The next morning Brian had a long interview with Ronnie--our good friend Mr. Hodson being present--and when in the early afternoon we went for a motor drive Brian told me the gist of their conference.
"Ronnie is anxious for you to return to England with me. On this point he and I are absolutely agreed," announced my companion. "I have assured him that I shall pull every string I can reach to get his sentence reduced. I may be mistaken, but I have an impression that three months' hard labour for a gentleman means as much as six to a working coolie, and I am sure the indignity bites in ten times more deeply. As soon as Ronnie is released we will give him a real good start in the colonies. Meanwhile the Hodsons will keep a kindly eye on him, and he will feel that you and I are working like niggers on his behalf."
This conversation took place as we sped into the open country, and Brian said:
"I am doing all the talking. What has happened to my prize chatterbox?"
"Neither a prize nor a chatterbox now," I replied.
"Well, I hope you will return to your old form. Already you look a shade better, and you have laughed once. Have you read my mother's letter?"
"I have indeed. It is too, too kind--I shall treasure it always."
"She _is_ a dear old Mum, I must say! Well now, shall we turn round and go to the Lal Bagh?"
"Yes, if you like, but why the Lal Bagh?"
"My father often talked of it when he had a reminiscent fit. He was quartered here forty-three years ago. His regiment was the Blue Hussars; their band played at the Lal Bagh, and all the beauty and fashion processed about like peacocks."
"No beauty and fashion are to be seen there now, only nurses and soldiers and Eurasians--except on show days, at long intervals. Polo and golf and the club have combined to write 'Ichabod' over the Lal Bagh."
"Well, let us go and see it all the same. I'd like to walk, or rather hobble, round in the pater's footsteps."
The Lal Bagh, or Red Garden, said to have been laid out by Hyder Ali, is an immense straggling enclosure, full of wonderful exotic plants and great trees shading long walks; it also contains many cages of wild animals.
This exhibition never appealed to me. I always felt so sorry for the animals; they looked, as a rule, hungry and miserable. We turned, therefore, in another direction and I gave my arm to Brian, who leant on me and his stick. Presently we found our way to the terrace and a seat. Here there was no one to disturb our _tête-à-tête_. We were entirely surrounded by the beauties of Nature; a wonderful profusion of sweet-scented flowering creepers, these and the palms, ferns, and forest trees in Hyder Ali's old garden seemed to envelop us in an atmosphere of enchantment and peace.