fire of evangelism that once burned in Selwyn Fraser's breast flickered and grew fainter with every day that passed. She knew he missed the soft rain and biting wind of home; the green grass and frisking lambs; the lingering sunsets and cold mornings. She knew he missed cheddar cheese and herrings in oatmeal. Lilian also knew that Selwyn found India to be a distasteful mixture of the pestilent, the heathen, and the boring. She knew that the impossibility of getting anything done without first becoming familiar with an elaborate hierarchy of castes infuriated him and that the inertia and monotony of the place filled him with disgust. Lilian knew all this because Selwyn himself made a point of telling her so almost every single day.
“We should have stayed at home,” he said mournfully.
Lilian turned away and scanned the plain before the
dak
bungalow. In the distance, a cloud of dust hanging low in the air told her where a herd of bison wandered. The heat was already causing the air to buckle and fold on the horizon, and there was no sign that there would even be a breeze that day. She pulled her
topi
down to shield her face from the glare of the morning sun and slung the gun across her shoulder. “I've already packed everything,” she said. “When you're ready we'll go.”
B Y THE TIME THEY ARRIVED, THE M ISSIONARY S OCIETY at Kushpur had been expecting Selwyn and Lilian for some time.
“Thank goodness you've arrived,” said the man who greeted them. “We were beginning to wonder what had happened to you.”
“Look at these insect bites,” Selwyn replied. “Or bug bites from one of those dreadful
dak
bungalows.” He shook the man's hand, introducing himself and Lilian.
“John Rutherford,” said the man, gazing at Selwyn's weeping scabs. He surreptitiously wiped his hand on his trousers.
“And my head is throbbing,” said Selwyn. “This place is like an oven.”
“The heat takes some getting used to, I know. Even at this time in the morning it can be quite oppressive.” Mr. Rutherford eyed Lilian's
topi
, which she had failed to remove despite her husband's entreaties and which bore the dusty and sun-bleached appearance of sustained usage. “Ladies often find it particularly debilitating”—he cleared his throat—“though I see you have the right idea, Mrs. Fraser.”
“I told her to take the wretched thing off,” muttered Selwyn. “Why, she has only just changed back into her dress. She's been wearing a pair of my trousers since we left the Hooghly.”
“My husband has been quite ill,” interrupted Lilian, perceivingMr. Rutherford's expression. “On more than one occasion we were obliged to send the
dak
on and wait for the next one. That's why we're so late arriving.”
“Do you need a doctor?” Mr. Rutherford glanced at Selwyn, and then at Lilian, as though unsure which one of them might be most in need of attention. “The dispensary is only over there. I'm sure Dr. Mossly would be delighted to help.”
He pointed to a building at whose entrance a crowd had gathered. As they watched a bundle of rags was lifted from the ground and carried inside. Against the walls lay other piles of tattered blankets, above each of which fizzed a furious cloud of flies. From the midst of these blankets bony limbs could be seen projecting.
Selwyn gazed doubtfully at the dark entrance where the bundle had disappeared. “If I go in there I may never come out again,” he said. He swiped angrily at a mosquito with the fly whisk he carried with him like a talisman. Lilian flinched. Could he not keep still, even for a moment?
“Anyhow, Rutherford,” he said, “would you be so kind as to show us where we are to stay while we ‘re here? We started at four this morning to avoid the heat and I'm beginning to feel rather faint.”
Mr. Rutherford led them through a compound to a large, white-painted bungalow with an intricately fashioned wrought-iron veranda. The bungalow had once been surrounded by a
“We should have stayed at home,” he said mournfully.
Lilian turned away and scanned the plain before the
dak
bungalow. In the distance, a cloud of dust hanging low in the air told her where a herd of bison wandered. The heat was already causing the air to buckle and fold on the horizon, and there was no sign that there would even be a breeze that day. She pulled her
topi
down to shield her face from the glare of the morning sun and slung the gun across her shoulder. “I've already packed everything,” she said. “When you're ready we'll go.”
B Y THE TIME THEY ARRIVED, THE M ISSIONARY S OCIETY at Kushpur had been expecting Selwyn and Lilian for some time.
“Thank goodness you've arrived,” said the man who greeted them. “We were beginning to wonder what had happened to you.”
“Look at these insect bites,” Selwyn replied. “Or bug bites from one of those dreadful
dak
bungalows.” He shook the man's hand, introducing himself and Lilian.
“John Rutherford,” said the man, gazing at Selwyn's weeping scabs. He surreptitiously wiped his hand on his trousers.
“And my head is throbbing,” said Selwyn. “This place is like an oven.”
“The heat takes some getting used to, I know. Even at this time in the morning it can be quite oppressive.” Mr. Rutherford eyed Lilian's
topi
, which she had failed to remove despite her husband's entreaties and which bore the dusty and sun-bleached appearance of sustained usage. “Ladies often find it particularly debilitating”—he cleared his throat—“though I see you have the right idea, Mrs. Fraser.”
“I told her to take the wretched thing off,” muttered Selwyn. “Why, she has only just changed back into her dress. She's been wearing a pair of my trousers since we left the Hooghly.”
“My husband has been quite ill,” interrupted Lilian, perceivingMr. Rutherford's expression. “On more than one occasion we were obliged to send the
dak
on and wait for the next one. That's why we're so late arriving.”
“Do you need a doctor?” Mr. Rutherford glanced at Selwyn, and then at Lilian, as though unsure which one of them might be most in need of attention. “The dispensary is only over there. I'm sure Dr. Mossly would be delighted to help.”
He pointed to a building at whose entrance a crowd had gathered. As they watched a bundle of rags was lifted from the ground and carried inside. Against the walls lay other piles of tattered blankets, above each of which fizzed a furious cloud of flies. From the midst of these blankets bony limbs could be seen projecting.
Selwyn gazed doubtfully at the dark entrance where the bundle had disappeared. “If I go in there I may never come out again,” he said. He swiped angrily at a mosquito with the fly whisk he carried with him like a talisman. Lilian flinched. Could he not keep still, even for a moment?
“Anyhow, Rutherford,” he said, “would you be so kind as to show us where we are to stay while we ‘re here? We started at four this morning to avoid the heat and I'm beginning to feel rather faint.”
Mr. Rutherford led them through a compound to a large, white-painted bungalow with an intricately fashioned wrought-iron veranda. The bungalow had once been surrounded by a
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