon, miss, if I may be so bold as to say so, I don't think either you or your brother know much about marriage. Your minds have not been brought to bear upon it. As William-that was my second-used to say: 'Thoughts are like guns; they are no use until they are trained on an object.' You haven't had an occasion to train yours yet on to marriage. Now in my case they've been trained all my life on matrimony, and I can speak with knowledge and experience. If a man tells you that he doesn't want to get married, you may take it that either he can't get the woman he wants, or he hasn't made his choice. If a girl tells you that she doesn't want to get married-" Mrs. Hulver actually panted with indignation at the mere thought of it-"She's-she's-well! she's a liar-at least she is in this country."

Eola's light laugh was the only reply to such an assertion, and Mrs. Hulver took herself off to her sanctum at the back of the house with the nearest approach to wrath in her placid good nature she was capable of feeling.

Then Bernard Alderbury appeared on the scene, causing Mrs. Hulver doubt and perturbation of mind. He was a vigorous worker in the ranks of one of the large Church of England missionary societies, a strenuous parson who held a charmed life against the many evils prowling in his field of labour. He seemed immune to the effects of bad water, coarse food, poisonous mosquitoes and a tropical sun. His exemption was not obtained by disregard of the conditions of Indian life up-country. On the contrary he observed the greatest care in safe-guarding himself by the use of such appliances as science provided. He took the minimum risk and the maximum care and forethought. Aided by a magnificent constitution and an endless store of confidence and hope that killed depression, he preserved the health and good spirits so essential to his particular work.

Wenaston and Alderbury were old college friends. When the missionary spirit threw its mantle over the latter, Wenaston, by no means an irreligious man, did his best to persuade the other from-as he put it-throwing himself away on the colonies and hiding his light under a bushel. A man of his abilities and private means should have different aspirations.

Alderbury received the advice in his light-hearted manner, and assured his friend that going to India as a missionary would prove his own salvation and keep him out of the morasses of modern thought and controversy.

"I must fight some one," said Alderbury. "I don't want civil war; I want an enemy outside the pale of Mother Church. Hinduism seems to me the very thing, a noble and worthy foe; an ancient faith, a marvellous system of philosophy with a crafty degenerate priesthood. Doesn't the mere thought of it stir your blood and make you tingle to be up and fighting? Grafting upon the obsolete creed something infinitely better, a glorious oriental Christ, soul-satisfying and sufficient, Who will lift India's millions into a fresher and purer atmosphere of life and thought."

Wenaston glanced at the shining eyes turned upon him in enthusiasm as he would have looked at the symptoms of an obscure disease. It was a thing he could neither understand nor account for; but some instinct made him hold his peace. If the man was right, well and good; if he proved wrong, he would find it out for himself. He forbore to comment or to combat the new resolve. Alderbury pursued the course he had mapped out for himself, and in due time went to India.

Wenaston continued the student and developed into the school-master. When a vacancy occurred in the college of Chirapore he was asked if he would accept it. Until that moment he had not thought of going to the East. His sister, who had a great desire to see India, added her weight to inclination, and he decided to take the appointment.

Once more the two friends met, and Alderbury rejoiced in the renewal of their intimacy; for among other facts he learned that none pressed more heavily upon him than the loneliness of the missionary's life, its isolation and the complete absence of congenial companionship. Under the circumstances it was not to be wondered at that he never lost an opportunity in his missionary itineration of spending a few days with the Doctor and his sister. It was a little out of his way, but that did not matter. The holiday was the more complete since there was no duty within reach. The missions he superintended were in British territory, beyond the borders of the native state. He would have established work of some sort in Chirapore, but he was not encouraged to do so by his society nor by the Government of the State. The society already had more than enough irons in the fire with an open field in British India clamouring for yet more workers. But Alderbury could never visit his friend without casting envious glances at the big classes of boys assembled in the college hall. He would dearly have liked a free hand on the platforms of the classrooms; however this was not permissible. One of the conditions attached to the appointment of Principal was that there should be no attempt at proselytising; a condition to which Wenaston easily subscribed, since he had not even a spark of missionary enthusiasm.

Eola was of her brother's way of thinking. She too looked at Alderbury's work with something like detached curiosity. His energy, his whole-hearted desire to see India Christianised, his indefatigable and unceasing sacrifice of self, appealed to the instinctive hero-worship that is implanted in every woman's breast; but though she could wonder and admire and was insensibly drawn by his personality, she could not understand the fascination that held him to his chosen profession.

As for Mrs. Hulver she had her own reasons for disapproving of his visits, and it had nothing to do with his missionary zeal. Nevertheless she did not fail to provide a table worthy of her master's position. The food was substantial rather than recherché, nourishing rather than dainty. She had formed some fixed opinions upon the subject of missionaries generally; they were deeply rooted and unalterable. As a class missionaries required feeding up; their wardrobes needed the services of the dirzee to mend and patch and darn. She was puzzled more than a little when she found that Alderbury paid no particular attention to the food, and ate sparingly, with a distinct inclination towards daintiness. As for his wardrobe it was in better condition in some respects and needed less attention than the Doctor's. Not a sock required darning; not a coat needed stitching; and what was more, his clothes were not only new and none the worse for wear, but they were of the best and finest description. The pay of a missionary was known to be of narrow proportions, leaving no margin for luxury. It did not seem fit and proper in her eyes that he should be better dressed than his host. That he possessed anything besides his salary did not enter Mrs. Hulver's head; because if he had private means he never would have come to India as a missionary; he would have adopted the military service and been an officer in the army.

Alderbury came and went at his own convenience, never announcing his proposed visit by more than a day or two, and never prolonging it beyond the two or three nights, which gave him at least one complete day's rest, so essential sometimes to the worker for whom Sunday is the busiest day of the week. How intensely the man enjoyed that day his hosts had little suspicion. Whether he discussed the latest theory in science or religion with Wenaston, or the latest novel with Eola, it was all pure happiness unclouded by a single anxiety.

Mrs. Hulver was the only person who was disturbed. The laughter of the happy trio awoke no sympathetic joy in her. She was relieved when she heard only the low tone of the masculine voices, indicating that Miss Wenaston was taking no part in the conversation. It was fortunate for her peace of mind that she could not see Eola's eyes dwelling on the long figure extended in the cane lounge placed between her own easy chair and her brother's; nor how she watched him when, carried away by excitement, he pulled himself forward and even sprang to his feet the better to emphasise what he had to say. As he stood before them, speaking to the Doctor, but often turning his deepset eyes upon Eola, the girl thought of St. Paul. By what mysterious force was he driven? What fire was it that kindled in his eyes as he talked and made him look different from any other man she had known? The Indian world as she knew it was very peaceful; the people of the native State of Chirakul were notorious for their content and for the absence of all sedition and unrest. Yet to hear him talk one might be brought to the belief that it was not a peaceful model native state, but an enemy's land, a field for a deadly battle with a worthy foe.

Alderbury passed out of their little world as suddenly as he came in, leaving them slumberous and quiescent. Eola missed him, but Mrs. Hulver indulged in a sigh of relief. Much as she desired to see Eola married she drew a rigid line at missionaries. Not that missionaries should be debarred from marriage. On the contrary, a wife was more needful in the mission house than anywhere else. But the missionary's wife belonged, in her opinion, to quite another class. She did not know where the wives were bred. They were endowed with many admirable virtues, and were eminently suited to be helpers to their worthy husbands in proselytising among the heathen; but of one thing she was sure; there was a wide difference between them and Miss Wenaston. Their rambling bungalows had a certain amount of plain solid comfort about them; and they made the best of the country fare that their limited salaries obliged them to buy, but there was nothing dainty in either dress or food or furniture.

The large compounds in which their dwellings were placed contained outbuildings where the natives gathered for instruction; both bungalow and compound were haunted with mild-looking converts in white muslin; their happy faces an indication that Christianity and the pastoral supervision of the missionary agreed with them.

On the other hand who ever heard of a missionary's wife being invited to the Presidency town to take a share in social festivities? Who ever saw, asked Mrs. Hulver, with raised eyebrows, "a missionary's lady" at a race meet or at a Government House ball? Miss Wenaston belonged to the class that welcomed Viceroys and figured at races and balls. Thus it happened that after some of these flying visits Mrs. Hulver had remarks to make.

"Missionaries are very good sort of people in their way. I often wonder how they can keep it up."

"Keep what up?" asked Eola, mystified.

"Their spirits and their belief that they are doing these natives good."

"Of course they are doing good, Mrs. Hulver," said Eola, as if she were slightly shocked. The half-formed doubt occasionally slipped unbidden into her own mind but she had never put it into words.

"I didn't say that they were not doing good. I left it open. As William-that was my first-used to say when the native overseers had too big a grasp on the profits: 'You can't wash a crow white nor expect anything of him but a croak.' It's the thought of the millions and millions of heathen in India that is apt to stagger one. It's like trying to empty a tank with a teaspoon. However, as William-that was my second-used to say when I was down-hearted about the way anything was going: 'You lay your brick and lay it sound and leave the rest to others. No man ever built a church steeple all by himself and yet old England is full of churches and steeples.' Anyway, I shouldn't like to be a missionary's wife. I could dress up to it; I could feed up to it; but I couldn't stand the converts trapesing through the compound and hanging about the verandahs. I shouldn't feel as if the house belonged to me."

"Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary to have them there," suggested Eola, who read between the lines with secret amusement.

"Oh! yes, it would; it's their reward; their right," replied Mrs. Hulver with conviction. "Any lady that's suitable to be a missionary's wife makes no objection; but she must be, so to speak, born to it. It's not a job that would suit you, miss. As William-that was my third-said when he heard that the Chaplain was going to marry the Colonel's daughter: 'If the church mouse takes the field mouse to wife there'll be a difference of opinion about the mode of living.' You could never put up with mission ways."

"You never did any mission work, I suppose," said Eola, turning the conversation from a subject she was not prepared to discuss with her housekeeper.

"No miss; but my husband William-that was my second-he tried his hand at it once, only once. He saw some of the canteen servants doing pujah to a stone image that stood under a tree behind the canteen. He went up to them in the middle of the pujah and said: 'Boys, you're all going to hell that way.' One of them that served the Presbyterian minister spoke up and said: 'No sar! It's the Roman Catholics that are going to hell, not us!' William walked away without another word; and when I asked him about it, he said that missionary work wasn't his job, and that he would leave it to those who knew more about it than he did."

"It was very good of him to make the attempt."

Mrs. Hulver looked pleased at the praise and approbation of the departed William the second.

"He was a right-minded man about everything, loyal to his God and his King; and he was the father of my only child."