Rensselaer Republican, Volume 16, Number 41, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 June 1884 — A GRASSWIDOW. [ARTICLE]

A GRASSWIDOW.

Mrs. Cleather was by far the prettiest and generally the most attractive among the whole army of grass widows to be found in the gay and giddy Nynee Tai, the hill station of the N. W. P. India. Naturally, as is always the case in this merry world we live in, being beautiful, attractive and altogether charming, she won the hearts and admiration of most of the stronger Sex and the envy, hatred and malice, of the weaker. That was only to be expected; it is the way of the world, and it would have been altogether out of the common if it had been otherwise. Admirers she had many, though it would have been hard to pick up among the multitude (unless one was behind the scenes) who was more favored than the rest She distributed her attentions equally among them all—at least, so far as the eye could see; and riding out one afternoon with this one, rowing on the lake with another, or dancing with a third, nobody was quite able to fix on any one in particular whom they could tell off as her own distinctive “bowwow," and whom they could set themselves to manufacture stories and scandals about. Five months of the Nynee Tai season had now gone, an d pre tty Mrs. Cleather had managed to pass unscathed through all the fiery accusations of the host of scandal mongers and gossipers of th at festive Anglo-Indian community; until quite lately, when she had evinced a somewhat greater partiality for one of her staff, and set all tongues going at once. “Mind you,” said Mrs. Allison to Mrs. Barnard one afternoon, “I‘ve heard queer stories about this young and in-nocent-looking Mrs. Cleather; not that I believe them; still there is no smoke without fire, you know.” “Quite so,” responded Mrs. Barnard, in her squeaky voice; and Mrs. Dawson tells me she saw two people very like Mrs. Cleather and Capt. Fenn On the lake last night at 11 o’clock!” “Dear me! And all this time her husband slaving away in the plains!” “Yes; and you know they’ve been very much together of late; they say he is always up at her house every morning about 10 or 11, and remains there the best part *f the day.” “Ah, it’s a crying shame,” says Mrs. Allison, “for such scandals to be allowed to go. on in public like this; why does not Mr. Cleather comb up and look after his wife?” “Well, I suppose, poor man, he can’t get away from his duties in the plains, but I think some one ought to warn him of the way his young wife is going on." “Yes, and if I only knew him a bit better I’d do so myself just out of pure Christian charity." “But what could one tell him ? You Bee there is as yet no direct evidence of anything exactly wrong.” “No, true, my dear, but if this kind of thing goes on much longer there will be. mark my word. The truth must come to light some day,” Meanwhile pretty Mrs. Cleather, the pride of the “bow-wows” and the envy of her sex, pursued the even tenor of her ways, utterly callous of what people thought or said about her—a friend of everybody who knew her well,*and could appreciate her pleasant manners and conversation, and the enemy, though not of her own making, of others who knew her but slightly or not at all. The season was on the wane at Nynee TaL The rains were over and once more the lake shone forth in all its former glory, and the overhanging trees and rocks covered with ferns and moss, with which its banks were surrounded, made the whole more like a picture in fairyland than a reality in the hills of northern India. Every one ■was making the most of the last few weeks that were left of the season, and dances, theatricals, picnics and dissipations of all sorts crowded one on top of the other day after day. Mrs. Cleather was everywhere, and the charm and the spirit of every ball or picnic she went to. Certainly she did give people a faint excuse for talking, as Capt. Fenn latterly was never absent from her side, and had these last few weeks evidently taken his place as chief of the numerous staff of her would-be-admirers : but then he was a personal friend of Cleather’s, her husband, and would not that be sufficient in accounting for the decided preference for him among the others by the young grass widow ? One Thursday afternoon about the beginning of October Mr. Allison, Mrs. Barnard and Mrs. Dawson had a small and select picnic of their own at that most delightful of all resting places, namely the inn known as Rest by the Way, at Douglas Dale, half way down on the road to Ranibagh. It is a picturesque little house, situated in the middle of the valley and surrounded by the most beautiful of gardens, redolent with the sweet odor of acacia and orange trees, and planted out in the most artistic style .with palms, grasses,, trees, and bushes of all sorts, western a« well as oriental. The garden produces fruits of all kinds, cherries,

apples, plantains, strawberries, and, in fact, everything the thirsty traveler could'wish for; added to which there are lovely walks under the cool shade of the trees, and green arbors such as are seldom seen, where one may hide away from the maddening crowd and be at rest, lulled by the rippling of the silver stream near at hand and the singing of the birds overhead. Such a place is Douglas Dale, a veritable garden of Eden, a second paradise. The sun was beginning to set over the purple hills to the north as Mrs. Allison was gradually collecting the remnants of her army, as they came in two by two from their walks and talks on earth. Mrs. Allison, more staid than the rest, had remained behind on the veranda, dear Col. Verriker so kindly remaining too, to take care of her—so kind and thoughtful of him! but it was not the first time this gallant officer had performed this gallant task. Mrs. Allison herself was a grass widow of a somewhat doubtful character, although, according to her own ideas, prim and proper to a degree; still she had no real objection to one of the male sex, other than her lawful spouse, being tacked on to her apron strings for the time being, though the same arrangement with others was scandalous in her eyes to a degree. The party had now all arrived and were sitting in the far corner of the veranda sipping tea and chatting previous to their start up the hill again for Nynee Tai, when they were surprised by the clatter of pony hoofs coming over the bridge towards Jthe house; and a lady all alone, without even a syce (groom), rode into the garden and pulled up in front of the veranda. She had evidently ridden fast, for her pony was very hot and she very much out of breath. Getting her foot out of the stirrup .she slid down off her saddle by herself, and leading the pony up to the door called the bearer. Words fail to describe the astonishment of the tea party at the other end of the veranda when, by the light of the newly lit lamp over the doorway, they recognized the features of the “spotless and innocent” Mrs. Cleather. Their excitement knew no bounds; they dare not move for fear of being seen, and thus spoiling the tableau of which they would doubtless be witnesses. It was only Mrs. Allison who could not resist saying in a rather audible whisper “There I told you so! How much for the child’s innocence now, I should like to know ? You may be sure she’s on no good errand down here all alone at this time of the evening.” However, Mrs. Cleather was much too tired or excited with her ride to notice anything, and the group under the veranda were quite unseen by her. Presently the landlord came to the door. “Did you get my note this afternoon?” “Yes, ma’am.” “Is all ready ?” “Yes.” “Which is the room ?” “If you will kindly come this way I will show you;” and he led her through the door leading into a small apartment at the other end of the veranda generally known as the “Bow-wow’s Cave.” “Dear, dear me, I’d give my best diamond ring to know Avhat she’s up to!” says Mrs. Allison, “Well, I feel rather curious on the subject,”-said a gallant major of the Bengal staff corps sitting at her side. Did you notice the pony she rode ? It was a bay mare; I know it by the black stocking on the near hind, she ran in the last Gymkhana, and belongs to Capt. Fenn.” Ah, doubtless; she always rides his ponies—in fact, they are almost as much hers as his.” “Well,” continued Mrs. Allison, “Capt Fenn’s pony or no, I don’t care, but I should like very much to know what she is doing down here.” “And perhaps, Mrs. Allison,” said a third party, “this is not the first time she’s been down here at this time.” “Who knows?” said the colonel. “She’s as lovely as Venus, but you bet as cunning as a serpent, and it’s always these quiet ones that are the first to go wrong.” Their doubts on the subject were soon, however, made clearer to them, for while they were discussing the subject another pony and rider arrived at the cottage. This time it is a man, and, though enveloped in an overcoat and with a large Teral hat op his head, it was easy to guess who it was. Moreover the syce and pony both tell the tale, as it is the steed that Captain Fenn rides regularly along the Mall every day. The excitement of the lookers-on almost knew no bounds now, and is in; creased when the aged landlord again comes forth, and to the very audible query of “Is Mrs. Cleather arrived?” answers in the affirmative. “Which is the room she engaged?” “The small room with the red purdah over the door,” answers mine host, and retires once more to the inner recesses of his house, evidently not wishing to be more in the way than possible. The gentleman tiirns round, orders his syce to take the pony to the stables, walks steadily down to the little door at the other end, and lifting aside the purhahsays: “Are you there, -?” calling Mrs. Cleather by her Christian name; and a sweet voice answers from within: “Yes; is that you come at last? Entrez and shut the door." It would require an artist of no mean ability to paint the countenances of the party, both men and women, seated round the table in the other corner of the veranda. It was more a look Of intense delight and satisfaction that displayed itself on the face jof both Mrs. Allison and Mrs. Barnard, and a look more of surprise and wonder on those of the others. ' “Come, let us go; this is no fit place to be in such a time of night as this,”, quoth Bits. Allison; and having ordered their jompans and ponies they start on their homeward way. They discuss the affairs of the evening, and nothing is too bad for either Capt. Fenn or, Mrs, Cleather. The fair ones of the party always believed “there was something more than a mere flirtation in if, but to come to this—too dreadful! And what apiece of scandal for the end of the season, too!” As for the men of the

party, they were more puzzled than anything. Capt Fenn was such a friepd of Cleather’s they could hardly believe it ; “however,” they pay, “anything is possible with a woman at the bottom of it.” By 11 o’clock that night the news has spread like wildfire among the select gossip-circles of Nynee Tai, and even one fair dame, more energetic than the rest, wends her way up to Mrs. Cleather’s house to see what she can wean out of the bearer. All he knows is that the mem sahib wept off in a great hurry, and he doesn’t think she would be back till the next day. Worse and worse! Was there ever such a barefaced piece of scandal as this? And they determined to-morrow to let every one in the place know of what has happened. Morning breaks at Nynee Tai, and the sun rises over the mountain tops in all its oriental glory, making everthing around seem bright and happy. ’Little does pretty Mrs. Cleather think there is a thunderstorm of no small proportions about to burst over her head. Mrs. Allison, Mrs. Barnard and Mrs. Dawson are walking on the Mall about 12 o’clock, when who should they meet but Capt. Fenn himself. He stops and talks to them, in answer to their queries as to where he was the evening before says: “Well, I had rather a slow evening at the club. I had intended to go down to Douglas Dale to meet Cleather; h.s wife got a telegram from him in the afternoon, telling her he would be there at 7:30. So I sent down my pony to Ranibagh for him to ride up the hill on. I believe they remained there all night. I’m rather expecting to see them coming up the Mall now. By Jove, there they are!”