Christmas gaieties were now in the air. The pleasant life-long associations which cluster round that season for Anglo-Indians seem to urge them to almost feverish anxiety to celebrate it with increased zeal in their exile. The whole community in fact catches the contagion. The natives, both civil and sepoy, look forward to "Kismas" as a time of gifts and tomashas; while the Eurasian community vie with each other in imitating its time-honoured rites.

To Hester Rayner its approach brought more than a suspicion of homesickness. She remembered sadly that the glad old greetings would sound for other ears than hers in the dear home far away, while to her husband, the chief preoccupation seemed the success of the impending dinner-party on which he had set his heart. The invitations had been duly issued by Hester, and to his satisfaction the hoped-for guests had all responded, two covers being reserved for the Collector of Puranapore and his Assistant.

The dinner had been arranged on an even more lavish scale than any of their former entertainments. The rarest flowers procurable were ordered. The menu was to be purveyed by D'Angelis, a clever Italian chef, who sent forth the daintiest of entrees and savouries, and the most delectable of ice-puddings.

"All must be of the most elegant and select," said Mr. Rayner, looking up from his lists before him. "I want old Worsley to see what a first-rate dinner 'La'yer Rayner' can give. I've ordered cases of the best hock and champagne to please his fastidious palate. I hear his boy is an excellent caterer, and no doubt Worsley is a bonne fourchette."

But disappointment came in the shape of a note from Mark Cheveril to Hester, to tell her that he and his chief were engaged for Christmas Eve. She read Mark's letter aloud in faltering tones, knowing the chagrin it would bring to her husband, who said bitterly:

"A very lukewarm friend, Hester! He might easily have arranged to come to us if he had cared to. Yet what friendship he professed for you and the whole Bellairs family! But you see it is just in such selfish moves that his half-caste blood comes out!"

Hester did not like her husband throwing the blame on Mark, yet she could not help feeling that her old friend might have remembered how much it would mean to her to see a home face among the new acquaintances who were to gather round their board. Mr. Rayner seemed anxious to ignore the disappointment.

"I can easily provide substitutes," he remarked airily, "who will be proud to sit at my table." But Hester felt that this artificial occasion would only remind her sorrowfully of the happy gatherings of Pinkthorpe days; the excitement of decorating the village church, the frosty sunsets, the joys of holly and misletoe, and the festive air which seemed to pervade everything.

Christmas Eve came round. She had already dressed for dinner, wearing, at her husband's request, her wedding dress, with beautiful, white camellias at her waist and on her fair wavy hair.

"Oh, ma'm, how booful you looking," said her ayah, with many ejaculations of admiration; and she called Rosie to have a peep at the beautiful Dosani.

Hester had just fastened her gold cross with its tiny chain on her neck when her husband entered the room.

"How fortunate I've remembered, Hester! I've just excavated your diamonds from my safe. I believe you wanted to give them a premature burial there! Not so shall you treat my loving gifts, my love! Off with that trumpery cross and let me see my gems sparkling on your beautiful neck!"

Hester tried hard to conceal the disappointment she felt at having to wear the ostentatious jewel, but she saw it was inevitable, though the ayah, on the pretext of arranging the folds of her dress, whispered to her: "Missus wear cross—that plentee luckee jewel!"

The change, however, was effected, though Hester averted her eyes from the mirror that she might not behold herself in the resplendent gem, though she felt somewhat rewarded for her self-sacrifice by her husband's gratification.

The long elaborate dinner seemed to drag endlessly, and it was apparent to Hester that one or two of the guests looked bored. After the ladies returned to the drawing-room, the "rankest" lady, whom the host had taken into dinner, said to her with a pronounced yawn:

"I didn't like to ask your husband—but my dear Mrs. Rayner, what became of the Collector of Puranapore? I understood he was to be your guest this evening?"

"Oh, that was only a peradventure, Mrs. Grace. Mr. Worsley only arrived in Madras to-day, and was engaged for this evening."

"Then he declined your invitation?" asked Mrs. Grace sharply. "And his Assistant, did he also decline? I thought we were to have the pleasure of meeting both. In fact, Mr. Rayner told my husband so some time ago." She was about to add: "And but for that expectation we would have also declined the invitation." But even the Mrs. Graces of Anglo-Indian society have bounds which they cannot pass.

Observing the flush that rose to her hostess's face, she changed the topic, though on her drive home she did not fail to remark to her husband:

"That favourite of yours has shifty eyes, my dear. I don't like the man, and he lured us to that dull party on false pretences. I discovered that neither Mr. Worsley nor his Sub. had accepted the invitation to the party—found it out from Mrs. Rayner. Sorry for her, poor thing! She seems a lady, didn't even try to explain away her husband's snaring of us, though I saw she felt it. And what an extravagant dinner! Why, those flowers must have cost a fortune! And the things all came from D'Angelis, I recognised his dishes."

"First-rate wine," remarked Mr. Grace in a plethoric voice. "Wish I could afford such good stuff! Rayner must be a rich man. That feast anyhow must have cost a mint of money!"

"And did you see his wife's diamonds too? A new acquisition evidently—never saw them before. A little gold cross was all the girl ever wore. I expect he was bullied into that expensive gift, or perhaps she got it from some admirer."

"What cats you women are! Don't believe that girl could bully anybody though she tried. To my mind she's the most ladylike girl about just now. I felt sorry for her to-night. Her face had a sad look when she wasn't trying to talk to that dull fellow who took her in. I don't know where Rayner picked him up. I suppose he was asked to fill the Collector's place."

The conjugal remarks as the relays of carriages swept out of the Rayner's compound bore a strong resemblance to each other. The host and hostess were also keenly aware that the elaborate dinner-party had been less successful than any of its predecessors, though that knowledge affected them differently.

"I close my cheque book to dinners of that sort in future," said Mr. Rayner with a snarl, as he flung himself on a lounging chair in the verandah and betook himself to a cheroot. "Ungrateful pack, one and all! They only came to eat D'Angelis' excellent pÂtÉ de foie gras and toss down my magnums of the best champagne. Shan't get the chance again!"

Hester expressed herself by no means sorry to hear her husband register this vow, and added musingly:

"Small dinner parties can be delightful. You remember when we dined at Mrs. Fellowes' there were only eight of us in all. And how bright the talk was, and how prettily Mrs. Fellowes had decorated the table with those simple tendrils from her own hedge, and how beautifully those silver tankards shone—the Colonel's sporting trophies, his own and his father's, who had been in the same regiment. He told me so many interesting things about the Native Infantry that evening. And then those pretty old English ballads Mrs. Fellowes sang were delightful."

"Well, Hester, I'm sure you might have given us a song to-night! It would have made a variety. Why didn't you?"

"Because you said last time we had a dinner-party that nobody was to be asked to sing—that music seemed a disturbing element to the lords of creation over their wine—so I forbore. Or, rather, I should say, it was never suggested. I shouldn't think Mrs. Grace cared for music. But I'll give you a Christmas carol now before we go to bed if you like. It will chase away the gaudy note of our last big dinner-party. Oh, I'm so glad, Alfred, you've made up your mind not to have any more of those 'meetings of debtors and creditors,' as someone calls them," said Hester more cheerfully, as she went to the piano and pondered which of the old carols she would choose for this Christmas Eve, deciding that nothing could be more welcome than the hymn which calls us to "lay aside our crushing load and hear the angels sing."

Hester lingered for some time at the piano singing old favourites. When she rose from it, the little cloud which had been resting on her seemed overlaid by the spirit of peace. She felt vexed as she drew near her husband's chair that there was no response to the gladsome words. He sat staring gloomily into the darkness, and she did not venture to disturb him.

Next morning Hester was astir even earlier than usual. She had prepared little Christmas presents for each of the numerous servants, and enjoyed their evident gratified reception of them. Her ayah and Rosie were soon resplendent in her gift of new sarees. Even the malis were not forgotten, and deposited their big red watering-chattees in front of the house while they made salaams to the Dosani in return for their new turbans.

Mr. Rayner had been employing his early Christmas morning by making a big bonfire of old papers outside the verandah of his writing-room, coaxing the flames in the still air with a palm leaf. While so engaged a telegram was handed to him.

"Horrid news from Palaveram, Hester," he called to his wife. "Young Hyde shot himself last night after mess—just as I was trying to extricate him from his troubles. They've asked me to go out to arrange matters. Great nuisance! I meant to spend the day peacefully lounging about the verandah and smoking cheroots."

"Young Hyde dead by his own hand! Oh, poor boy, how dreadfully sad!" exclaimed Hester in horror, mourning another "rashly importunate gone to his death" in that long sad procession of broken lives.

Mr. Rayner left after breakfast, and Hester felt glad she could respond to the chimes of the Cathedral, which were ringing for worship on this Christmas morning. They seemed to have a special note for her saddened heart, telling of the wideness of God's mercy—like that fair, illimitable ocean in its shining peace which swept round these shores, and of which she could catch glimpses as she took her solitary drive to church to find strength and hope in the all-embracing symbols of Infinite Love.

She returned home soothed and helped by the familiar service which seemed to forge a link between the little village church at home and the noble Cathedral beneath the waving Indian palms.