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‘To U Po Kyin, Deputy Assistant Commissioner, retired, for long and loyal service and especially
for his timely aid in crushing a most dangerous rebellion in Kyauktada district’–and so on and so on.
Then two henchmen placed there for the purpose hoisted U Po Kyin upright, and he waddled to the
platform, bowed as low as his belly would permit, and was duly decorated and felicitated, while Ma
Kin and other supporters clapped wildly and fluttered their scarves from the gallery.
U Po Kyin had done all that mortal man could do. It was time now to be making ready for the next
world–in short, to begin building pagodas. But unfortunately, this was the very point at which his
plans went wrong. Only three days after the Governor’s durbar, before so much as a brick of those
atoning pagodas had been laid, U Po Kyin was stricken with apoplexy and died without speaking
again. There is no armour against fate. Ma Kin was heart-broken at the disaster. Even if she had built
the pagodas herself, it would have availed U Po Kyin nothing; no merit can be acquired save by one’s
own act. She suffers greatly to think of U Po Kyin where he must be now–wandering in God knows
what dreadful subterranean hell of fire, and darkness, and serpents, and genii. Or even if he has
escaped the worst, his other fear has been realised, and he has returned to the earth in the shape of a
rat or a frog. Perhaps at this very moment a snake is devouring him.
As to Elizabeth, things fell out better than she had expected. After Flory’s death Mrs Lackersteen,
dropping all pretences for once, said openly that there were no men in this dreadful place and the only
hope was to go and stay several months in Rangoon or Maymyo. But she could not very well send
Elizabeth to Rangoon or Maymyo alone, and to go with her practically meant condemning Mr
Lackersteen to death from delirium tremens. Months passed, and the rains reached their climax, and
Elizabeth had just made up her mind that she must go Home after all, penniless and unmarried, when–
Mr Macgregor proposed to her. He had had it in mind for a long time; indeed, he had only been
waiting for a decent interval to elapse after Flory’s death.
Elizabeth accepted him gladly. He was rather old, perhaps, but a Deputy Commissioner is not to be
despised–certainly he was a far better match than Flory. They are very happy. Mr Macgregor was
always a good-hearted man, but he has grown more human and likeable since his marriage. His voice
booms less, and he has given up his morning exercises. Elizabeth has grown mature surprisingly
quickly, and a certain hardness of manner that always belonged to her has become accentuated. Her
servants live in terror of her, though she speaks no Burmese. She has an exhaustive knowledge of the
Civil List, gives charming little dinner-parties and knows how to put the wives of subordinate
officials in their places–in short, she fills with complete success the position for which Nature had
designed her from the first, that of a burra memsahib.
THE END