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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/75402-0.txt b/75402-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..20d3296 --- /dev/null +++ b/75402-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12695 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75402 *** + + + + + + HER OWN PEOPLE + + By Mrs. B. M. CROKER + + Author of + "Diana Barrington," "Beyond the Pale," + "Peggy of the Bartons," "Terence," + "The Catspaw," etc. + + London: + Hurst and Blackett, Limited + Paternoster House, E.C. + + DEDICATION. + TO + EDITH M. VINCENT, + WITH THE AUTHOR'S LOVE + + + [Illustration: "God pardon me and give me rest."] + + + + + HER OWN PEOPLE + + + + + CHAPTER I + + +"Oh yes! I know what it is to be hard up myself! I'm hard up now!--but +I'll help you in another way. You must marry, Malcolm, my boy! Leave it +to me, and I'll find you a rich wife!" + +In making the foregoing boastful promise, Sir Horace Haig raised a +naturally harsh voice, and all but shouted his officious announcement. +The empty air seemed to echo the words, "rich wife"--"rich wife," their +regular measured tread to repeat, "rich wife"--"rich wife," as the two +men, uncle and nephew, hurried down a by-street in Homburg. + +There was good reason for haste, a neighbouring clock was chiming +the hour, and already they were unfashionably late for the morning +ceremonies at the Elisabeth Brunnen. + +"But----" began the prospective Benedict, in a doubtful tone. + +"My grandfather used to say," interrupted his uncle, in a loud +authoritative key, "that a man should marry young, and marry often. He +had four wives!" + +"And you, sir, have not had one!" rejoined his companion, with +unexpected audacity. + +"Oh--ah--well, yes--that is true--but the fact is, I had an unhappy +love affair--(a fiction invented on the spot)--a--a--blighted life--a +blighted life!!--it is a--a painful subject." + +Here Sir Horace suddenly turned into a narrow footpath, where, as it +was necessary to walk in single file, awkward questions were evaded, or +postponed. + +The subject of "a blighted life" was a spruce, straight-backed +gentleman of sixty, with a large hooked nose, and two keen little blue +eyes, sheltered by a pair of beetling brows; he dressed in a careful +middle-aged style, and wore his clothes, and his years, with ease. + +Sir Horace was the seventh Baronet--a resolute old bachelor, who +enjoyed a comfortable income, and was on the committee of the Bellona +Club. He claimed an immense acquaintance, and was fairly popular, being +recognised as a fine judge of a vintage, or a cook, and one of the best +bridge players in London. It is painful to add that he was incredibly +selfish, and never expended a shilling on any more deserving object +than Horace Haig, Baronet, and yet, in a hearty jovial fashion, he +contrived to extract an astonishing amount of hospitality and favours, +from other people! + +Such an individual was naturally the last man in the world to trouble +himself respecting his relations--and above all, his poor relations. +Nevertheless, on the present occasion he was accompanied by his nephew +and heir. Indeed it was in answer to his uncle's warm invitation (but +not at his expense) that Captain Haig was visiting Homburg before +rejoining his regiment in India. + +Malcolm Haig was a well-set-up young officer, with a pair of merry blue +eyes, and a touch of sunshine in his closely cropped locks. Sir Horace +introduced, with an air of bland complacency, a kinsman who did him +credit, made no demands on his patience, nor yet upon his pocket. All +the same, he had excellent reason to know that Malcolm was "hard up." +His private means were nominal, and he was about to conclude a year's +leave in England--a year's leave is often an expensive luxury. Under +such circumstances his banker's account would be uncomfortably low--in +fact, Malcolm had said as much. Sir Horace was disposed to exert his +social influence, and endeavour to do the poor young fellow a good +turn. He was handsome and well born; if his purse was lean, he had an +adventurous spirit and a susceptible heart. + +As uncle and nephew followed the winding path which led to the +far-famed Elisabeth Well, the latter was struck by the exceptional +beauty of their surroundings, the admirably-kept greensward, the shady +trees and flowering shrubs, on which the early dew was still glistening. + +There was a delicious perfume of roses in the air, and the inspiriting +sound of a string band in the near distance. + +"I say," began the young man, now walking beside his companion, "I had +no idea that Homburg was like this--half park, half garden, and so +pretty." + +"Hadn't you!" rejoined his uncle gruffly; "well, I suppose it is! This +is my twenty-seventh season--I've got over my first raptures by this +time." + +"I don't believe I could ever come back to the same place twenty-seven +times." + +"Think it argues a lack of originality? It would depend on its +attractions. You don't want to go back to Perapore twenty-seven times, +eh?" + +"By Jove, no--nor twice!" he answered, with emphasis. + +"But here it is different, my boy. It is good for one's liver, it is +gay, and, as you remark, pretty. There is any amount of entertaining; +dinners and luncheons; there is golf and tennis. I meet the people +I know--or want to know. In short, Homburg has become an agreeable +habit, which there is no occasion to relinquish. And here we are!" he +announced, as they emerged from a shady walk into a wide and crowded +promenade. + +At one end of this promenade was the celebrated well, at present +closely invested by a number of votaries, who were sipping their first +glass, or waiting to be served by the active, blue-gowned maidens. + +Here were young and old, society folk and nobodies, a Russian Grand +Duke stood elbow to elbow with a Scotch grocer, and the Countess of +Marmalade was patiently waiting till Cora Sans Souci was served. + +As soon as Sir Horace had swallowed his glass (he took it warm), and +having vainly urged his nephew to pledge him in another, he carried him +off to stroll up and down, between the bandstand and the jewellers' +shops. As they sauntered along he saluted almost every second person, +and indicated the chief notabilities to his relation. + +"Here comes the Duke of Luxembourg," and he swept off his hat, "getting +very shaky on his pins, poor old boy. This man passing now with the +lady in the Ascot frock is De Jeers, the great Jew financier. She +is Lady Merrythought, and getting all she can out of him, I'll lay +long odds. The pale girl in the white linen gown is the notorious +'Sauta'--the Spanish dancer. She stabbed a man with a hat pin the other +day. This couple comparing prescriptions are the Bishop of Timbucktoo +and Dooley, the steeplechase jock. The lady with the herd of Borzois +is the Duchess of Valetta, and the little woman with the brown poodle +is Madame Cuzco; that poodle is a European celebrity, and has his own +manservant and barber. Now let us go and sit on one of the seats and +watch the madding crowd." + +"All right," assented his nephew, "they certainly are a +wonderfully-mixed lot! Look at these two swarthy giantesses--regular +six-footers--a most formidable couple!" + +"Oh, the Misses Rookes--twins. They go by the name of the 'Powerful' +and the 'Terrible'!" + +Captain Haig laughed aloud. + +"Yes," resumed his mentor, "and this little dressy woman, with +tremendous knee action, who prances alongside of the rosy-cheeked +youth, is Mrs. Waller, with her third husband. They are known as 'the +Skipper and the Boy'!" + +"Splendid!" ejaculated the other. + +"And that red-faced man yonder is Turnbull, the great traveller. He is +called 'the Crimson Rambler!' Rather good, eh?" + +"Rather--but who are these coming now?--this girl and the squat old +woman--walking in a sort of crowd, with a dog?" + +"Oh, that is Madame de Godez--Madame de Gaudy they call her--a +fabulously wealthy widow. She always reminds me of a toad, with her +dark, mottled face, bright black eyes, and huge chinless mouth. Madame +is a personage here, as you may see. Gives wonderful dinners and +picnics, subscribes to everything, and is quite in the smart set!" + +"Great Scotland!" ejaculated his listener, "why, she looks for all the +world like an old Portuguese half-caste!" + +"She is Portuguese, I believe; of blue, not black, blood." + +"And the girl?--she is a jewel, if the other is a toad. The princess +and the witch. What do they call her here?" + +"Miss Chandos. She is Madame's adopted daughter, and lives with old de +Godez--goes everywhere, and has a good time." + +"What do you call a good time?" questioned Captain Haig as his eyes +followed the de Godez group. + +"She has everything money can purchase, each wish forestalled, +boundless admiration, forty-guinea frocks, and as many proposals of +marriage as there are days in the week." + +"Oh, I say, come!" expostulated his nephew. + +"Well, I know for a fact that she refused Dormer Lisle and Tubby +Coote, and, they say, Lord Caraway. Observe that young officer in the +Frankfort Dragoons rushing on his fate, and the dark, foreign-looking +chap leading the dog is Prince Tossati, an Italian prince, long +pedigree, lean purse!" + +Captain Haig stared intently at the group, which had halted to greet +some friends within a few yards of his seat--at the stout old woman, +who had no chin or neck to speak of, but a shrewd, piercing eye--a +bargaining eye--and a far-reaching, authoritative voice. She was +dressed with great magnificence, in a crimson and black foulard, and +in her ears blazed two large diamonds. There was something tragic in +the intensity of the effort and the insufficiency of the result; for +all her pains Madame de Godez was merely an ugly old woman who waddled +like a duck. During her progress she talked incessantly in a high +falsetto--chiefly to a man who strolled beside her--listening with an +air of reverent attention, his head bent, his hands loosely clasped +behind his back. It would be difficult to imagine a more complete +contrast than that presented by Madame de Godez and her niece. Miss +Chandos was a tall and graceful demoiselle, who moved with deliberate, +indolent gait; her flowing white gown was studiously plain; she wore +no ornaments, and few would have cast a second glance at her large +black hat. It was a certain air of personal distinction which arrested +attention, for if her toilet was simple, her carriage was regal. Her +head was firmly set upon a long white throat, and the face beneath the +shady hat was unquestionably beautiful. The girl's complexion indicated +the morn and dew of youth; her features were cut with the precision of +a cameo; her eyes and hair were dark, and both were glorious. + +The young lady's manner was considerably more animated than her +movements. She talked and laughed gaily and uninterruptedly, with a +slim, sallow cavalier (obviously her bondslave) who conducted Madame's +morose-looking pet by a long leather strap. + +This animal was an elderly terrier, who did not appreciate these +early promenades where he was restrained from speaking to his own +species--and was secretly dosed with nasty waters. He loathed the +foreign food, foreign manners, foreign tongue--he never met an English +pal, or enjoyed a day's good English sport. Oh, where were the rabbits, +the cats, the friends and the enemies of his youth? He was an ill-used, +expatriated animal, as surly and injured as any other old gentleman +compelled to reside on the Continent against his inclination. Madame +de Godez invariably addressed the poor creature as "Dog Darling," for +she was passionately attached to him, despite his churlish humours; but +he remained his own dog, and nobody's darling, as he was half-dragged, +half-led, in the train of a triumphal progress. + +Captain Haig's eyes dwelt long on this particular group, and his +uncle, noting the fact, made a sudden and startling remark. + +"Malcolm, my boy, that girl would be the very wife for you!" and when +he had enunciated this opinion, he coughed, and gave his neat washing +tie an emphatic twitch. + +"Wife for me, sir?" repeated his relative, "but I'm not looking for +one!" + +"No! well it is never too late to mend--and fully time you were making +a search. Handsome heiresses won't fall into your mouth, and nothing +but an heiress will suit. I may live till I'm ninety, you know--and, +anyway, I'm a poor man. Don't wait till you are a stiff, stocky old +fellow, for, if you do, you _may_ wait. But now, when you are a +smart-looking chap, and I can give you a shove, is your time. There is +a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to +_a_ fortune." + +"I don't think a lady with a fortune would care to swelter in India," +remarked his companion, "and I could not bring myself to live at home +on my wife's money." + +"Hut-tut-tut!" exclaimed Sir Horace, and his eyebrows assumed an +expression which invariably struck terror to the hearts of club +waiters. "That sort of talk is bosh! It's of no consequence which has +the coin, so long as it's _there_--and I could show you a dozen men who +live quite happily with wealthy wives--and haven't a rap of their own!" + +There was a silence for two or three moments, broken only by the buzz +of voices and the strains of the "Valse Bleu." At last the younger man +spoke. + +"What sort of a girl is this Miss Chandos?" + +"The sort of girl you see. A beautiful creature who carries herself +superbly, knows how to talk, and to walk, and to put on her clothes. As +far as I'm aware, she neither gambles, swears, smokes nor drinks!" + +"Good Lord, I should hope not!" ejaculated his nephew. + +"But, mind you" (here Sir Horace's tone changed into a graver +key), "she is perfectly sensible of her own value--though affable +and gracious to all. Perhaps a little supercilious to her foreign +slaves--especially the Italian--she has a horror of dusky complexions +and black blood which amounts to a craze." + +"Then what about the aunt?" inquired Captain Haig, with rather +malicious significance. + +"My dear boy, I've already assured you that Madame is of _sang +azur_--an old Alcantara family. She married a Scotchman who made +a fortune in indigo. The girl has been brought up in England, and +polished abroad. I believe she is twenty-two years of age. From +personal experience I am in a position to inform you that she can keep +her temper, hold her tongue, write a fine hand, and add up a bridge +account." + +"Oh, well, that is something." + +"The old woman has given her a superior education, and lavished money +on her, and now takes her everywhere, for the pure pleasure of the +reflected glory she enjoys as aunt of the celebrated Miss Chandos! The +girl is her hobby. Instead of cats, china, or old furniture, her craze +is Verona, and she carries her about, and exhibits her, like a prize +animal, enters her for all the big shows, such as this--and when her +property comes in an easy first, looks on with a grin extending from +ear to ear, and for all I know, meeting under her wig!" + +Here Sir Horace paused, and struck his cane forcibly on the gravel as +he added: + +"Miss Chandos is the beauty here this year; all the world is at her +feet." + +"And what does she say to all the world?" + +"Nothing particular. Takes it as a matter of course--though she is not +a bit conceited, to give her her due--smiles and laughs, as you see, +and turns to conquests new." + +"Such as the chap in the blue coat! Are the poor devils _never_ out of +uniform?" + +"Never, except at tennis, and then they change before leaving the +pavilion. Miss Chandos would be a splendid match for some needy baron +or princelet. She will come in for fifteen thousand a year, and the +money is all there--I happen to know it for a fact." + +"Fifteen thousand a year--and beauty--will never stoop to a poor +captain in the line!" + +"Why not!" argued Sir Horace, "a good-looking chap, a future baronet, +with a pedigree that goes back to the Picts, is not to be despised!" + +"He will be despised, all the same," muttered his nephew, in a tone of +sombre conviction. + +"And I tell you, you can't do better, Malcolm. I'll present you; it's +an intimate sort of life--we all meet three or four times daily; golf +and picnics are easily arranged. Then there is the Casino Terrace of a +night, and romantic and sequestered walks hard by. In a week you should +be able to report progress. The game lies to your hand!" + +"I assure you, sir, I really could not face it; it's too cold-blooded! +too bare-faced--and there is something unnatural in sitting here, on a +bench before breakfast, coolly discussing a possible marriage with a +girl to whom I've never even spoken!" + +"A marriage discussed before breakfast is far more likely to be a +success than one arranged after dinner!" responded Sir Horace, with +knitted brows. "I'm afraid you are a fool! What have you against it?" + +"Nothing. I admit that Miss Chandos is the prettiest girl I've seen +for ages. I admire her immensely. Now if she had but a few hundreds a +year----" + +"She would not do at all," interrupted his uncle impatiently. "Well! +the gods cannot help a man who refuses opportunity. Why should you not +try your luck?" + +"What's the good--it will only be adding to her scalps." + +"Nothing venture, nothing have," declared Sir Horace, rising as he +spoke. "Come, we must be moving--it is long past the time for my second +glass." + +Captain Haig got upon his legs with some reluctance, gave himself a +little shake, stamped down his trousers, and in another moment was +walking away in the footsteps of his mentor. + + + + + CHAPTER II + + +Sir Horace, followed by his nephew, made his way briskly to the well, +and having cast one searching glance among the crowd, immediately +descended the steps, where in a few moments, he and Captain Haig found +themselves wedged in closest proximity to Madame de Godez. On nearer +inspection, she really proved to be one of the ugliest old women in +Homburg, in spite of her costly clothes, elaborate black wig, and +brilliant earrings: but it was a shrewd--nay, a clever face; and the +countenance expressed not only determination, but animation. Madame +instantly accosted her neighbour in a sort of bleating foreign key, +each syllable most distinctly articulated. + +"Oh ho, my friend! so here you are! Just get my glass filled, will you? +it is my own propertee," and as she spoke Madame handed Sir Horace a +gorgeous red and gold tumbler. "This ees your nephew, ees it not?" and +she looked up at Malcolm, with an eager twinkling gaze, and nodded her +head with an air of affable encouragement. + +"Good Lord!" he said to himself, "why the old woman talks the purest +Chi-Chi!" + +Meanwhile the old woman was inspecting him with her quick black eyes, +and as he swept off his Homburg hat, and stood momentarily bare-headed, +she was aware of his shining locks, deep blue eyes and winning smile +(oh, the hypocrite!). Here was a young man, with the face of the hero +in a picture-book. Between two sips of water she remarked: + +"Your nephew is not one beet like you, Sir Horace. He is quite +nice-looking." + +"Oh, but, dear lady, you should have seen _me_ at his age," protested +the Baronet, with a ludicrous effort to look languishing, but the +beetling brows frustrated the attempt. + +"Now do not pretend that you were handsome," she retorted, giving him a +playful poke, "for I will nott believe eet." + +"How cruel of you, madame," he rejoined, as he took her tumbler and +held it, whilst he gazed down into her swarthy, wrinkled face with an +air of melancholy reproach, "when I am prepared to believe anything you +tell me, and to swear that you were the belle of--was it Lisbon?" + +"Verona," screeched the quondam beauty, ignoring Sir Horace and his +tender question--"where is Dog Darling? Do take care that he is not +trampled on." + +"He is all right, auntie," replied her niece, "I left him with the +Prince." + +"Ah," with a gasp of relief, "then thatt is arl-right. This is Sir +Horace's nephew, Verona--my niece, Miss Chandos." + +The young lady looked at Malcolm gravely, and inclined her head +an inch or two. Unlike her aunt, her appearance challenged the +most critical inspection, and bore, triumphantly, the ordeal of a +searching gaze. The shape of her face was perfect, her beautiful +dark eyes were merry and intelligent, but the short upper lip was +slightly--slightly--supercilious. + +"A frightful crowd, is it not?" she observed. + +"Yes, and getting worse every moment," declared Sir Horace, taking the +remark entirely to himself; "allow me to pilot you out of it," and to +the amusement and admiration of his companion, he proceeded to manœuvre +madame and her niece far away from their own party. Giving the former +his arm up the steps, he said: + +"Malcolm, I will leave you to look after Miss Chandos." + +"Who is very well able to take care of herself, thank you," she +answered. Then, turning to Malcolm as they strolled along in the wake +of their elders, she continued: + +"Have you come to do the cure?" + +"Well, no, I'm merely an outsider--a spectator," he confessed, "but +I suppose I must drink something to give me the run of the place. +Something to talk about, and to establish a common interest with other +people." + +"Very well, then," she rejoined with equal gravity, "between seven and +eight o'clock, you take three glasses of the Elisabeth Brunnen--with a +promenade of fifteen minutes between each. This, with a salt bath at +eleven, and a couple of tumblers of the Staal Brunnen at three o'clock, +will instantly place you on a proper footing in society. Now"--and she +came to a standstill--"where _is_ that dog?" + +"Are you his keeper?" he asked in a bantering tone. + +"Not exactly; I left him in charge of Prince Allessandro when we went +down to the well." + +"Proud animal!" ejaculated Captain Haig, "it is not every terrier who +has a Prince for dog boy!" + +"Dog _boy_," she echoed, "what do you mean?" + +"It is an Indian term. All Europe dogs there keep their servant body to +look after them, and accompany them out walking." + +"Oh, I see, and the Prince is doing dog boy for _me_. Well, he is quite +devoted to Dog Darling. You were going to say something?" and she +looked at her companion interrogatively. + +"I was," he admitted, with a laugh, "but second thoughts are best." + +"But I should like to hear your first thought. I insist on your telling +me; it is sure to be far more entertaining than its successor." + +"Oh, well, I was merely going to quote an old saw!" + +"Yes?" + +"Love me, love my dog!" + +"A decrepit saying, and entirely out of fashion. Love me, and loathe +my dog, is far more up to date, especially since these lap dogs are +the rage. Then why not hate me, and love my dog! There are one or two +people--whose _dogs_ I adore. Oh, dear me! just look at auntie! who +cannot be trusted out of my sight. She is eating peaches. That is Sir +Horace's doing! He has offered them to her, and she cannot resist, +although she is strictly forbidden to touch raw fruit!" + +"Would you imply that my respectable uncle is playing the part of the +serpent?" + +"No, but auntie is here for the cure, in order to get thin, and she +won't give herself a chance. She promises and vows all manner of things +to her doctor, and breaks her word as soon as she is out of his sight. +She sits up late, she eats creams and rich dishes, takes no exercise, +and is full of stern resolutions for to-morrow--it is always to-morrow!" + +"I gather that between your aunt and the dog your responsibilities are +serious." + +"Yes, very serious," she answered with a gay little nod. + +As they loitered along together, Captain Haig was sensible of the many +admiring eyes which were turned towards his companion, and of certain +envious scowls which fell to him. Half glances, whole stares, beaming +smiles, and impressive salutes attended the lady's progress. Yes, for +sheer, blazing, aggressive admiration Miss Chandos received the palm. + +After all, he asked himself, what was she to be thus acclaimed? A tall +girl, with a pair of wonderful dark eyes, a brilliant complexion, a +radiant smile! + +"I suppose you come abroad every year?" he questioned, after a pause. + +"Oh, no," she replied, "we live abroad. And you?" + +"Yes; but my abroad is Asia; yours, I conclude, is Europe. My abroad +spells duty, and yours pleasure." + +"Not altogether," rejoined Miss Chandos. "We live out of England as a +duty to an animal. We roam the continent because of the dog!" + +Captain Haig looked at her with a puzzled air, then gave a short +incredulous laugh. + +"But, I assure you that it is quite true," she continued, "Auntie is +devoted to Dog Darling, and owing to these dreadful new regulations +he would have to go into quarantine in England for six months; either +that, or be left at Calais. Such a separation would break his dear +heart--and be the death of auntie." + +"And so you remain an exile as long as he lives." + +"Yes." + +"Is he old?" + +"About nine; but he comes of a long-lived family, and has a fine +constitution." + +"If I were you, I should administer some of the waters," suggested +Captain Haig. + +"If you mean with felonious intent, I repudiate your heartless advice. +I am sincerely attached to Toby." + +"But are you not also attached to home?" + +"Well, you see, we have no home. When we were in England we lived at +hotels--and I am thoroughly at home on the Continent." + +"And know it well?" + +"Yes, some places, such as Paris, the Riviera, and Aix. I've also been +to Rome and Venice. We always winter in the South." + +"Possibly on account of Toby," suggested the young man. "I absolutely +decline to call him Darling." + +"You have made a sort of half-guess," she answered with a smile. +"I will not conceal from you that a certain chemist at Nice is a +celebrated dog doctor, and once, when Darling had bronchitis, auntie +stayed on a month longer, on purpose to be near him, although we had +taken our rooms at Venice. Is this your first visit to Germany?" + +"Yes, I only arrived yesterday. I had no idea Homburg was such a +charming place--partly garden, park and forest. My uncle never prepared +me." + +"I don't fancy the beauties of nature would appeal to Sir Horace." + +"No, he is a practical man. If he were shown the mountains of the moon +in a strong telescope, he would immediately wonder if there was grouse +on them!" + +"Then he and auntie would thoroughly agree. Are you remaining long?" + +"I'm on my way back to India, worse luck, and sail from Marseilles in +ten days." + +"Ah, so you don't like the East?" + +"No, I suppose because I'm nailed out there by duty. Just as you +are held fast by the dog. Of course, it's the best country for +soldiering--lots of room to manœuvre and turn round." + +"I've always cherished a wild wish to see India," she said. "Auntie +lived there for years, but she abhors it, and has not one single good +word for the country. Other people rave in its praise. What do you say, +Captain Haig--speaking unofficially?" + +"Well"--and he took a long breath--"I admit that, like the curate's +egg, parts of it are good. But where I am stationed it is all cotton +soil, sugar cane, and sun." + +"No antiquities?" + +"Nothing more venerable than the oldest resident! Of course, your aunt +was born out there?" he rashly ventured, then could have bitten his +tongue in two. He glanced at his companion, but she appeared to be +serenely unconscious of any _faux pas_, the exquisite pink in her fair +cheek had not deepened in shade, as she answered with an air of cool +reflection. + +"I'm not sure. I don't think so. But I know that she was married out +there!" + +"Ah!" he ejaculated, "then, perhaps, that is why she dislikes the +country?" + +Miss Chandos gave him a quick look and made no reply. Captain Haig +again regretted having spoken unadvisedly, and on this occasion he felt +distinctly snubbed. + +"Do you play golf?" asked the lady abruptly. + +"No, I cannot say that I play," he stammered, "but my uncle does." + +"That sounds exactly like a sentence from Ollendorf. 'I do not ride on +horseback, but the sister of our neighbour does.' You really must take +to golf!" + +"Verona, child," screamed her aunt, "what are you loitering for? +Come along, this sun is too hot for Dog Darling. We must be going. +Captain Haig," turning to Malcolm, "your uncle has promised to +bring you to dine with me to-night, at Ritter's. I have engaged +a table--seven o'clock is the hour. So mind you are not late! +Good-bye--good-bye--good-bye!" + +As she made her adieux, madame--who was decidedly solid in figure--was +respectfully hoisted into a smart victoria. Verona took a place beside +her. Dog Darling nimbly accepted the front seat, and in another moment +a pair of smart bay steppers had borne the trio out of sight. + + + + + CHAPTER III + + +"I flatter myself I managed that rather neatly," remarked the Baronet, +as he surveyed his nephew with a complacent grin, "an introduction, a +_tête-à-tête_, and an invitation, all within half-an-hour." + +"You could not have done more, sir, had you been a London chaperone of +twenty seasons. I assure you I am duly grateful." + +"And I tell you what, young man," resumed Sir Horace, now turning to +pace beside him, "whilst you were laying siege to the young lady's +heart, I was compelled to listen to a history of her aunt's liver +affection, and an alarming account of the condition of her internal +organs. Some old women have only three topics: disease, domestics, +and diet. Besides these, Madame de Godez has a famous appetite--for +compliments." + +"Which I presume you were good enough to feed." + +"Yes; in my experience, the uglier the old beldame, the more she craves +for admiration. I am deservedly well established in Madame's good +graces--in fact, in her present frame of mind, I believe she would +marry me to-morrow--if I asked her!" + +"She is enormously rich, and looks the soul of good nature," urged the +young man, and his tone implied encouragement. + +"Quite true; but I have lived very comfortably without a wife for +sixty-one years, and I'm not going to be such an old fool as to take +one now, even if she _is_ worth her weight in gold. No, no, Malcolm, +my boy, joking apart, if the dowager favours you, and the young lady +accepts you, you can chuck the Service to-morrow, and forfeit your +return ticket, for your fortune is made!" + +"Don't you think you are going ahead too fast, sir? For all you and I +know, there may be twenty Richmonds in the field." + +"No," responded Sir Horace, with emphasis, "your only serious rival +is young Prince Tossati, the chap she left to mind the dog and carry +the parasol. He is one of the five sons of an impoverished Italian +duke, who has a palace full of priceless pictures and statuary, which +he may not sell--desperately as he is in need of ready money. His +pedigree goes back to the Cæsars, but unfortunately that is also +non-transferable. I don't believe the poor beggar can lay hands on +more than six hundred a year, and the sole chances for the sons--are +heiresses. One has married an American girl in Pork, and our friend +Allessandro has figuratively marked the fair Verona for his own." + +"He is an insignificant little chap! as dark as an Arab," sneered +Captain Haig. + +"Yes," assented his uncle, "I declare when I see him, I can't help +looking for the monkey and the organ! but he has a title--a real one, +mind you--and I believe Madame would give one of her eyes, or even go +without her dinner for a whole week, to be in a position to say, 'my +niece, the Princess!'" + +"Oh, but she is not really her niece," objected Malcolm, with a +touch of impatience. "Why, Madame is exactly like an old Portuguese +half-caste, such as one sees on the West coast!" + +"I can only tell you, that the girl has lived with her for twenty +years," responded Sir Horace with solemn deliberation, "and no one has +ever heard of, or seen, any other relations." + +"And how did Madame de Godez get into Society?" + +"Possibly because she did not care a straw about it, for one thing; for +another, she makes no false pretences, is notoriously good-natured, and +enormously rich, and she has also a fair supply of homely honesty and a +brusque wit." + +"And where did her fortune come from?" + +"Ah! now you go beyond me!" said Sir Horace, "from piracy, for all I +know!" and he laughed. "Madame is rather like the stock character of a +pirate's wife. But one thing is certain, the money is all there. Madame +will give us a first-rate dinner to-night, so don't eat a heavy lunch. +It will be none of your Homburg affairs, no occasion to bring your +purse and ask for the bill at dessert!" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Oh, it's a good old local custom. Friends invite you to dine at +their hotel, and you go. They pay for the flowers, and perhaps the +coffee--everyone settles for themselves--and there you are!" + +"There I should not be," rejoined his nephew, with a laugh of contempt. + +"I grant that it is undoubtedly a moderate form of entertainment, but +you meet your acquaintance. Of course, there are other dinners, too, +the dear familiar kinds. See here--" suddenly coming to a halt in front +of a flower stall not far from Ritter's Hotel, and lifting as he spoke +a bunch of exquisite roses to his face--"I'll send this to the aunt; +the old lady likes little attentions. Do you buy one for the niece. We +can leave them with the hall porter as we pass." + +"Oh, but I say," expostulated his companion, "I don't like to send a +bouquet to a girl I've only spoken to once; she would think it such +awful cheek." + +"Not at all," replied Sir Horace, "it is perfectly correct here. At +Homburg you do as Homburg does. I know my way about, my boy; pay up +and look pleasant; four marks, and--oh, you may as well pay for me too. +I've no change. I'll make it all right by-and-by." + +Captain Haig nodded, as he produced a small gold piece and handed it +across the stand, well aware that he was about to present not one, but +two bouquets. + +"You don't think she'd like a little dog as well?" suggested Sir Horace +facetiously, as he eyed some black Spitz puppies, which were being +hawked about hard by. + +"No, I fancy Miss Chandos finds one dog enough, to go on with." + +His uncle gave a loud harsh laugh as they moved away, each carrying a +superb bunch of La France roses. + +Madame de Godez and her niece were at _déjeûner_ when the two bouquets +made their appearance. To be perfectly correct, Miss Chandos had +finished and was busy with a pencil and paper; but her aunt was still +actively engaged. + +"What do you think of Sir Horace's nephew, Verona?" she enquired, as +she turned over the flowers and sniffed at them. + +"Oh," looking up from her writing, "he is not bad." + +"Bad--not bad! whatt a girl to talk so! Why he is very good-looking." + +"Yes, I suppose he is; and it is rather a relief to meet with a +stranger who has never been here before, and does not know anyone, or +even his way about. I declare his ignorance is quite refreshing!" + +"O--ah! he will not be long ignorant," replied Madame, squeezing up her +eyes, "his uncle is worldly wise. _He_ will educate him!" + +"Oh, auntie, you know you promised Dr. Krauss you would not touch fruit +and cream, and you have had two helpings, besides macaroni and fish. +You really must not be so foolish." + +"Now, now, now, Verona," she protested peevishly, "do let me a-lone! +Why may I not eat my food? It is all I have to enjoy. You spoil my +appetite; you always worry so. Here, Dog Darling! come and taste this +lobstar cutlet--so good, dear! Why!" with a gasp of surprise, "he won't +touch it!" + +"Wise dog," said Verona, "he knows what agrees with him. I'm sure +animals are more sensible about their food than we are. I must write +out the cards for the dinner table now. We shall be thirty with these +two men." + +"Their flowers may as well be sent down for the table," suggested +Madame (who dearly loved similar small economies). "Let me see, dear, +the names," and she glanced over a half-sheet of paper. "Lord and Lady +Bosworth, Monsieur and Madame de la Vallance, General Huntly, Prince +Tossati--oh, by the way, my dear child, why were you so unkind to him +to-day, leaving the poor fellow to carry your things, and lead about +Dog Darling, whilst you walked off with a stranger? Better not do so +again. He was hurt, I could see, he looked quite white with emotion!" + +"Dearest auntie, he never could look white. His skin is the colour of +_café au lait_ when he turns pale--he merely becomes sallow." + +"He is a handsome young fellow, with the blood of emperors in his +veins." + +"Maybe so, but he is as swarthy as a Moor. He might be Emperor of +Morocco. His hair is lank, his eyes are two ink pools. I am sure he is +a most estimable young man, who writes every day to his mother, but if +we get up tableaux, I solemnly warn you that I shall certainly invite +him to do Othello." + +"O--ah, Verona, for shame of you! You prefer the red-haired young +officer." + +"Red hair--oh, oh!" she laughed. "You know very well, auntie, that I +prefer no one." + +"Because you are so hard to please--so proud! Pray, what is the +difference between Tossati and Sir Horace's nephew?" + +"Well, if you ask me, I should say, that one was a black prince, and +the other a white man!" + +"Oh, my! my! my! whatt things you do say! quite shocking--though you +are but joking; you are nevarre in earnest--nevarre!" + +"But occasionally I am," retorted the girl, suddenly rising. "For +instance, I am in earnest now, when I tell you that your mud bath will +be ready in a quarter of an hour." And as she spoke, she rang a loud +peal on the bell. + +"Oh, no, no!" wailed her companion, beating the air with two little +dumpy hands. "I will not to-day, I will--not. These early hours do kill +me. I am too fatigued. No, I will go and lie down for a while and be +fresh for this afternoon. I will not take the bath, I will not." + +"But really, auntie----" + +"Really, child, I promised the duchess to go to her bazaar. I know you +are going to play golf. No, I will not take this nasty mud bath--you +must not insist--you must _not_!" + +"Well, I shall tell Dr. Krauss," said Verona, nodding her head, "you +know you are dreadfully afraid of him." + +"I will take it to-morrow--really and truly--oh, truly, I give you my +word! Look here, dearie, I cannot take Dog Darling to the bazaar. I +think you might allow him to go with you to the Golf. Do!" + +"No, indeed, he fetches half the balls, then loses them, and disgraces +me." + +"Oh, well, then I must ask Minette to get a fly and take him for a nice +drive round Saarbruck. The air will do him good, poor darling!" + + + + + CHAPTER IV + + +The dinner at Ritter's proved a brilliant affair, but Sir Horace +experienced an unexpected disappointment, when he discovered that +instead of being a guest at a pleasant little informal meal, he and his +nephew were two in a party of thirty. The menu was everything that +a Homburg menu could, and should, be; the company were _crême de la +crême_; but the crafty Baronet realised that this kind of entertainment +afforded no opportunities to advance his schemes. He and Malcolm might +as well have dined at their own hostelry--save that in that case, they +would have been obliged to pay for their food. + +A long table, carefully screened from public gaze, was decorated with +a profusion of roses and silver; the company were smart, and Madame +herself was magnificent in black and gold, with touches of crimson--her +natural taste was for the primary colours, and many jewels, but this +weakness was sternly repressed by a strong-willed French maid. + +The hostess was supported by a titled guest on either hand, ate +a hearty (and extremely unwholesome) meal, and enjoyed herself +prodigiously. Sir Horace sat beside a talkative, elderly dame, a +neighbour entirely after his own heart. They were in the same set, and +exchanged quotations from letters, highly spiced morsels of gossip, and +nodded and cackled, as they consumed various delicacies, and sipped dry +champagne. + +Malcolm Haig was by no means so fortunate, for he was placed between a +deaf man and a plain dowdy woman. Far, far away, on the opposite side +of the table, he espied Miss Chandos--and the Prince--the former was +more beautiful than ever without her hat; the wealth of her wonderful +hair, exposed in all its glory, made a fitting frame for her brilliant +face. + +She wore a gown of white lace, with long sleeves, a chain of splendid +pearls, and to his romantic imagination seemed the dazzling embodiment +of a princess in a fairy tale. The Prince, who was eating little, +talked to her incessantly, enforcing his conversation with flashing +eyes and quick, impassioned gestures. + +What was he saying? Malcolm watched and wondered; finally he arrived at +the conclusion that he was making love after the most approved Italian +mode, and became sensible of a flaming desire to go round and punch +his sleek head. + +Poor Allessandro! he really was devoted to the lovely English +Signorina. He could not sleep, he would not eat, he chiefly existed +on cigarettes and her society--and yet he was a little afraid of his +enchantress. She was so fascinating, yet elusive; always charming and +gracious, but when he became sentimental she laughed with heartless +indifference and brushed all his tender compliments aside. And then +she was so rich! Mother of Heaven, what a fortune! With this girl, +and her money, his existence would be heaven on earth. Good-bye for +ever to insolent creditors, to third-class tickets, shabby clothes and +undignified poverty. + +"Ah, Verona," he murmured, "you are called after one of our most +beautiful towns; you ought to belong to Italy." + +"Do you think so?" she answered gaily; "then, in that case, you should +belong to Turkey!" + +"I would ever belong to where _you_ were," he murmured tenderly. + +Miss Chandos merely helped herself to a salted almond. She had lovely +hands. + +"Why were you called Verona?" he pursued. + +"I have not the faintest idea. I suppose they thought it more uncommon +than Florence!" + +"Did you never ask them the reason?" he continued in his soft voice. + +"If by 'them' you allude to my father and mother, I am sorry to say I +have not even a dim recollection of either." + +"Ah! So you are an orphan?" + +She bowed her head. + +"How sad! How I pity you!" he ejaculated. "Now _I_ have the good +fortune to have a charming father and mother--my mother is a beautiful +woman. How much I should like to make you known to her. I assure you +she would love you as a--daughter." + +"It is very kind of you to say so, Prince." + +"She lives in a noble old castle. It still retains many splendid +pictures and works of art. Perhaps you would visit her there one +day? It has such a wonderful view, being high on the top of a +mountain--almost in the clouds." + +"Almost a castle in the air?" suggested Verona. + +"Yes, yes, it is; and I, too, have my real castle in the air," he added +with tremulous significance. "Oh, such an adorable one." This speech +was accompanied by a long, intense look. + +"Don't you think these castles in the air cost a good deal to keep up?" +remarked Miss Chandos. "I cannot afford to build them myself." Then +she smiled her sweet smile, and turned away to address her left-hand +neighbour. + +All this time Malcolm was inwardly fuming, although he was eating his +dinner critically and carrying on a conversation with the lady beside +him, a lady who was blessed with a copious stock of words and laboured +under the delusion that she was a brilliant and dramatic talker. She +speedily discovered that her neighbour had been in India, and plied him +with opinions, suggestions and numerous questions with regard to native +life. + +At last, utterly wearied by this severe cross-examination, he exclaimed: + +"I am truly sorry my information appears so meagre, but the truth is +that India--real India--is to the European a closed book!" + +"Oh no, surely not!" she protested warmly. "Only stupid, lazy people +say so!" + +"Well, I have been out in the East seven years, and I know precious +little of the natives, although I speak their language. I was born +there, too, and sent home as a kid. My father was a judge in the +Punjaub for thirty years. Shall I tell you what he said?" + +"Oh, pray do!" + +"That we Europeans are like drops of oil on a great ocean of water, and +will never penetrate or mix!" + +"Really! Well, I am afraid I do not share his opinion," declared the +listener with a shrug of her round shoulders. + +"You have been in the country, of course?" + +"No; but I have read about it, which amounts to almost the same thing. +Have you seen a book called 'Thrills from the Hills, or The Curse of +the Khitmagar'?" + +"Yes, as it happens, I have! A fellow on board ship had it, and I +looked into it." + +"Tell me, how did it strike you?" she demanded, and the lady's key was +pitched in the imperative mood. + +"As absolutely the greatest drivel and rot I ever read--and that is +saying a good deal! It is no more like India than it's like Homburg! +I should say that the author took her facts from fiction, her local +colour from Earl's Court, and her grammar from her cook!" + +There was an unusually spacious pause. Captain Haig glanced furtively +at his companion, and noticed that her face had become alarmingly red. +Presently she remarked in a repressed, but throaty voice: + +"It is a misfortune that the book fails to meet with your approval. As +it happens it was written by my sister," and she turned her head away +and gave him a view of nearly the whole of her shoulders. + +"Well, what was said was said!" reflected her neighbour, apologies +were useless. He tossed off a glass of champagne and settled himself +to brazen out the situation until a welcome signal should give him his +release. + +For a considerable time the culprit was compelled to subsist on +disjointed scraps of the adjoining conversations. Among the crumbs he +gathered were these: "Fancy going 'no trumps' on such a hand! Wasn't it +sickening?" + +"Oh--I don't know! He had two aces. It was unlucky he was done in +spades." + +"A lovely piece of Persian lamb. Just enough for the collar." + +"No; a man with a beard never takes on the stage." + +"So they got the grand slam!" + +"I'm sure the Staal Brunnen would suit you." + +"But she is _so dark_--her eyes and hair--you don't think----?" Voice +dropped, man's raised in reply, and in the key of D sharp. + +"Good heavens, no! What an awful suspicion! Not with that complexion." + +Pushing back of chairs, general rising, general exit. + +After coffee in the garden the party strolled over to the Casino in +order to see the grand fireworks. The grounds were illuminated, and +the crowd was immense. The entire scene was delightful, so gay, so +exhilarating and so foreign. People of many nations sat about, or +promenaded in groups, staring at the brilliant display, and listening +to the band. + +Some of the members of the late festivity assembled on the terrace, +where they paced to and fro, or stood to exclaim at some specially +marvellous effect. Miss Chandos was so closely invested by Uhlan +officers and other friends that Captain Haig had no opportunity of +exchanging a word with her. After several frustrated attempts he turned +aside, took a seat apart, and, we may as well admit it, sulked! He +watched with discontented eyes the gay throng of well-dressed people, +the glitter of diamonds, the bright stars overhead, the bright light +around. He saw Verona (as he mentally called her) now holding a little +court on the terrace, again strolling up and down with an Austrian +field-marshal or a Russian grand duke, and he realised how difficult +it would be for him to improve their acquaintance, and what a complete +outsider he was. There were too many notable worshippers, all competing +for a lady's society and favour, and he was but an impecunious officer +who must not venture to claim the privilege of sunning himself in the +beauty's smiles. + +Nevertheless, Captain Haig had some brief visions of Miss Chandos; +for instance, at the Elisabeth Well of a morning, at the opera, or at +church, now and then they exchanged a few sentences. + +At the annual Battle of Flowers--which was attended by all Homburg +and Frankfort--the carriage of Madame de Godez was accorded a coveted +banner, and first prize. The landau was entirely covered with pink +roses, the very wheels had been transformed into colossal wreaths. +Four milk-white horses, caparisoned with roses and silver, were led +by grooms wearing pink and silver livery and white wigs. It was the +chariot of a Fairy Queen, and was received with shouts of admiration +and pelted with a hurricane of flowers. + +Enthroned in the vehicle reclined Madame de Godez, arrayed (despite her +maid) in a gorgeous pink and silver pelisse, with feathered headgear of +the most imposing assumption. ("The blot on the escutcheon," Sir Horace +dubbed the lady.) Beside her was seated the Princess, clad in white, +her hat crowned with roses; on the coach box was perched Dog Darling, +decorated en suite, with an enormous pink bow--glowering at all the +world and shivering with shame! + +The carriage was crammed with flowers of the most costly varieties, +which the two ladies tossed to the crowd with liberal hands. + +As the splendid equipage rolled majestically between dense masses of +admiring spectators it seemed to represent the triumphal car of Beauty +and Mammon. + +Captain Haig, posted in a coign of vantage, pelted the occupants with +the best of his assortment. He had no eyes, or flowers, for others, +not even for the cart laden with sheaves of corn and pretty girls and +drawn by oxen, nor for the gorgeous yellow coach, or yet the charming +Japanese; his flowers were only for Verona. Once he had the good +fortune to catch her eye, and as she passed she smiled and tossed him +a rose. This he kissed with fervour and stowed away as if it were some +holy relic, for Malcolm Haig was really in love. So much in love, that +he actually attended a charity bazaar in the extravagant and foolish +hope of finding _her_ within; but unfortunately Miss Chandos was +elsewhere, playing golf, and his temerity cost him three sovereigns. +His leave was ebbing hourly--his luck was dead out. Sir Horace, too, +was selfishly absorbed in his own affairs and the progress of his cure, +and had never given his unhappy nephew a helping hand since that first +notable morning. At last Fortune smiled! Captain Haig was returning +from a sad and solitary ramble in the woods, when to his surprise, and, +needless to add, joy, he came upon Miss Chandos and Dog Darling. She +was seated on the trunk of a fallen tree with the enviable animal in +her lap. + +"Oh, this is fortunate!" she exclaimed, "I am in rather a quandary, +like the ferryman with the fox and goose and corn. Dog Darling has cut +his foot, and I don't know how I am to get him home. I dare not leave +him; he might stray, or be stolen, and, much as I love him--I cannot +carry him!" + +"No, indeed," agreed the delighted lover. "Pray how do you happen to be +here all alone?" + +"I was driving with Auntie from Nauheim, I got out to walk back the +rest of the way, and give Dog Darling a run. He has cut his foot on a +broken bottle, poor dear; so wicked of people to leave their picnics +loose." + +"I see, his poor paw is badly cut," said Malcolm; "shall I bandage it +up?" + +"I shall be most grateful if you will, but I warn you that he _may_ +bite you!" + +"And then you'll have to bandage me! Eh, is it a bargain?" + +"I will guarantee to hold his mouth quite firmly, and you can please +take my handkerchief." + +"No, no; mine is the best," said the impromptu surgeon, and in five +minutes the business was successfully accomplished. + +"I think he has sense to know that I mean well," said Captain Haig, +"and now I propose to carry him home; it is not more than a mile." + +"But he is so heavy!" objected the young lady. "If you were to go back +and send a carriage to fetch us--how would that do?" + +Naturally this arrangement did not appeal to her companion, and he +replied with deliberate untruth: + +"The patient is a mere feather! You lay him in my arms and I'll do +nurse as if to the manner born." + +Having effected this amicable arrangement without any contretemps, the +pair set off, the young man carrying the dog, who proved to be a dead +weight and exceedingly irritable and sorry for himself. + +"Where did Madame get him?" asked his bearer abruptly. + +"Well, the fact is, he belonged to me originally, and is a native of +England," replied the girl. "I lived with a family from the time I was +eight till I was seventeen, and enjoyed a delightful country life." + +"No lessons--all haymaking, jam and holidays, I presume?" + +"Any amount of lessons and governesses. The Melvilles' daughter and +I shared them. Auntie paid me flying visits, and on one of these +occasions she noticed Toby, a young dog, full of tricks and spirits. +He was very nice to her (as he can be when he likes), and she simply +insisted on carrying him off." + +"Precisely as I am doing." + +"Oh, no; in a dog-box. It changed his whole career and outlook on +life. Instead of living in a barrel, hunting water rats and rabbits, +and having a brother in the house, and cousins in the village, he has +become a society dog, and a cynical, disappointed person." + +"Poor old boy!" exclaimed his nurse, "so he is out of his element like +many of his betters." + +From Dog Darling the conversation gradually became more personal, +Captain Haig walking as slowly as possible, and occasionally coming to +a dead halt, would have gladly carried his burden many miles--for the +sake of the dog's mistress. But everything, however agreeable, must +end, and the delightful _tête-à-tête_ concluded all too soon at the +door of Ritter's Hotel. Madame de Godez professed herself to be much +touched by Captain Haig's attention to her sweet darling, and, as a +suitable reward, the following evening she invited him to coffee on the +Casino terrace, which invitation he grasped at, since he had now come +to his last hours in Homburg. After the coffee had been served Captain +Haig and Miss Chandos instinctively, by a sort of mute mutual consent, +descended into the grounds, and strolled there in the moonlight, +listening to the superb string band. It happened to be playing "Die +Lieben Langen Tag," when Malcolm said: + +"Do you know this is my last day here? I'm off tomorrow morning." + +"Oh, are you?" she exclaimed, "must you really leave so soon? I am +sorry." + +"Not a thousandth part as sorry as _I_ am," he responded, with what +seemed unnecessary emphasis. "I wonder if we shall ever meet again?" + +"I wonder?" she echoed meditatively. "How I should like to see your +gorgeous East! but of course I never shall. Please give my love to +India!" + +"Yes; the instant I sight Colaba light, if you will give me something +in return." + +"What is it?" + +"Your photograph," was the bold reply. + +"Oh, but really, I never give that to any one," she answered rather +stiffly. + +"In Europe, no. But I am going ten thousand miles away. Do grant me +this favour--it will be a talisman to summon happy memories in a +foreign land." + +"But I know you will stick me in a row with forty other girls," she +objected, with a smile. + +"I will not," he rejoined, with prompt vehemence, "never--I swear it." +A pause, and he reiterated his request. "Will you?" he pleaded, sinking +his voice to a half-whisper. + +"I will see," she replied, "and now I really must return to auntie and +carry her off to bed. I am trying to coax her to keep early hours, and +she is as fractious as a little girl of six." + +Malcolm Haig having mentally consigned Madame to the bed of the Red +Sea, reluctantly turned towards the Casino, and as they passed near +some great trees he halted abruptly and said: + +"I think, if you don't mind, I'll say good-bye here." + +"Why?" she asked quickly. Then, as she glanced at him, she noticed in +the moonlight that her companion's face was working with some strong +emotion, and it dawned upon her for the first time that Captain Haig +was in love with her, and struggling to say, with decent fortitude, +farewell for ever. + +Miss Chandos was startled and not a little sorry, although her own +heart was untouched. Auntie need not have been so pointedly careful to +exclude Sir Horace's handsome nephew from all her select little parties. + +She hesitated for a moment, then murmured "Good-bye" as she held out +her hand. + +For a second he held it fast; then, suddenly stooping, pressed his lips +upon it, and the beautiful princess did not resist. Possibly she was +accustomed to such homage! + +The following morning, before Captain Haig departed, a large square +envelope was delivered to him. He opened it with a thumping pulse to +discover (as he hoped) the portrait of his lady love. + +Certainly it was a beautiful face. The lips and eyes seemed almost to +speak. Across one corner was inscribed, in a clear, fine hand, "Verona +Chandos." + +Captain Haig was occasionally impulsive; he was stirred by impulse now, +and seizing a sheet of the hotel paper he sat down immediately and +scrawled:-- + + "DEAR MISS CHANDOS,-- + + "Thank you for your gracious gift, I prize it above everything I + possess. I am, alas! but a humble soldier, and you are the Fairy + Princess; should the princess ever need a champion to do battle for + her, I pray that she may command till death, + + "MALCOLM HAIG." + +Malcolm Haig was already nearing Frankfort, with his cap drawn far +over his eyes, and a curious sensation gripping his heart, when Verona +received his note. She read it over twice--the first time quickly, the +second with a pleased smile--and somewhat to her own surprise, crammed +it away among her unanswered letters. + + + + + CHAPTER V + + +Many months had elapsed since Malcolm Haig bartered his heart in +exchange for a photograph; he was once more resigned to the monotonous +round of regimental duty in an Indian cantonment, had purchased a +promising pony, who ran at small meetings under the mysterious initial +of "V. C."--a "V. C." who was gradually absorbing the interest once +given to her namesake, and, to tell the plain unvarnished truth, the +memory of a certain dazzling princess had become a little dim! + +Madame de Godez and Verona were in England. They had no occasion now +to dread the Dover Custom House, for Dog Darling was defunct. His +death had been a genuine grief to his mistress, who looked as if she +too would soon cross the frontier of an unknown land. The old lady was +changed, a life of uninterrupted self-indulgence had begun to tell at +last. There were deep lines in her face, and pouches under her eyes, +her breath was scanty and her spirits were low. + +She had come to London in order to consult a specialist, and to confer +with her man of business, and for some weeks had been established in +the best suite of a well-known private hotel off Piccadilly. + +It was a foggy night in March, the lamps across the way were barely +discernible, the traffic had almost ceased. In a stately drawing-room, +Madame, hunched up in a low chair, was cowering over the fire. As +she sat staring into the coals with a far-away, vacant expression, +she looked very old, and dark, and sick--despite a splendid satin +tea-gown, and the pearl-powder on her face. Verona, her pride and +boast, was now transformed from a mere beauty on exhibition to an +affectionate and efficient nurse--Madame's unwearied comforter +and companion. She had been reading aloud since dinner time, in a +clear steady voice, detailed descriptions of fashionable doings and +particulars of a great wedding: such news as the soul of her listener +loved, until Madame, who had been inattentive for a long time, suddenly +exclaimed in a fretful tone: + +"There, there, Verona, child, that will do! Turn off the lights, they +hurt my eyes, and come and sit by the fire and talk to me." + +"Yes, auntie," she answered, promptly putting aside the paper and +lowering the lights, "and now"--taking one of the old woman's hands in +hers and stroking it softly--"tell me, what shall we talk about?" + +"I've been thinking of the Prince," was the unexpected answer. "How +I wish you had married him! He was a nice fellow, and if he had no +money--what matter for thatt!" + +"I could not have married him, dear." + +"Why nott?" + +"Because he was so effeminate, so sentimental, and, above all, so dark. +Why he was like a black-a-moor!" + +"Verona, it is awfullee wicked to talk like that!" cried Madame, with +unusual excitement. "What harm is a little black blood to anyone? It is +a great sin to be so particular--some of the Saints are ink-black in +their pictures. Oh, you may yet be punished for such shocking pride!" + +"But, dear darling, it is not pride; it is antipathy. I cannot help +it, it is born in me. There were two West Indian girls at the dancing +class, and I could not endure them for partners. I shuddered when our +hands met, their touch seemed so boneless and damp." + +"I tell you, you may be sorry for this sinful feeling, some day." + +"Yes, indeed, auntie. I'm sorry _now_, but I really can't help myself. +I am afraid you are very tired, dear," she continued, again stroking +the old lady's withered hand, "that lawyer, Mr. Middlemass, absorbs too +much time; he was here for nearly an hour this afternoon. What were you +doing?" + +"I was giving him instructions about my will--he was drawing it up." + +"But I thought you had made it ages ago." + +"Oh, yes, several wills. The fact is, lovey," and here she placed her +hand over Verona's, "I am superstitious. I've always thought it so +unlucky to make my will. Yet I've done it, because Mr. Middlemass has +been troublesome, and 'dicked' me so, for your sake. Then when I feel +ill, I say to myself, oh, it's all because of this horrid old will, +and so I will burn it! I have burned three"--there was a distinct note +of exultation in the confession--"now I am mailing," here she heaved a +deep sigh, "another." + +"I'm sure you are not fit to do law business at present; do wait a +little." + +"No, I can not; that Middlemass has been scolding me to-day, and says I +ought to settle my affairs, for if I--" she hesitated, and went on--"I +were to die, every pice I possess goes to my husband's relations. And +then what would become of you, my dearie?" + +"Do not let us talk of such things, auntie. At present I have you, and +you are much better." + +"I tell him a rich girl has always friends!" mused Madame, as if +talking to herself. "You have numbers of friends, Verona, but most of +them are abroad. So are your admirers. I am sorry now I've stayed out +of England these five years. One is soon forgotten, and loses touch +with people. At this time of year, too, our acquaintances are in the +country, or on the Riviera. When I feel arl-right, I shall take a big +house in town, and give dances, and bridge parties, and entertain--and +_then_ my old set will soon remember me." + +There was a silence, during which the two women sat staring at the +fire. At last the girl spoke, with the abruptness of one who has made +up her mind to broach a strange topic. + +"Auntie! I wish you would tell me something about myself. Do, dear +auntie! I am two-and-twenty years of age, and I know nothing of what +is called, my forbears. If anyone were to say to me, 'Who are you?' I +should be obliged to reply, 'I don't know!'" + +"If you say, 'I am the adopted daughter and heiress of Fernanda de +Godez,' you will find they are perfectly satisfied," rejoined her +companion, in a sharp emphatic key. + +"But _I_ am not.--Oh, do forgive me, dearest, I feel sure that no kith +or kin could have done more for me than you, and I am a truly fortunate +girl; for it is not money only that you have given me, but love. It +does seem so extraordinary, that I have no belongings, and that all I +know of my past is that when I was a tiny child, and a year old, you +adopted me and brought me home from India." + +"That is true," granted her listener. + +"I must have been over a year old, for I can dimly recall the steamer, +and the black faces of the Lascars." + +"Ho, ho! there you go! black faces! You were nearly two when you +landed." + +"They must have died within a short time of one another," resumed +Verona, in a low voice. + +"What do you mean, child? Who are you talking about?" + +"My father and mother." + +"Yes, yes, yes, I have allowed everyone to suppose you were an orphan," +continued Madame, staring straight before her in dreamy fashion, "but I +have never said so." + +"Not an orphan!" repeated the girl, sitting erect, and turning quickly +to her companion. "Oh, darling auntie, do tell me--it will make no +difference to you--is my mother alive?" + +Her voice shook for an imperceptible moment, and her eyes glowed with +expectancy. + +"Now, what nonsense this is!" cried Madame de Godez peevishly. "What +would you give to know?" + +Verona suddenly averted her eager face, and made no answer. + +The ensuing silence was so unusually prolonged that at last the +old lady jerked her head round, and glanced interrogatively at her +companion. To her amazement and dismay she saw two great tears stealing +down the girl's face. + +Verona's tears were more than she could endure. Verona, who rarely +wept, even as a child; Verona, who had scarcely grieved for the dog. + +"Come, come, come, lovey, don't! I cannot bear it. No! since you are so +foolish, then I will tell you." + +The girl turned to her instantly, her eyes were wet, her lips were +parted. + +"Your father and mother are both alive--in India--and well, for all I +know--there now!" + +For a moment her listener remained silent and motionless; she seemed +stunned; twice she endeavoured to articulate, but failed. At last she +said: + +"My father and mother! Oh, thank God! Auntie, isn't it wonderful?" + +"No-ah! there is nothing wonderful at all," retorted Madame de Godez, +"I knew the family. They were hard up, they had debts, and children, +and as I was leaving India a widow, alone, I offered to take you to be +my own daughter, and never to see them again." + +"And they agreed?" exclaimed the girl, and her words were faint and +tremulous. + +"Why, of course. It was a fine bargain for them, and you. Oh, you were +a pretty child! Just like a little angel on a Christmas card. Now, +Verona, I would never have spoken of this, and let you think what you +pleased, only--you have worried it out of me!" + +"Are my people related to you?" she faltered. + +"Never mind." + +"Have I any brothers and sisters?" + +"It does not matter, for you will never see them," replied the old +lady, who was obviously disturbed and displeased. "You will never go to +India, make yourself easy about thatt." + +"Oh, dear auntie," said the girl suddenly, sinking on her knees, and +putting both her arms round her friend's dumpy figure, "you know very +well that it is not like you to talk in this way. You know that you can +make me very happy. You load me with diamonds and pearls, far more than +I want; give me a few precious words--they are of more value to me than +jewels. Do tell me something about my father, and above all"--with a +sudden impulsive movement--"my mother. Do, darling, please." And the +petitioner drew the old woman into a yet closer embrace, and imprinted +warm kisses on her ugly, lipless mouth. + +"Well, then," gasped Madame, a little breathlessly, "you are such +a coax! I suppose I must! Your father is a gentleman, of old, old +family--he looks like a duke. He was in the Army long ago, but he was +hard up, and so he had to leave. He has now a civil post." + +"And my mother?" Verona's lips dwelt lingeringly on the word; there was +a strange expression in her eye. + +"Oh, no, no! She is not much! She is not a friend of mine. No, no, I +do not like her; but she was once a beauty. Now, Verona," suddenly +releasing herself, "that is enough. No, but too much. Be satisfied. I +am your father and mother, and sisters and brothers. They are Indian +people, with Indian notions, and they do not want you. You are not one +of them--and never can be one of them." + +"No," agreed her hearer, half under her breath. "Gains involve +losses"--the saying flashed into her mind with cruel opportuneness, and +Verona realised with a pang that she had gained a life of luxurious +ease, in exchange for her own people and her father's house. + +"Oh, no, no, they do not want you," reiterated Madame, "'the flower +returns not to the branch,' as Baptista Lopez would say: she and I +were at school together. My! what a girl for proverbs!" + +"Do they ever write?" ventured Verona. + +"There, now, you see what I have put in your head!" cried Madame +angrily. "I am sorry I told you one single word; it is all useless, +foolish talk. I am tired. Ring for Pauline, and I will go to my bed." +As she spoke she rose from her chair with Verona's assistance, then +grasped her arm, and tottered painfully out of the room. + + * * * * * + +Madame's adopted daughter had led a wandering life, until she was eight +years old, and was supremely ignorant of what the word "home" implied. +Madame had surely some gipsy blood in her veins (and was not averse to +the idea). She drifted about the Continent from one fashionable hotel +to another, with a retinue of servants, tons of luggage, a parrot, a +poodle, and a child. + +This was all very well for the parrot and the poodle, but for the child +it was another affair. Her education was of a peculiar description, +and undoubtedly resembled a meal, where the sweets are served before +the joints. "La petite Verona" danced delightfully, acted with +extraordinary intelligence, and sang piquant little songs in her shrill +childish voice--such were her accomplishments. She was dainty, and +pretty, and graceful; in short, she was Madame de Godez's doll--and +idol. But, low be it whispered, she could hardly read simple words, +a pen and needle were strangers to her tiny hands; geography and +arithmetic were but hideous names, and yet the child could declaim a +tragedy, play the mandoline, and converse fluently in three languages. + +It seemed a sheer miracle that this petted little creature should +have remained unspoiled, but her sense of truth and honour appeared +to be inborn and innate, and she had none of the greedy, selfish, +elfish ways of solitary and applauded children. In short, her little +heart was in its right place, her feelings were deep and sincere. +She was attached to her _bonne_, her auntie, and the parrot; to one +of the waiters at the "Hotel Bristol," and to Martin, the _concierge_ +at "the Ambassadors" in Rome. But she and Polo, the poodle, had +never really fraternised, being performers, public favourites, and +necessarily--rivals. + +The child was by no means perfect. Her temper was hot, and it must +be frankly admitted that her manner to those she considered her +inferiors was occasionally haughty and disdainful; her pride was stern +and unbending, for, although she had no petty conceit, she took the +personality of Miss Verona Chandos with a gravity that was ludicrous. + +A sudden and complete change in the child's life may be attributed to +one cause, and the name of that cause was, "scarlatina." She caught the +complaint, and had it badly, thereby occasioned a serious commotion, as +well as much inconvenience, in a certain smart hotel, and subsequent +heavy expense to her auntie. A soft-voiced, dove-eyed matron pointed +out to this lady that a girl of Verona's age had still a whole gamut +of diseases to run through--measles, mumps, whooping cough--this would +necessarily lead to continual annoyance, quarantine, and enforced +seclusion. + +"But _what_ am I to do?" demanded Madame in her staccato key. + +"Send her to England without delay. It is fully time she was properly +educated, and mixed with other children." + +"Oh, but she is so clever!" + +"True, in a way, but she cannot read or write. Surely, dear friend, you +do not wish Verona to grow up an ignoramus and a laughing-stock?" + +"No, no, no," ejaculated Madame, "but I could not send her to school. I +hated school myself." + +Lady Wallsend stared; it seemed such a singular and grotesque idea that +Madame de Godez should ever have been at school. + +"And I happen to know a most charming family in England--extremely +kind, refined, and well connected. They are looking for a companion, to +educate with their little girl Madge." + +"Oh, do you think that would answer?" + +"Yes, quite admirably. The Melvilles are my own cousins--not wealthy. +They would, of course, expect handsome terms, and for these, the child +would have every care, the best of teachers, a delightful country home, +and a playmate of her own age." + +Madame, who was still smarting from exorbitant charges, and penetrated +with the dread of measles and chicken-pox, lent a ready ear to Lady +Wallsend's not wholly disinterested suggestion; preliminaries were +arranged, and Verona Chandos, a Frenchified, dressy, self-possessed +little personage, was duly received at Halstead Manor. Here she lived +as one of the family for nine happy years, sharing all the joys and +sorrows, games and lessons, of her friend Madge; and being an orphan, +was from the first adopted into the motherly heart of Mrs. Melville. + +Madame de Godez did not lose sight of her _protégée_. During the +London season she travelled to England, and carried off Verona for a +sensational holiday; but when the girl was seventeen, and gave promise +of remarkable beauty, her adopted mother promptly claimed her, loudly +announcing that "life was no longer possible without her adored child." +Here was the first serious trouble in Verona's life. She felt almost +heartbroken as she and Madge went round, arm in arm, paying farewell +visits in the village, the stable yard--not forgetting the seagull, +and the tortoise in the garden. Their tears flowed fast as they +separated their respective treasures in the old schoolroom, but Madame +de Godez laughed at their sorrows, and believed that she had stifled +every regret when she presented each of the mourners with a fine pearl +necklace. + +In spite of Madame's mock sympathy and real pearls, Verona found it a +painful wrench to bid good-bye to her beloved country home, with all +its happy associations, and to go forth into the blare and glare of the +great world, and the fierce white light which beats upon a beauty, and +an heiress. + + * * * * * + +When Verona had assisted Pauline to put her mistress to bed--a lengthy +and intricate process--when she had put everything in the way of salts, +lozenges, and refreshment, within the patient's reach, lit a night-lamp +and turned off the electric light, she returned to the drawing-room and +sat down before the fire. Here she remained in one thoughtful attitude +for a long time. As she leant her cheek on her hand, the firelight on +the wall made a clear-cut silhouette of her graceful, motionless figure. + +As the girl sat thus, she was staring, not at the coals, but into the +dim past, yearning to recall some face, urging her torpid memory to +send her even one sign. But, strive as she would, all that emerged from +the veil which concealed those far-away days was a little painted toy! +A wooden figure with a yellow turban, and a scarlet body covered with +gold spots. She remembered it perfectly, her anguish when it had fallen +overboard, and how she had wept. It was marvellous that such a paltry +item should remain fixed in a child's brain, and that yet she could not +recall the face of her parents. No, as far as they were concerned, her +memory was a hopeless blank. + +Her heart was full to bursting, her thoughts were moving and strange. +At last she sprang up and began to pace the room, with subdued silken +rustlings and a quick light tread. + +Once she stood still and, stretching her arms to the irresponsive +London fog, whispered in tones of the most exquisite tenderness, "Oh, +mother, mother, mother!" + + + + + CHAPTER VI + + +The morning after this unusual conversation Verona awoke with the +sensation that something extraordinary had happened; awoke to a vague +sense of disaster--a loss of something out of her life, a loss of +birthright and inheritance; and in spite of an imperious voice which +clamoured in her ear of auntie's affection and indulgence, she was +aware of a feeling of dissatisfaction and disquiet. Instead of rising +as usual when her maid brought in her bath and tea, she lay for a +long, long time, staring vacantly at the wallpaper and entertaining +a succession of unfamiliar thoughts. She was endeavouring to become +acquainted with the personal meaning of the strange words father, +mother, brother, sister, and home. + + * * * * * + +There was a sudden improvement in the weather, a capricious change +which flooded the city with sunshine; bright blue skies stared down +upon the leafless parks and hinted at approaching Spring. + +Madame de Godez, who was painfully sensitive to climate and constantly +referred to herself as "a true child of the sun," now declared that she +felt much better--almost well; and instead of cowering over the coals, +with her head enveloped in a shawl, her feet encased in fur slippers, +she roused up, made a toilet, ordered a carriage, and drove about to +milliners, house agents and restaurants. "The child of the sun" was +no longer a shivering, ailing old woman, but the bustling and jaunty +Madame de Godez of former days. The transformation was astounding; she +angrily refused to follow the doctor's orders, flouted the idea of +a _régime_, and her appetite for the pleasures of the table and the +pleasures of society was, if anything, keener than ever. + +The convalescent, in spite of eloquent expostulations, returned to her +favourite menu of spiced meats, rich _entrées_, champagne, and caviare, +and boastfully assured her adopted daughter that "she was the best +judge of her own health. London doctors were quacks and alarmists, and +all she required was a complete change; a couple of weeks at Brighton +would transform her into another woman." Madame was self-willed and +strong. For twenty-three years no one had ventured to oppose her, and +for some little time her own prescription--to eat and drink and make +merry--seemed unexpectedly efficacious. + +One afternoon, after enjoying a hearty lunch on prawn curry (with hot +condiments), roast hare, plum cake, and bottled stout, she sat down to +write to a house agent, and when in the act of signing her name, was +seized with an apoplectic fit, and before a doctor could be summoned, +became insensible, never recovered consciousness, and died that night. +Thus Madame de Godez had experienced a change, and one that she little +anticipated--the great change of all. + +There was the usual amount of startled confusion succeeding a sudden +death. Verona was shocked and grief-stricken; all Madame's little +peculiarities were forgotten, her good qualities remembered, as she +gazed through her tears on the still, dark face, contrasting so sharply +with the sheets and pillows, and clothed in all the dignity of death. + +Mr. Middlemass, a wooden-faced family lawyer, was soon on the spot, +and undertook all correspondence and funeral arrangements. Verona's +good friend, Mrs. Melville, hurried up to town at once, in order to be +with her, and she proved a comfort and tower of strength. Soon after +her arrival Mrs. Melville had a long conversation with Mr. Middlemass, +who said to her with alarming gravity: "I am sorry to inform you that +Madame de Godez has not signed her will." + +"Oh!" exclaimed the lady, rather blankly. "Has she not?" + +"No. I have urged her repeatedly to settle her affairs, in common +justice to Miss Chandos. She intended her to succeed to almost all she +possessed. I have drawn up her instructions. This is the fourth will I +have executed; the former three she destroyed. I had it prepared and +ready for her signature, but she postponed the appointment, day after +day, and now"--throwing out his hands--"she is gone----" + +"Then it will make a great difference to Miss Chandos?" + +"The greatest in the world. If the will had been duly signed--just +two words written--Miss Chandos would come in for fifteen thousand a +year--she would be an heiress. Now she is, I may say, penniless. It's +one of the worst cases of procrastination I've ever known." + +"And what becomes of all the money?" asked Mrs. Melville. + +"It goes to the next-of-kin--the Gowdys. They can claim everything, +under Mr. Gowdy's will, which states that, if his wife died intestate, +his fortune was to go to his brother and his children, the heirs at +law." + +"And who are they?" she inquired, after a pause. + +"Scotch farmer folk. I understand they have deeply resented the fact +that the whole of their uncle's estate was left to his widow. James +Gowdy was an indigo planter in the big days, and spent forty years in +India. Madame disliked the name of Gowdy and transformed it into De +Godez; it pleased her, and did no one any harm. Of course her business +papers are signed in her real name." + +"This is terrible news for my poor young friend," exclaimed Mrs. +Melville. "Then she has no claim, and was no relation to her mother by +adoption?" + +"No more than I was." + +"And is left penniless?" + +"Yes, as far as Madame's money is concerned. Of course, the Gowdys may +do something. I shall bring the matter strongly to their notice, and +urge them to be liberal. I have wired, and written, and requested them +to come down immediately, and I have postponed the funeral until their +arrival." + +"Well, I must go and break all this bad news to my poor child," said +Mrs. Melville. "You know she is almost like one of my own; it is +dreadful to think of her being left alone in the world." + +"Oh, there you are misinformed. She is not an orphan, as has been +generally supposed. Her father and mother are alive out in India. +Madame adopted her, and cut her off from her family; she allowed +no correspondence, as she was exceedingly jealous of the girl's +affections. Now, no doubt, Miss Chandos will return to her family." + +"With all the ideas, refinements, tastes and habits of a girl who has +been brought up in England on an income of thousands. How cruel!" + +"Yes, but from what I know of Miss Chandos, her tastes appear to be +simple, and her ideas are not extravagant. I think she will adapt +herself to circumstances. She seems a sensible girl." + +"All you say is perfectly true, Mr. Middlemass. She lived with us for +nine years. Her own people are not rich, I gather?" + +"No, very far from it." + +"And is she to have nothing? Nothing whatever?" + +"Her personal effects, clothes and jewellery--that is all that she can +claim, by the letter of the law." + +"How inhuman the law is! I really think Madame has behaved in the most +shameful, selfish way. What a cruel old woman!" + +"Only a superstitious old woman," amended Mr. Middlemass, "who believed +that a will was a reminder to the Angel of Death. She would be more +heart-broken than anyone, at the present state of affairs, and she +could not bear the name of the Gowdys. You may be satisfied that I +will do my utmost to secure some provision for Miss Chandos." And with +this friendly assurance Mr. Middlemass took his grey suède gloves, his +glossy hat, and his departure. + + + + + CHAPTER VII + + +Mistress Jean Gowdy was the tenant of a sheep farm on a moor, north of +Perth, where by rigorous economy and unwearied industry she and her two +sons and daughter contrived to make the rent, to live frugally, and to +put by a bit. + +Jean was a hale, active woman of sixty, with a fine handsome face, but +no figure to speak of--a hard-headed, hard-working, God-fearing Scotch +woman. + +She had not married over young, but was five-and-thirty years of age, a +sensible and settled person, when she bestowed herself and her savings +on Andy Gowdy, a small farmer body, with a little money, and a keen +desire to better his position. + +The couple had taken a long lease of Ardnashiel sheep farm, because +being twenty miles from a railway it was cheap; there was plenty of +water, fair grazing, and a comfortable stone house on the moor. Here +for several years they struggled on bravely, through terrible winters +and wet springs, and were at last beginning "to see their way." +Unhappily, one dark morning, when the river was coming down in spate, +Andy, in endeavouring to ford it, with his horse and cart, was drowned. +The fierce mountain torrent turned over the cart, amidst the boulder +stones, as if it were a child's toy, and despite of the desperate +struggles of the fine young horse to effect a landing, he and his +master were swept away to their death. + +The body of Andy was recovered three miles down the glen. There was +loud lamentation for him among the neighbouring farmers and shepherds, +and a great concourse from afar attended the funeral, when he was +buried in an almost forgotten churchyard among the hills. The loss of +a fine young horse, the marks of whose frantic hoofs were imprinted on +the banks for years, was almost equally deplored. He had lately cost +thirty pounds in Perth, and the tragedy was never related without due +mention of his fate. + +Andy Gowdy was drowned, and his widow Jean reigned in his stead. The +poor woman found it no easy matter to carry on the farm, and to give +her children a bit of schooling; what with minding the bairns, the +housework, and the sheep, she was often on the point of breaking down +under her burthen, and it is a fact that only for the exertions of +three notable collie dogs they might almost have starved. But Jean +Gowdy, a woman of true Highland tenacity and indomitable courage, +struggled on bravely. Her children throve, thanks to the keen mountain +air and the good porridge and milk. The boys, Andrew and Jock, were now +able-bodied men, and Maggie, their sister, was a fine sonsie lassie of +two-and-twenty. She had received some sort of an education, for their +mother had sent them by turns to an aunt in Stirling, and they were all +great readers--what else was there to do in the long winter nights? +even when their mother drove them to bed at eight o'clock and reminded +them that their grandmother, who talked only Gaelic, had always retired +at dark. But these were different days, they declared, and no Scotch +folk would now consent to pass three-quarters of their time in bed--in +order to save lamp oil! + +Oh, those winter nights! when the wind swept down through the glen, +and they could hear the starving deer stamping outside in the snow and +dragging at the wood stack. On these occasions, Mrs. Gowdy knitted +stockings, and did curious sums in mental arithmetic; the lads read the +paper and such books as they had borrowed from the minister. Jock's +shock-haired red head was bent over Adam Smith's "Wealth of Nations." +He was clever and ambitious, and had long resolved that _he_ was not +going to waste his life in herding sheep, milking cows, and dragging +up and down the weary road to the town for coal and groceries. No! +Jock had heard the history of his uncle Jamie, and he was educating +himself with painful, but continuous, effort, in order that he might +also go out into the world and do something--something that would +bring him in money and applause. To begin with, he was going to the +University of Glasgow, and was reading for a bursary. His family +tacitly acquiesced; they respected his ambition and agreed that Jock +was to be somebody--some day. He was, therefore, allowed the largest +share of lamplight and first claim on the ink bottle. His sister had +also her dreams, as she sat with a collie at her feet. Maggie Gowdy +hated the hard rough life. It was aye fine for her grandmother, or even +her mother; but times were changed; there was no fun or stir beyond a +rare jaunt to Stirling or Glasgow. All the other girls in the glen were +a thousand times better off than she was. It was easy for her mother +to say "bide a wee"; she might bide at Ardnashiel till she was old and +toothless. Young Campbell of Lussie used to come up the valley, by way +of fishing, and spier for her, and have a crack, but her mother found +it out, and made an awful row, and threatened to lock her in her room. +The kirk was full six miles away, and a desperate rough walk, and there +was no one there foreby some old shepherds, their wives, and a few +farming folk. Aye, when she read beautiful stories in the paper penny +books she bought with her knitting profits, she felt wild to be away in +the big world, to see people--and be seen. She had overheard Mistress +Murray tell her mother that it was an awful pity such a bonnie lass +should be shut away up the glen. Maggie was a tall, broad-shouldered +young woman, with a pair of fine bold eyes, a fresh complexion and +ropes of coarse dark hair, and felt perfectly confident that, if she +only had a bit of money, she would get a match. + +Mrs. Gowdy too had her own schemes and wishes. She was surely and +secretly putting by money, and intended Maggie to marry a minister, and +if Jock went out in the world, and Andy took a wife, she had made up +her mind to end her days in Glasgow, and in peace; leaving the young +ones to carry on the farm. Ardnashiel was paying well; they had only +lost five sheep that winter; they were getting good prices; she had +no shepherds to pay, and no wages; it was little going out and most +coming in. Of course, it was main dull for the bairns, puir bodies, but +they were young--and could wait. + +The moor surrounding the grim blue-grey home of the Gowdys was +celebrated for an historical past, and a certain wild beauty peculiarly +its own; the romantic winding glen, guarded by steep mountains, was +watered by a capricious and picturesque river, which received many +tributaries. A rough cart track connected the glen with a high road, +which was seven miles distant, and in winter time the farmers and +cotters of Ardnashiel were frequently cut off from the outer world +for weeks. No wonder Maggie Gowdy dreaded these dark, dour days, the +leaden skies, the vast outlook on snow--snow, nothing but snow. Her +heart sank within her when, late in October, she watched the tenants of +a neighbouring shooting lodge pass down the rutty tracks, with their +servants, and luggage, and dogs--a long and imposing procession. As the +last cart turned the corner and was lost to sight, Maggie had known +what it was to rest her head between her knees and sob aloud. + +Oh, winter was cruel to all the world, and especially to her; but +her mother was a woman of extraordinary force of character, and kept +everything going--the lads at the sheep-feeding and their books, and +herself at sewing and knitting. Summer and Autumn made some amends; the +streams ran merrily, the curlew called, the sheep bleated, the swallows +and the shooters returned, and the white mountains were clothed in +purple. When the day's work was over, the cows milked, the fowls +fed, Mrs. Gowdy would repair to her parlour in order to add up her +accounts. This was her period of mental refreshment, and if the lambs +had sold well, and fleeces were heavy, her heart was light. Jean Gowdy +lived meagrely below, in four rooms, a kitchen and three bedrooms. +She and Maggie washed at the pump, and shared one bed and a sixpenny +looking-glass. + +But, like most self-respecting Scots folk, they had a sacred place +apart--a parlour, where they received company and entertained the +minister. This parlour had been handsomely plenished when Jean had +come to the glen a newly-wedded wife. She was proud of it then--she +was proud of it still. There was a green and red carpet, good mahogany +chairs, and a shiny sofa in horsehair, a variety of framed photographs, +two dyed sheepskin rugs, held down unnecessarily in the corners by +large foreign shells, some oleographs of Rome and Naples, and a large +picture of Queen Victoria; it was here, in a locked bureau, that Mrs. +Gowdy kept her business documents, her bank book, and her will. Sitting +there in her every-day gown and blue apron, with her bare arms and +toil-worn hands, she looked more like a servant who was poking through +her mistress's papers than the proprietor of the apartment. These were +her moments of delicious relaxation. Her daughter's diversion took the +form of a stroll as far as the next farm gate in the faint hope of +meeting someone, or else she climbed up to the old churchyard, which +commanded a magnificent prospect, and sat on a tombstone, building +castles in the air, and railing at her fate. Her thoughts frequently +turned to her father's brother Jamie, who, fifty years before, had gone +to the East Indies, and got on from one thing to another, had owned +hundreds of black men, and, it was even reported, elephants, and had +died as rich as a duke, leaving thousands and thousands to his widow, +but not one blessed bawbee to his own folk. Certainly, it was true that +her father and Uncle Jamie had had high words and a bitter quarrel +before he sailed, folks said, over a five-shilling piece, but they +might be wrong. Anyhow, her mother allowed they had no good will to one +another; but that was an old story, and she and her brothers were his +near kin. He had married a foreign woman, had no family, and had made +his home in the Indies, and never once came back to Scotland. His widow +had, so they heard, adopted a baby, and brought her up like a princess; +and there was she, his own flesh and blood, living on porridge, and +working and washing like any common woman. What a scandal! + +When Maggie thought of this other girl, set out in silks and jewels, +and getting a grand education, and "chances," the blood fairly boiled +in her veins. She was far more embittered and furious against this +intruder than against her Uncle Jamie, or even his foreign wife. Here +was she, Maggie Gowdy, imprisoned and held fast within these glens by +poverty and a strong-willed mother, and she, though well enough looking +and educated and young, would never have a chance to be anything but +a drudge. She dared not throw off her mother's thrall; she had once +talked of service, but it was to deaf ears, and here she was, nigh +three-and-twenty and, as Jock had cruelly reminded her, "getting past +her market." Oh, she felt mad-like--to think of the wasted years! + +When Maggie's mind dwelt on these matters and on the remorseless +monotony of her life, she felt distracted. She recalled how young Joe +Macdonald used to come up the moor, by way of looking for a stray +sheep, and how he had appeared at their chapel two Sundays running, and +met her once in Perth; and then, all of a sudden, he cooled off, and +took up with Allie McCrone, a yellow-haired girl, with a fortune of +three hundred pounds! Her mother had said, "Never you mind, my lass, +you shall have a fortune, too, as well as Allie. I was up for forty +when I got married, but I brought your father four hundred pounds. It +went to stock this place, and where we had one sheep then we have a +score the noo. You have plenty of time yet--you _wait_." + + * * * * * + +It was late on an April evening in the glen, the snow had melted, and +swelled the river far above its banks, the waterfalls were pouring down +the hillsides, the small burns were noisy and boisterous, and Andy +Gowdy, who had been to the town with the cart for coal and a bag of +flour, was not sorry when he came to the last gate of all. As soon as +he had "loused" the pony, he carried into the kitchen a sack of flour, +a small parcel of tea and sugar, and a letter. This he brought to his +mother, who was frying something over the fire. + +"There's a letter for you," he drawled. + +"Leave it there--it can bide. It's about the sheep wash and tar." + +"I'm no so sure of that, it looks out of the ordinary, and the postmark +is London." + +"Land sakes--it's for the keeper above." + +"Nay, it's for Mrs. Andy Gowdy, Ardnashiel." + +"Then give it here. No, my hands is black--you read it, Andy." + +Andy at once opened the letter and began: + + "LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS." + +"Aye, didn't I tell ye it was aboot the farm!" interrupted his mother. + +"No--no--listen here--to what it says," rejoined Andy, with heightened +colour. + + "MADAM,--I have to acquaint you with the sudden death of Mrs. James + Gowdy, which took place yesterday at the 'Beaufort Hotel' in Dover + Street, Piccadilly. I am her solicitor, and aware that her will, + though drawn up, is unsigned. Therefore, I believe, the fortune of + her late husband devolves upon his next-of-kin, who I assume to + be your children. I am making all arrangements for the funeral, + which I propose should take place at Kensal Green on April 30. I + fixed this date presuming that you and members of your family will + be present. Kindly write instructions at once, or telegraph. Miss + Chandos, Mrs. James Gowdy's adopted daughter, is at present at the + Hotel. I beg to add that my firm, having conducted the business of + Mrs. Gowdy for twenty years, are conversant with all its details, + and we shall be happy to place our experience at your service. + + "I remain, Madam, + + "Yours faithfully, + "GEORGE MIDDLEMASS. + + "To Mrs. Andrew Gowdy." + +When Andy had finished reading the foregoing, he drew a long loud +breath and looked around him. There was a dead silence. Mrs. Gowdy +straightened her back, and still holding a sausage on a fork, stood +staring hard at her son. Then she turned about, and snatching the pan +off the fire, exclaimed: + +"Well! to think of that! Losh me! It's ten thousand a year coming among +ye. It's hard to credit!" + +Maggie, who had been washing rubbers in the scullery, stood in the +doorway with cold wet arms and crimson cheeks and eyes like two flames. + +"What shall we do?" she asked, hysterically. "What shall we do?" + +"First of all, thank God," rejoined her pious mother, "and then have a +bit of supper before we begin to talk and make plans." + +"I could not taste a mite!" cried Maggie, in a strange hoarse voice, +"let us talk now, if we ever talked. We are not dumb beasts. Let the +supper bide." + +Mrs. Gowdy gazed at her daughter fixedly. The mere name of money had +transformed the girl into another creature; a woman with an imperious +countenance and a loud tongue. + +"Well, well," she agreed, and she sat down and stared out of the window +reflectively, whilst her children stood around in a dazed silence, +momentarily speechless. + +"We mun go to London in the morn," announced Mrs. Gowdy at last. "I see +that plain. This is Thursday, and the letter has lain two days. Jock, +the pony canna stir to-morrow; you mun run over and borrow Duncan's bay +horse, and bring it back with you. We will start at daybreak, there's +no call to be keeping the good money waiting, and we will just take a +few bits of things and my papers. I have a ten-pound note above in my +desk; Andy and Maggie will come with me, and you, Jock, mun mind the +place." + +"No, no, I'm not for agreeing to that," rejoined Jock, sullenly. "Why +should I stay behind more than Andy or Mag. Have I no share in the +fortune? I'm going!" + +Here were a son and daughter defying her authority for the first time +in their lives. And being a prudent and far-seeing woman, Mrs. Gowdy +instantly realised that she was no longer dealing with children and +dependents, subject to her thrall, but with the heirs of Jamie Gowdy's +fortune, who, should she stand in their way, would cut themselves loose +from her control. So much for money. In less than ten minutes it had +occasioned a domestic revolution. + +"Well, then, have yer way," she agreed. "I'm thinking of who's to mind +the cows and the chickens--forby the sheep. You might cry in to Alec +Macnab on yer way for the horse, and ask him and his son to give a look +to the place, and he'll need to be here at streak of day. I'll make it +worth their while. I'll give him a good fee." + +"All right," agreed Jock, "I'll bring Alec back with me." + +"Aye, and don't let on but what we are going to Glasgow on a bit of +family business. No use giving out the news before we are well up in it +ourselves." + +"Aye, I'll mind that." + +"Oh, won't the Flemings be wild," cried Maggie, "when they know it. Ten +thousand a year--and maybe more! Ten thousand a year!" As she spoke, +she hammered on the table with her wet red hands. + +"Now go off like a good lad," urged Mrs. Gowdy to her son, "and bring +over Alec and the bay horse. Mind ye, the train leaves the junction at +ten o'clock the morn." + +There was little sleep for anyone in Ardnashiel that night, and sunrise +saw Jean Gowdy and her bairns clad in their Sunday clothes, driving +through the dew-soaked glen, _en route_ to establish their claim to a +fortune. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + + +The Gowdy family was jogging slowly down the valley, which looked +brilliant in the early morning. The impetuous river raced alongside +its companion, a steady, rutty road, twisting and swirling, foaming +and flashing, rippling under rowan-beeches and tossing between great +boulders its white locks on high. Maggie and the river had one impulse +in common: they were both eager to escape from the glen; one drawn +by the world--the other by the sea. Halfway to the highway the party +encountered a boy with a telegram in his hand, which he held up as he +announced: + +"It's for Mistress Gowdy." + +A horrible idea instantly occurred to the four travellers--it might +contain something to put an end to their prospects! Telegrams in their +experience invariably brought tidings of ruin, accidents or death. + +"Give it here," cried Mrs. Gowdy in a hoarse key. + +"There'll be six shillings to pay!" + +"Yer daft!" screamed the thrifty matron, "yer telling a lee." + +"It's no lee--it's the post-office, and I came awa' at six this +morning. If yer going yonder ye can ask. But ye mun pay me the noo." + +"Then giv it to me," said Mrs. Gowdy, and with tremulous fingers she +tore open the envelope and read aloud: + + "Hope you received letter respecting Mrs. James Gowdy's death and + are coming to London immediately. Telegraph reply.--MIDDLEMASS." + +"Oh, well"--with a sigh of relief--"so it's all right. But sax +shillings--to think of it!" and to tell the truth, for the remainder of +the drive (such is the force of habit), those poor six shillings had +a more prominent position in Jean Gowdy's thoughts than the splendid +prospect of thousands of pounds. + +The very next forenoon a four-wheeled cab drove up to the office of +Middlemass and Son, and from it descended the Gowdy party--who, after a +long and protracted altercation with the cabman, dismissed him routed +and grumbling, and then proceeded to enter the office, and present +themselves to their man of business. + +The widow in her decent black, her sons, with clever Scotch faces and +the hands of hard-working men--clad in homespun and embarrassment, +the daughter gay and complacent, with sparkling eyes and red cheeks, +arrayed in a sailor hat and a gown of hunting tartan. Yes, they had +all come with one consent to enter on their inheritance. Their papers +were duly produced, and found to be in order--marriage and baptismal +certificates had been registered in proper form, but the family were +not prepared for the law's delays, and certain irritating formalities +which must ensue before they could seize upon the Gowdy fortune. Mr. +Middlemass soon realised that in Mrs. Andy Gowdy he had to deal with a +sharp and capable woman of business. Her mind was clear; her questions +were to the point, and she soon laid bare the fact that Miss Chandos +was, to all purposes, now living luxuriously in a grand hotel, at their +expense! + +"She will, of course, leave after the funeral to-morrow," explained the +attorney in a tone of apology, "I believe the suite was taken by the +week." + +For the Gowdys themselves, rooms were engaged at a temperance hotel--a +sum of money was advanced for present expenses and mourning, and that +night, for the first time in their lives, they dined under the glare of +electric light, and were waited upon by brisk Germans. + +The funeral of Madame de Godez was a pitiful affair for a woman who +had such an immense circle of notable friends. There were only three +mourning coaches, three private carriages, and about a dozen cheap +wreaths. + +The heirs-at-law occupied the first coach (and had never before +driven behind a pair of horses). Verona and Mrs. Melville occupied the +second vehicle, the doctor and man of business the third; the private +carriages were empty! + +At the cemetery the Gowdys for the first time beheld Miss Chandos. She +was tall, and wore a long, black veil, and really appeared to be in +grief! + +They stood at opposite sides of the open grave--the penniless adopted +daughter, with her air of refinement and delicate breeding, and the +rough-looking farmer folk who were now so wealthy. The same afternoon +Mrs. Gowdy and her family made a formal call upon the girl they had so +unexpectedly supplanted, and were shown into a luxurious sitting-room, +for which, whilst they waited, Maggie remarked, "they were paying good +money." + +In a few minutes Miss Chandos entered, unveiled. Her personality +was so striking that Mrs. Gowdy so far forgot herself as to stand +up and drop a half-curtsey, but Maggie never moved, merely sat and +stared impassively. What was it, she wondered, that made this girl +so different to herself? Her low voice, her long white throat, the +delicacy of her hands, the natural dignity of her movements! Miss +Chandos had something that she could never possess, and that never +could be taken from her! Maggie realised the fact, with an increasing +degree of stolid hatred. + +"It is very kind of you to come and see me, Mrs. Gowdy," said the girl +gently. + +"Oh, well, we thought we would just call for you, as we are idle folk +the noo--and see what like ye wer! It will be a sore change for ye, I'm +thinking," she added. + +"Yes, it was very sudden." + +"And she made no will--nor left you a penny piece." + +"No; but she meant to do so." + +"There's justice in the Lord's sight!" declared this daughter of the +Covenanters with a lifted hand, "and He cut her off before she could +will the whole of my children's heritage to a stranger!" + +This was not a gracious speech. Her listener coloured vividly, but made +no reply. + +"I'm real sorry for you, but you have had a good day and a fine +education, and I suppose ye have gran' acquaintance?" + +"Yes, I have some friends." + +"And ye have plans, maybe?" + +"Yes; I shall remain with Mrs. Melville for a time, and then join my +own family in India." + +"Oh, so you are an Indian!" exclaimed Mrs. Gowdy. "Well, to think of +that, now, and you so fair! Mrs. James, I've always heard, was awfu' +swarthy." + +"My parents are English. I was brought home when I was quite small." + +"Aye, aye; so ye were," assented her visitor. "I mind it all. Mr. +Middlemass has been talking to me, and he wants us to make you an +allowance. But you have your own folk, and I see no call to that!" +Verona was about to speak. "Whist, now," interrupted her visitor, "of +course your clothes and jewels and presents are your own." Then she +paused and added: "Mrs. James Gowdy had gran' gowns and laces and +diamonds, and her belongings will be coming to _me_." Verona assented +with a bow. "I've agreed to pay your passage out, and give you three +hundred pounds." + +Verona could not immediately trust her voice. She would have rejoiced +to decline this liberal charity, but was keenly aware that it would be +her sole means of joining her parents. + +Should she refuse the dole? "No," urged common-sense, "accept the +crumb." And again she bowed in acquiescence. + +Maggie, who had never once opened her lips, sat glowering at this +English girl with a gaze of hard enmity, endeavouring to impress on her +memory her manner of doing her hair, of moving, speaking and looking. +Yes, she might for all the world be some great lady, and yet she was +nothing but a beggar, on whom her mother had just bestowed a fortune. + +"And now I think we must be going," said Mrs. Gowdy as she rose +stiffly, shook out her gown, and offered a large, black-gloved member, +the fingers of which were at least an inch too long. + +Jean Gowdy was a kind-hearted, motherly soul, and as she held Verona's +hand she squeezed it and said: + +"Good-bye, miss; I know it's an awful come-down for you, and an uprise +for _us_. You have a lucky face, and I wish you well." + +Maggie merely bestowed a quick nod of condescension, the two men a +couple of admiring stares as they shuffled out of the room in the wake +of their women-folk. + +Exit the Gowdys! Their accession to wealth, their sudden emergence from +obscurity to social prominence, the success of Jock and the marriage of +Maggie would fill a volume, and this history is exclusively concerned +with the affairs and fortunes of another family. + + + + + CHAPTER IX + + +Her clothes and personal possessions--such as music, books (and [last, +but not least] jewels)--were all that the deposed heiress carried +away, when she left London with Mrs. Melville. The entire wardrobe of +the late Madame de Godez was confiscated by her sister-in-law, who +subsequently made a brave display in various gorgeous garments; whilst +Maggie, in a red "creation," by Worth, was a sight for men, and gods! +Oh, the purchaser of these superb confections, little, little dreamt +who was to flaunt in her plumes, and to stand in her shoes! + +Miss Chandos experienced the first effects of her change of +circumstances when she travelled down to Halstead second class, looked +after the luggage and secured seats, whilst her friend took the tickets +and paid the cabman. + +Her reception at the Manor was warm; from the old coachman's "Welcome +back, miss," to the parrot's screech, "Verona, kiss me!" She once more +occupied her own bedroom, in which nothing had been changed since +she quitted it, five years previously, in order to follow her adopted +mother into fashionable life. Here were the same old samplers, the +paintings of Venice and Vesuvius, the dimity curtains in the windows, +the hideous china dogs on the mantelpiece, the well-known writing table +and cosy armchair. There was the same familiar bright outlook on the +garden--and the unfamiliar quiet of the country. It was like returning +into harbour after an extensive cruise, in order to refit for yet +another voyage. She was about to refit and make a fresh departure; to +begin life with her own people; to visit long-desired India! + +The years with Madame de Godez had flashed by in a succession of +splendid scenes, and kaleidoscopic views of strange countries, and +strange faces. Now it all seemed singularly unreal. And when Verona +sat in the bow window of the drawing-room, and watched the brown +pony grazing on the lawn--saw the spaniel chasing his mortal enemy, +the kitchen cat, out of the garden, whilst the jackdaw flapped +applause--it seemed as if she had only been absent a few weeks. Those +glittering scenes at Monte Carlo, and Aix, and Paris, were all so many +dreams--merely dreams! Her old friends and neighbours, the folk in +the village, were delighted to welcome her back among them, the only +change she felt was the absence of Madge--who six months previously had +married an officer and departed to Malta. Verona was thankful that in +her day of prosperity she had had it in her power to delight Madge with +diamonds. Auntie had been generous, and had bestowed on the bride a set +of superb sables. + +Now she could no longer indulge in what had been one of her chief +pleasures--buying gifts. There was her own jewel case; she unlocked +it and exhibited the contents to Mrs. Melville. It contained various +proofs of madame's wealth, and eye for effect. A long chain of pearls, +a variety of rings and bangles, brooches, a watch set in brilliants, +and several ornaments, including a magnificent diamond bow for the hair +or corsage. + +"Well, no, if you take my advice, you will not sell them," counselled +Mrs. Melville. "They are worth a great deal of money, and if you must +part with them, I believe you could get a better price in India; some +native nobleman might purchase the pearls. Of course, dear, if you like +to dispose of them here, and invest the money, do; but I expect you +will only get half of what they are really worth. You say the pearls +cost nine hundred?" + +"Yes, and auntie was always begging me to have diamonds, and rubies, +and emeralds, but I always said 'No.' Even as it was I had far too much +jewellery. This diamond and emerald pendant is exquisite--is it not?" +and she held it up to her throat. + +"It is; and I wish, since this represents your entire fortune, you had +accepted madame's offer; for after all you have not such a wonderful +supply!" + +"More than ample--to wear, or to sell--and I will take your advice and +keep them. I--I should like"--here she lowered her voice and coloured a +little--"my mother to have the diamonds." + +And with this generous wish she closed the jewel case. + +Verona had written to her mother immediately after the death of Madame +de Godez. Mr. Middlemass informed her of her address (and he had also +despatched a few lines on his own behalf). + +Her letter said: + + "MY DEAR MOTHER, + + "I cannot tell you with what intense happiness I write these + three words; for until a month ago I believed I was an orphan. My + kind adopted mother is dead. She died most suddenly of apoplexy, + and, meaning nothing but love and kindness to me, left her will + unsigned, and all she possessed has passed to her husband's + next-of-kin--a family of Scotch farmers. These people dislike me + because they consider that for many years I have enjoyed their + uncle's money. They have taken possession of everything, but intend + to defray my passage out to India, and give me three hundred + pounds. I have no ties in this country, and am longing to go to + my own people. Amidst much trouble and worry, and a great change + of circumstances, I have one indescribable joy, the prospect of + soon seeing my father, and _you_. Madame de Godez had, until a + month ago, kept me entirely in the dark respecting my birth and + parentage. I was her child, and no more information would she + divulge; but not long ago I contrived to break down her reserve, + and she informed me with great reluctance, that you and my father + were alive, and that I had brothers and sisters. More than this + she would not disclose, and never spoke of the subject but once. I + gather that my father is not wealthy, but you will find that I can + adapt myself to circumstances, and I hope to be a useful addition + to the family. I have had an excellent education; I have a strong + constitution and can work hard. I have always wondered why I felt + so drawn towards the East, but _now_ I understand at last. I am + staying with Mrs. Melville at Halstead Manor, where I once lived + for nine years, it was here I was educated and brought up. I would + start off at once, so anxious am I to see you, but Mrs. Melville + advises me to wait for a reply to this letter, and also until + the monsoon has broken. She suggests my leaving England in July. + Dearest mother, I am counting the very days till we meet. You will + spare a little love for me, will you not? I am always picturing you + to myself, and I have made up my mind that you are like someone I + know, and who I have always _wished_ were my mother. + + "Ever your most loving and happy daughter, + "VERONA CHANDOS." + +It would take (so she had calculated) about five weeks to receive an +answer to this letter, and during these five weeks Verona renewed her +friendship with people and animals: became a delightful deputy daughter +to Mr. and Mrs. Melville, busied herself in making preparations for +her passage, and buying suitable gifts for her unknown relations. It +was near the end of June, when a letter, with an Indian stamp, in an +unknown, somewhat shaky writing, lay beside Verona's plate at breakfast +time. She opened it tremulously. It was written on cheap thin paper, +and at the top was stamped: + + "MANORA SUGAR FACTORY, + "NEAR RAJAHPORE. + + "DEAR VERONA, + + "I am writing in reply to your letter, to assure you that we shall + be glad to see you, although we have not much to offer, except + a welcome. I fear, after what you have been accustomed to, that + you will find our mode of life an uncomfortable change, but you + are young and full of hope and courage, and everything will be a + novelty. + + "I am sorry Madame de Godez is dead, and that she had made no + provision for you. At the same time, we shall all be pleased to + welcome you into what is your real home, and will look for your + name in the passenger list of the steamer leaving London the second + week in August. Write again, and tell us your plans. + + "I am, your affectionate father. + "PAUL CHANDOS. + + "P.S.--Your mother sends her love." + +This epistle was a little disappointing to Verona, the echo to her +appeal seemed so faint, but after all it was a letter from her +_father_. They were all ready to welcome her, and if not so eager +to see her, as she was to see them, she remembered that they were +accustomed to family intercourse--they were many living together--she +alone out in the darkness, looked towards their hearth as the beacon +of her happiness. Verona reflected for a short time, and then decided +to show her father's letter to Mrs. Melville, who for her part found +it both kind and sensible, and said so, greatly to Verona's relief, +and that same day she wrote and engaged her passage by a steamer which +sailed in three weeks' time. + +As she went singing about the garden, culling roses, and accompanied by +the dogs, Mr. Melville--a good grave man, with a spade-shaped beard, +and a taste for archæology--said to his wife-- + +"Lucy, I wish we could keep that child with us." + +"So do I. She has always been one of ourselves, almost ever since she +came here, a little decked-out, Frenchified doll, speaking broken +English. But her heart is set upon her own people." + +"Yes, and she knows nothing about them, nor, for that matter, do _we_." + +"We know that her father is a man of good family--one of the Chandos of +Charne." + +"And the black sheep for all you can tell," interrupted Mr. Melville. + +"Come, don't make the worst of it, Joe!" + +"Yes, it's bad enough as it is. This girl, brought up with a taste for +everything money can buy, and left without any provision. I call it a +most shameful, abominable business. Verona will never understand shifts +and scraping. She will have to put up with a vile climate, and to adapt +herself to a new life. Now Madge is away, and Robert is at sea, I think +she might remain on as our adopted daughter. She does the flowers for +you, and mends my gloves, and cuts my papers, and plays picquet, and +sends back my books to the London library--we shall not be able to +spare her." + +"My dear Joe, I'm afraid we must, sorely as we want her, and much as I +believe she loves us. Her heart, as I've already assured you, is with +her own people. If we kept her with us, she would be continually pining +to fly away, like a robin in a cage." + +"I sincerely hope her expectations may be realised, but I think it is a +risky experiment, attaching oneself to a hitherto unknown family." + +"She will be an acquisition anywhere, so lively and so sweet tempered, +and entirely unconscious of herself. Her great social success never +made the smallest difference to us; she wrote to me as regularly as +Madge. I believe she had no end of offers of marriage--including one +from a prince!" + +"Oh, well, I cannot exactly credit _that_. And anyway, I can assure +you, she will never have a chance of becoming a princess in India. +Joking apart, I'm really anxious about the child. Do you have a good +talk to her, Lucy, and try once more, if she will not accept the bird +in the hand, and remain with us, for the birds in the bush may be of +doubtful plumage." + +"I will see what I can do," assented Mrs. Melville, "but in return for +your half proverb, I will give you a whole one." + +"What may it be?" + +"Far off hills are green." + +Joselyn Melville made no attempt to argue the question further, but +merely resumed the _Guardian_ with a grunt. + +In three weeks' time Mr. and Mrs. Melville accompanied their charge +to Tilbury, and when they saw the _Arabia_ leave her moorings, waved +good-bye to Verona with as much emotion as if she had been their own +child. + + + + + CHAPTER X + + +At four o'clock in the afternoon the chief event of the day, the Bombay +mail, was due at Rajahpore. The railway station was crammed, not merely +with passengers, but idlers and loafers, who attended this train in +order to see the people who were going North, and to gather jokes, +scraps of gossip, and news. Soldiers were present in considerable +force, as well as the local police, and numbers of Eurasians and +natives, all assembled with the harmless object of enjoying a slight +break in the monotony of their existence. + +It was on a platform seething with strange faces, strange costumes and +a strange nationality that Verona Chandos alighted and looked about +her, with a vague, bewildered stare. She glanced hurriedly around in +quest of her father, mother and sisters--her own people. Surely they +were somewhere among this crowd! Her heart beat in rapid jerks as +she noticed a tall lady in grey and a lad, who were peering into the +carriages, evidently in search of friends. Yes--and had discovered +them! This soldierly man in riding kit, with erect figure and alert +eye--no! A young officer in khaki had come forward and carried him +off, and Verona realised with a painful sensation that no one appeared +to be awaiting _her_. The crowd hustled, and pushed, and clamoured +by--sweetmeat sellers, fruit hawkers shouted their wares, porters +rattled their trucks and excited parties of newly-arrived natives +chattered together like a flock of parrots. + +At last the scene began to clear and her attention was attracted by one +solitary figure--a tall, elderly man, standing aloof in the background. +In spite of a shabby sun hat and a suit of shrivelled white drill he +had the unmistakable appearance of a gentleman. His features were +finely cut, he wore a grizzled moustache, but the face was marked by +that indefinable expression presented by life's failures, and his air +was timid, even apologetic, as if he felt that he was an intruder in +the throng. + +Verona had surprised him looking at her with a quick, furtive glance, +instantly withdrawn. Oh no, the shabby gentleman, with the saddest eyes +she had ever encountered, could not be anything to her, and strangling +the thought at its birth, she turned away to claim her luggage. + +Boxes and belongings, each marked "V. C.," had all been duly collected, +and for this service she was thanking the guard, when, in reply to +his nod of indication, she turned about and found the man from the +background at her elbow. + +"Pardon me," he faltered, lifting his hat, and his voice though well +bred was tremulous, "is your name--Chandos?" + +"Yes," she answered quickly, but the colour had left her lips, +"and--and--you are my father!" + +His face grew livid as he murmured "Verona," and for a second he seemed +so overcome with agitation that he was unable to speak. Then he took +her hand--she felt his own tremble--and brushing her cheek with his +wiry moustache, murmured: + +"My child, you are welcome." + +As she looked up into his face she read amazement, incredulity, awe. + +"Oh! am I so very different to what you expected?" she asked with a +little breathless laugh. + +"God knows you are!" was the startling reply. Then, pulling himself +together, he added: + +"I've a man here who will take charge of all your baggage," beckoning +to a Peon with a large brass badge on his sash. + +"The victoria only holds two--so I came alone. Let me carry your wrap +and bag." + +"Is it far to Manora?" she inquired. + +"About four miles." + +"Because I am so thirsty. May I have a glass of water?" + +"Water--no!" he rejoined with unexpected decision; "But come along +and have a cup of tea. I ought to have thought of it before; you +must be choked with dust. I've got out of the way of--of----" The +remainder of the sentence was inaudible, as he opened the door into a +lofty, white-washed room, where several men were lounging at a long +refreshment bar. + +Verona received an impression of quantities of bananas and buns; swarms +of flies and staring faces. As she stood sipping some hot weak tea, +from a very thick cup, a dapper little man, with a shiny face and +prominent blue eyes, approached and accosted her father in an off-hand +manner. + +"Hullo, Chandos! I've never seen you here before. What has brought you +out of your shell?" he asked with an air of lofty condescension. + +Mr. Chandos looked momentarily embarrassed, and then replied, rather +formally: + +"How do you do, Major Gale. I came to meet my daughter." + +"_Your_ daughter!" and in the echo there was a note of incredulity, +bordering on derision, but the little officer accepted the half +introduction and bowed profoundly as he said: + +"Charmed to make her acquaintance." + +Verona resented his air of free and easy patronage, and met the +stranger's full, bold gaze, with a pair of cold, unchanging eyes. + +There was a chilling pause, during which the little officer quickly +summed up the new "Spin"; her grand manner, dainty linen costume, +expensive travelling case and ruffled wrap. + +As the result of this inspection he turned abruptly to Mr. Chandos and +exclaimed: + +"I say! I'd no idea you'd been married before!" + +Whatever reply was forthcoming it proved unintelligible, for Mr. +Chandos was searching and fumbling in his pockets, and there was a hint +of colour in his worn face as he turned to the waiter and said: + +"I've no money with me. I'll settle with you next time I'm in--you know +who I am!" + +"How much is it? I'll make it all right," volunteered Major Gale. + +"One rupee, Saar," said the turbanned kritmetgar. + +Here Verona interposed, authoritatively: + +"Thank you very much; I will pay for my tea," and promptly produced the +necessary coin. + +"No one carries money in India," explained Major Gale; "we all go on +tick or borrow, as you'll soon find out. Just arrived?" + +"Yes," assented the lady. The "yes" was like a hailstone. + +"From England?" + +"Yes." Another hailstone. + +"I'm afraid you'll find Manora a bit slow! Eh? We are having our sports +on the twentieth. I hope you all come in. Eh----?" + +Verona set down her cup and glanced interrogatively at her father. She +was anxious to depart. + +"Oh, no use asking _him_," resumed the other, with a jocular air. "He +buries himself alive. Lots of people don't know of his existence; awful +mistake to cut the Service and take to sugar--eh, Chandos?" + +"It suits me all right," he answered in a quick, troubled voice. Then +as an afterthought: + +"I will give your invitation to my wife, thank you. Now, Verona, if you +are ready?" + +"Quite ready," and with a slight inclination of her head she took leave +of her new acquaintance, and walked out of the refreshment room. + +Mr. Chandos piloted his daughter into a wide space at the back of the +station, where a victoria was in waiting, with a showy bay arab in the +shafts and a man with a gigantic red turban and blue and red coat on +the box. His feet were bare, which struck Verona as peculiar. + +"We can start at once," said her father, handing her in as he spoke; +"Hassan will see to the baggage," and he indicated a long, clumsy +conveyance, drawn by two water buffaloes, into which primitive concern +her boxes were already being hoisted. + +In another moment they were whirled away from the station along a flat, +white road--indeed, the whole country seemed as flat as a billiard +table. They trotted through a narrow bazaar, full of customers, +domestic animals and gaudy little shops; occasionally they were obliged +to pull up until a recumbent cow or goat saw fit to rise and suffer +them to pass. From the bazaar the road led to a steep bridge, and as +they crossed it Mr. Chandos pointed out various objects. + +"There is the city," he said, "this side of the river. Two hundred +thousand inhabitants. Where you see the spire and trees, is the +cantonment. We live farther out in this direction." + +"And have you no neighbours?" + +"Oh, any amount. We are a community of our own. The factory employs +some hundreds of natives, and about thirty English and Eurasians." + +"Eurasian!" she echoed; "Oh, what a pretty name! What _is_ a Eurasian?" + +A spasm of pain seemed to contract her father's face, but he appeared +not to have heard the question. It was evidently his habit to +occasionally ignore or misunderstand what was said to him. + +"Had you a good passage, my dear?" he asked. + +"Only pretty good. Hot in the Red Sea and rough off Aden." + +Here several passing coolies salaamed to her father, and he +acknowledged their greeting with a jerk of his hand. + +"What a charming salutation!" she exclaimed; "I like it so much better +than our nodding and scraping." + +"I'm afraid it's the only thing you _will_ like," he remarked with a +sigh. "Our life will be irksome, I'm afraid. We are real Anglo-Indians, +and have made our home out here." + +"I shall like my home, you may be sure," she declared, "my home and my +people. How long is it since you were in England, father?" + +"Twenty-eight years." + +"Oh! almost a lifetime. How is my mother?" + +"As usual." + +"And my sisters--what are their names?" + +"Blanche, Dominga, and Pussy--her real name is Bellamina. Blanche is +married to a young man in the telegraph department. She has a little +boy." + +"My nephew! How delightful." + +Mr. Chandos gave a curious little laugh, and resumed: + +"Pussy is nearly twenty-four; then you come; then Dominga--she is +twenty, and Nicky is seventeen." + +"Oh, I do hope they will all like me," said Verona, as she turned a +beautiful enthusiastic face on the shattered man at her side. + +He glanced at this refined English girl, with her reposeful manners and +air of culture and elegance. It was like gazing through an open window +on some former state of existence, when all the world seemed young +and gay and he had life before him. Well, he was now a grey derelict, +expiating his follies in exile. He found it impossible to realize that +the lovely eager girl at his side was his very own daughter; the little +Verona that twenty years ago they had, much against his will, consigned +to Fernanda Gowdy. + +She had come back again--as what? To curse him--or to bless? + +"Your sisters are not the least like you," he remarked in a harsh, +abrupt voice; "they are uneducated girls--simple and emotional. They +have only seen life from a sugar factory, and their ideas are cramped +and circumscribed; you must make allowances for them. Whatever they +are--I believe they mean well." + +"Of course they do, and you need not ask me to make allowances for my +own sisters. I am only too happy and thankful to think that I shall be +with them always--and my mother." + +As this conversation took place, the carriage was passing along a +winding road, fenced with dusty cactus and an occasional row of acacia +trees, but generally running between high standing crops of dense sugar +cane. The old bay Arab stepped out well, and before long a square, +high tower came into view; then gradually the outline of factory and +bungalows, all thrown into sharp relief by a deep crimson sky. Suddenly +the victoria rolled into a wide shady avenue, lined with thick trees +and bushes, which ultimately widened into a little park, bordered with +a number of picturesque bungalows, each standing apart. At the far end +was a fine imposing abode, with a great verandah and sloping lawns. + +"That is Mr. Lepell's house," explained Mr. Chandos. "He is manager of +the factory." + +"Why, father, I thought you were manager?" + +"I!"--in a tone of ironical scorn. "No; I'm a mere bottle-washer, a +subordinate, and will never be anything else." + +They now dashed by a group of people who were playing tennis with +screams and shoutings; and paused abruptly in their game to stare; and +drove on to a bungalow half-concealed from the road by thick bushes; +the porch and verandah were entirely screened with lattice work. + +As they approached Verona's heart beat fast, and she was aware +of several white figures--which had hitherto been stationed like +outposts--flying within to give notice of her arrival. + +But when the victoria came to a standstill under the porch there was no +one to be seen, and the girl was conscious of her father's long indrawn +breath, as he handed her out and said: + +"I think they are all a little afraid--a little shy, of their English +sister. Come into the house and I will fetch them." + +The drawing-room opened directly into the verandah, and on first +entering it seemed dark; but Verona soon groped her way to a sofa and +sat down to wait, whilst her father departed in order to summon the +family. + + + + + CHAPTER XI + + +As Verona waited alone in this dim, unfamiliar room, her heart throbbed +quickly; more than once she caught her breath with an involuntary gasp, +for she realized that she was on the threshold of the most momentous +event of her life; within the next few seconds she would be face to +face with her mother. + +Picture the situation! For twenty years this girl had lived with +strangers, moving among friendly family circles, but belonging to +none; secretly envious of home and blood ties. Although she bestowed +her affections generously, an enormous reserve fund was stored up in +her heart, ready to be lavished on someone near and dear, and someone +near and dear was coming now. As she gazed with eyes grown deep with +longing towards the curtained doors, her feelings were indescribable; +in spite of the close, airless atmosphere, she was icy cold, and her +clammy hands trembled in her lap. + +Half unconsciously she contemplated her surroundings, the imposing +grand piano, blackwood carved furniture, upholstered in red damask, +marble-topped tables, Indian rugs, and three high doors, corresponding +with the French windows. The room resembled a salon in some foreign +hotel; no flowers, photographs or books were to be seen, much less a +cat or dog, a rumpled newspaper, or scrap of work; but there was a +curious unfamiliar odour, a mysterious combination of musk and coffee. +To judge by their bungalow and the smart victoria, her parents were +in easy circumstances--the standard of wealth in the East presumably +differed from that in the West; poverty in England meant luxury in +Manora. It was true that her father's clothes were shabby, but she was +aware that some elderly men despised their personal appearance; and had +not her father administered a shock? A sharp unexpected disappointment? +Angrily she drove away the fact, but like an irritating insect, it +returned with determined persistence. + +He was undoubtedly a gentleman, his features were finely cut, his voice +and manner unimpeachable, but there was a hidden tragedy in those weary +eyes and timid deprecating air. What was the experience which had +crushed all the light out of his face? and why did he look as if he +abode day and night with the giant Despair? Was his haggard expression +merely the result of ill-health, or, in consequence, of the doom of +exile? Then her thoughts sprang back to that central figure--her +mother. Oh, when would she come? What was detaining her? + +Presently Verona became aware of a stealthy hustling and scuffling +outside one of the curtained doors; her relations were evidently in her +immediate vicinity. There was a sound of half-suppressed squeaks, of +giggling and tittering, then a voice, in a well-known accent, cried: + +"Oh, goody me! Pussy, Pussy, come along!" + +Instantly the reply in breathless jerks, like a double knock, "No! no! +no! you go!--you go!" + +And now the drapery over another entrance vibrated--was briskly whisked +aside, and someone came into the room. Verona was so agitated she +could hardly rise, as she saw approaching a little elderly woman, with +a frizzy fringe, eager black eyes, and a girlish figure. She noticed +that she wore a buff-coloured cotton dress with dark spots and a wide +scarlet necktie; and even by the diminishing light the girl discerned +that the stranger was dark; oh, much darker than Prince Tossati--or +even Madame de Godez! + +"Well, Verona, child," she began in a high staccato key as she advanced +and took her hand, "so you have come! My goodness, how tall you are! +You must stoop for me to kiss you." + +Verona paused for a moment, irresolute, wondering who this person might +be? but bent her head as requested, in order to receive a salute. + +"My! you are a great big girl," continued the little woman; "but tall +girls are the fashion--so the papers say!" + +As she noticed that Verona's eyes were still gazing beyond her, and +fixed intently on the door, she cried: + +"Whatt are you doing, child? Why are you staring so?" + +"I am expecting my mother; is she coming soon?" she faltered, in a low +tone. + +"Soon," repeated the little dark woman, with a scream of hysterical +laughter, "why, she is here, child! Don't you know that _I_ am your +mother? Whatt a funny girl! My! whatt a joke!" + +"_You_," stammered Verona, in a faint voice; the room was whirling +round, as she hastily put out her hand to support herself by the table. + +"Why, of course, and who else?" demanded Mrs. Chandos, in a sharp +challenging key. "You are astonished because I am so small; I am +astonished because you are so big, so we are quits. No?" + +Verona could not speak; she felt as if a rock had fallen upon her heart +and was seized by a choking sensation that threatened to strangle her. +It was the crucial moment of her life. A thunderbolt had shattered her +personality; her very identity seemed dissolved, who was she? What was +she? Vainly she struggled to realize that she was the daughter of this +half-caste woman! Yes, she, with all her delicate fastidiousness, her +uncontrollable antipathy to black blood--her invincible pride of race. + +Poor old Madame was indeed prophetic, when she had talked of +"punishment." What a sentence! It was worse than death. + +Fortunately the light was dim, the sudden Indian twilight had invaded +the room, for Verona's face was fixed and frozen in an ecstasy of +horror. + +"You don't seem to have much to say for yourself," began Mrs. Chandos, +in a querulous, complaining tone, but before she had completed the +sentence her husband entered, closely followed by two young women, and +a slouching youth in a gaudy red blazer. + +"Ah, you and your mother have met," he observed in an unnatural muffled +voice. "So you have seen her?" + +"Who could see anyone in this light?" cried his wife. "Here is the +lamp," as a bearded servant entered, carrying a large argand, which he +placed on the table. + +"Now I'm going to have a good look at Verona," announced Mrs. Chandos, +as she seized the girl's wrist in a fierce claw-like clutch--her tiny +hand resembled the paw of a marmoset--and led her nearer to the light. +The scrutiny proved to be critical, it was more--it was cruel; the +hard, eager eyes that stared into hers, were keen as sword points, and +the unhappy girl realized that no love lay within that searching gaze. + +Releasing her daughter with a little contemptuous push, Mrs. Chandos +turned to her husband, and said, "She's like no one I've ever seen; I +suppose _you_ think Verona takes after your family," and she laughed, +as if this idea embodied an excellent joke. + +"Yes, I believe she does," admitted Mr. Chandos, as he glanced at the +white, set face with a look of anxious deprecation. + +"Well, now we must introduce Verona to her sisters and brother," +pursued his wife; "this is Dominga," as she led forward a tall, slim +girl of twenty, with a bleached complexion and masses of splendid red +hair; her eyes were long and narrow, her nose delicately cut, her lips +were full; as she pressed them on Verona's cheek they were dry and +burning like two coals. + +"And here is Pussy; her real name is Bellamina." Pussy, who was shy, +approached wriggling and giggling. She was dark and plump, but had a +sweet good-tempered face, and her eyes were magnificent. She looked up +timidly at her pale English sister, and in another second Pussy had +flung her arms around her neck and given her her first really cordial +embrace. + +"Oh, my goodness, Verona!" she gasped, "you are a beautee, just like a +picture. I shall love you, I know." + +"And here is Nicky," continued Mrs. Chandos, dragging up a reluctant +youth, with his long lank wrists bare of cuff, his wiry hair on end, +his sunken eyes twinkling and mischievous. Nicky grinned from ear to +ear, but made no attempt to salute his relative. + +"So now you have seen them all except Blanche, and she will come +to-morrow," said Mrs. Chandos. "Oh, my! how funny it is, to have one +great big, new daughter, just like a stranger, is it not, Verona?" + +"Yes," she acquiesced, mechanically, scarcely aware that she had +spoken. Was this scene really happening, or was it not some hideous +dream? + +"If old Fernanda had not been so weecked we should never have seen +you at all. No?" Mrs. Chandos concluded most of her sentences with a +staccato-like note of negation. + +"Which would have been our misfortune," supplemented Mr. Chandos, with +unexpected force. "We are all glad to claim Verona." + +As he spoke his eyes rested on this mute newcomer with a look of +melancholy pride. Here was the only one among his children who was +a true Chandos in bearing and breeding; the little fledgling who, +twenty years previously, had, despite his remonstrances, been thrust +out of the nest. What a difference her companionship would have made +to him!--an ever present reminder of his home and youth. Would she be +a comfort to him now? or would she hate and despise him (he cringed +mentally at the thought) for having given her such a mother? + +"And now you have seen us all, what do you think of us?" demanded Mrs. +Chandos. + +Verona was still too stunned to speak; her sole reply was a sickly +smile. + +"You know all about Blanche." + +"And she doesn't count now she's married," protested Dominga; "she made +such a bad match; he is only in the telegraph at one hundred and twenty +rupees a month. Oh, she was a mad girl!" + +"Come, I wonder what you think of us," reiterated her mother, who +seemed determined to extract some reply to her question. "My! how white +you look! You are tired; better have some tea, it is arl ready." + +"No, thank you," faltered Verona, "I had some at the station." + +"Whatt," wheeling sharply on her husband, "thatt was just waste, and +must have cost one rupee; but you always have these grand lord ways +when you are alone, and you forget your big family and small pay. No?" + +Verona listened, mentally benumbed; her eyes seemed too large for her +face; she looked white and worn, and years older than the girl who so +eagerly alighted at Rajahpore an hour previously; but of all the gazing +group, the wretched girl's father alone comprehended her sensations; +his heart ached for her cruel disillusion. He had intended to drop a +word, a little, little hint on their way home--but cowardice had laid +her finger on his lips! + +"I am sure your sister is tired," he said, glancing hurriedly at Pussy +as he spoke; he dared not meet Verona's eyes, tragic with misery and +pain. "Take her away, like a good girl, and show her her room." Oh, +thrice, thrice blessed escape! Pussy, the ever impulsive, instantly +flung her arm round Verona's waist, while Dominga held aside the +purdah, and the three sisters passed forth. + +"Of course, it is all strange to you at first," began Dominga, leading +the way with a swaggering gait and the heavy trail of some sickly +perfume, "but you will soon seem like one of the family, you will see, +and just as if you had lived here arl-ways." + +What a prospect! + + + + + CHAPTER XII + + +The apartment into which Verona was formally conducted proved large and +airy--somewhat of the barn-like type. + +"And you're to have it to yourself!" announced Dominga, with an +impressive gesture. "Father made an awful fuss, and had it newly +matted, and white-washed, and see! it opens on the back verandah." As +she spoke she unfastened a glass door and admitted a splendid Eastern +moon, which illuminated the whole country and displayed a wide river +within a few yards of the bungalow. The room was furnished in simple +Indian style; a small cot, large wardrobe and bare dressing-table, +on which stood a bowl of exquisite roses. Dominga indicated with +increased complacency a rickety little Davenport. "Father had it put +in; he said English ladies write letters in their bedrooms." + +"It was very thoughtful of him," murmured Verona, and oh, how devoutly +she wished that these two girls would go away and leave her to herself. +But no! having been cut off from her society for so many years, her +sisters were anxious--not to say determined--to enjoy it now. They +fidgetted round the dressing-table, talking incessantly and together, +devouring her all the time with their eyes. "My! what wonderful hair +you have!" cried Pussy, when Verona removed her hat, "and every bit as +much as Dominga. Just look, Dom." + +Dominga nodded acquiescence as she stroked it with a patronising touch, +and declared: + +"Oh, yes--it _is_ theek." Then she glanced into the mirror, which +was large, and portrayed two faces--nay, three--for Pussy now leant +forward, and added herself to the group. + +Verona, in the middle, was the tallest of the trio; her two Eurasian +sisters beamed triumphantly on her reflection and their own. + +"Oh no, no, no; we are not one bit a--like!" announced Pussy with a +giggle, "who would suppose we were relations?" + +"But she has a great look of _me_," proclaimed Dominga; "her hair grows +in the same way, her nose is the same shape. We must certainly dress +alike! although I am so fair and you," glancing at Verona, "are so very +dark. What do you say?" + +Verona nodded assent; she could not have uttered a word were it to save +her life. + +Her sister's remark enforced a terrible and tragic truth--she _was_ +very dark. On the other hand, Dominga was more of a Chandos than a +Lopez, and her appearance was not altogether out of keeping with a +long line of patrician ancestors. Her head was small and well set on, +and her air was distinctly imperious. Besides these advantages she +had magnificent hair, and a thin delicate profile. A tinge of colour +in her cheeks and lips would have transformed Dominga into a beauty; +unfortunately her skin was as white and dead as any sunbleached bone. + +As she stood gazing into the glass the mirror reflected three faces, +and of the trio, her own, in Dominga's opinion, was infinitely the +fairest. It was possibly the most uncommon: being instinct with a +peculiar fiery vitality. A striking--but scarcely what is called "a +good face"--the jaw was a little square, the lips were a little cruel, +the brilliant grey-green eyes were a little hard, a countenance that +could look animated, alluring, impassioned, or implacable, reckless +and grim. Like many red-haired women Dominga generally wore green--it +was her favourite, and she believed, most flattering colour. On the +present occasion her white cambric gown was enlivened by a vivid shade +of emerald in belt and tie, and she surveyed her reflection with +affectionate complacency as she remarked: + +"Still, I daresay the same colours will suit us--we are both so pale! I +am longing to see your dresses. Now I wonder if your boxes have come? +I'll just go and ask if there's any sign of that bandy?" and with +obliging alacrity the fair Miss Chandos quitted the room. + +"Dominga is mother's favourite," announced Pussy. "Mother is awfullee +proud of her hair and her dead-white skin and her figure. She is sure +to be fond of you too; you are _so_ pretty. But when she first heard +you were coming--my! but she was mad! She said she would not have you, +and she would not write. You see," and Pussy's soft dark eyes became +apologetic, "we are so many girls, and Blanche was, oh, such a trouble! +I'm afraid"--stopping short--"you have a headache. You look so seedy." + +"Yes," assented Verona, "I have a dreadful headache." + +"It is the horrid train; you will be better after dinner, I know. I +will go and hurry it." + +What a relief, if only for a moment, to get that ceaseless chatter +out of her ears! To have a little breathing space in which to realize +her position! Verona was conscious of a sick buzzing in her brain as +she sat down, closed her eyes tightly, and endeavoured to collect her +thoughts, and lay hold of her self-possession. Truly, she had found her +own people; she was one of them now--always and for ever! No wonder +she had felt drawn to the East, since its blood ran in her veins! Her +outlook on life must be entirely re-focussed; her former aims and +illusions lay shattered around her. The unhappy girl sat there, as it +were, among the very ruins of her hopes. But solitude and meditation +were luxuries far too valuable to be enjoyed for any length of time. +A loud thumping on the door aroused Verona from a sort of stupor, and +a voice called: "Rona, Rona, dinner! Come a--long!" Outside in the +passage Pussy was waiting in ambush, and when her sister appeared, +literally fell upon her, and led her triumphantly into the dining-room. + +Mrs. Chandos was already seated at table, soup ladle in hand. She +had made no change in her dress, but her husband--who hurried in +with a muttered apology--wore a white open coat, white shirt and +red silk cummerbund, the lingering instinct of the English officer +and gentleman. A yellow shaded lamp in the middle of the table was +supported by two dishes, one of custard apples and the other of butter +cakes. The meal itself was solid and plentiful, and consisted of river +fish, baked kid, curry, and cocoanut pudding. Most of the menu was +absolutely new to Verona, but although she had not tasted food for +hours she was unable to eat; her throat felt constricted and her head +burned. Mrs. Chandos viewed such a poor appetite as a direct personal +grievance, and--despite her daughter's almost tearful protestations, +hinted at "airs" and "pride." The other young people ate heartily, not +to say gluttonously, and devoured the hot curry and butter cakes with +a relish that was amazing. Beyond a little wrangling among themselves +(Verona caught such expressions as "You get out!" "You don't talk to +me like thatt!"), they contributed nothing to the general conversation. +The head of the house wore the rigid look of a mask and scarcely +opened his lips; he was far more taciturn than during the drive from +the station, but his wife made ample compensation for all deficiencies +by continually scolding the servants and plying Verona with sharp +questions--questions respecting money, accomplishments, acquaintances! +questions resembling a series of darts shot by a sure hand. She could +scarcely trust herself to speak of the Gowdys; when she touched on the +subject her voice became shrill and hysterical. Mrs. Chandos appeared +to be bitterly disappointed that her daughter had no acquaintances in +the regiment at Rajahpore--or, indeed, as far as she knew--in India, +and she had made no "nice friends" on board ship. + +"But whatt is the use of the P. & O., but for making useful friends?" +argued Mrs. Chandos; "you might as well have come out in a cheap line. +The Finlays, of the railway, came out in the _Peninsula_ with people +who asked Tilly up to Simla. Of course, they did not hear that old +Finlay was once a platelayer, but Lizzie Finlay is a clever girl; +oh, she is a sharp one! No? Now, boy, whatt are you about?"--turning +fiercely on a servant who had upset some gravy--"whatt a stupid pig you +are! Yes! you did see! Whatt do you go telling lies for? Look at the +cloth! When first we were married"--addressing Verona--"Mr. Chandos was +so particular he would always have two clean tablecloths a day, and now +we have two a week; it is all habit! He has got used to things, and to +being poor and a nobody." + +"But father may have a great fortune some day," proclaimed Dominga, in +a loud, exultant key, and as she spoke she planted both elbows firmly +on the table. + +"You don't know what you are talking about!" muttered Mr. Chandos into +his moustache; "I have never said so." + +"Oh, but he may! A beautiful place in England; Mr. Chandos always goes +on like that; we don't mind him," declared his wife with a toss of her +head. + +"And then you will see where _we_ come in!" resumed Dominga; "you will +see what carriages and clothes we will have. Oh, there will be no more +of this dirty sugar work then!" + +"Ah, but 'Delhi is still a long way off,'" quoted Pussy, with a sly +laugh. + +"Oh, you choop! do," cried her sister; "you shut up; you are as bad as +Nani with your native proverbs. We must take Rona into Rajahpore. Goody +me, how the people will stare! They don't know of our new sister." + +"I say, I wonder what they will call _her_?" growled Nicky, speaking +with his mouth full of custard apple, and staring reflectively at the +recent arrival. "Dom," indicating his sister with a spoon, "is called +'Red Chandos'; Pussy is 'Black Chandos,' father is 'Old Chandos,' I am +'Inky Chandos,' and mother----" + +"Now you be quiett!" shrieked his mother, "telling such stories! For +shame of you!" + +"Well, I'd like to know what they call mother?" demanded Dominga, with +the face of a fury. + +"I'll tell you thatt when we're by ourselves," he answered with a +wink. Nicky had a way of investing his insolence with a surprisingly +matter-of-fact air. + +"Verona, you will make quite a stir, I think," interposed Pussy; +"you look so ladylike, and hold your head so high; you are far more +genteel than Mrs. Captain Tully or Mrs. Major Barrwell, who won't know +_us_: none of the officers' wives ever call here, although they go to +Lepell's, and yet father was an army man, and in the cavalry, too." + +"See, now I have an idea," announced Mrs. Chandos suddenly, as if +struck with an inspiration; "since last comers call first, why should +not Verona make a round of the cantonment? It is quite etiquette, and I +can wait outside in the victoria, and then we shall have all the nice +people coming out here instead of railway and contractors, and such +like trash." + +"The army people will never come out here," declared Dominga, "no, not +even for Rona; they are a nasty, sneering, low, stuck-up lot, and I +hate them." + +"Only the women," corrected Nicky, who had finished his meal, and now +felt at leisure to converse. "You don't hate the officers. Oh, ho! Dom, +you like them! You are awfully keen to go into tennis and badminton and +bands and church. Dom,"--addressing himself especially to Verona--"has +had no end of cases! She is a tremendous flirt; she even tried her hand +on Salwey, but he didn't seem to see it--did he, Dom?" + +"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." There must have been some +tiny grain of truth in Nicky's rude chaff, for the face Dominga turned +on him was fiendish in its expression. + +"Will you choop? Will you be quiett?" she screamed, half-rising from +her chair, her voice choked with rage. + +"Now, do not tease your sister, for I will not have it," remonstrated +Mrs. Chandos. "Verona does not know that no one minds one single word +of what Nicky says. Oh, he is a shocking liar!" + +During the above altercation Mrs. Chandos had been studying her pale +English-bred daughter, and had arrived at the conclusion that she was +either, like the officers' wives, "stuck-up," or else a dumb, inanimate +fool. + +"I see you have no tongue," she remarked, "and so"--with a withering +glance at her husband--"you are like him. Oh, you will be just to his +taste--a _real_ Chandos!" + +"I am a little tired to-night," replied the unhappy girl, in a faint, +apologetic key, and tears were very near her eyes. + +"Oh, it is not so very tiring, sitting in the train," retorted Mrs. +Chandos, and her expression was not agreeable as she pushed back her +chair with a jerk, and rose from the table. + +Dinner had now concluded; of the butter cakes or custard apples not a +vestige remained. Her father had retired to smoke on the verandah; her +sisters were just about to seize upon Verona, and drag her away, when +her mother interposed, saying: + +"No! no! no! do let a--lone! Verona is coming with me. She has yet to +see her grandmother." + + + + + CHAPTER XIII + + +Was there a lower depth than she had touched? Her grandmother! Verona +heard the word with dismay. Had she not yet reached the bottom of +the abyss? Once upon a time she could claim no relations, but now +their number was seemingly legion. With this thought in her mind, she +followed with a beating heart and instinctive reluctance her mother, +who, beckoning with the quick, supple motion peculiar to her class, +led the way across a passage and verandah and down some steps at the +rear of the house. Here, facing them, was a large square building +or bungalow, its high roof thrown into sharp relief by the white +moonlight. Mrs. Chandos paused for a moment and explained: + +"Our house was once the manager's; that was before the Mutiny year, but +it was not grand enough for the Lepells, so we got their leavings, and +it suits us, being large. This," pointing to the building, "was the +Dufta in old days. Of course, you don't know Hindustani? 'Dufta' means +office. Your grandmother prefers it to the house." + +As she concluded she had pushed open a door, and Verona found herself +in a low bedroom, lit by a flaring wall-lamp and reeking with heat and +oil. Two women were engrossed in a game of cards--(oh, such greasy +black cards!)--a little grey-haired ayah, who squatted upon the floor, +and a fat old person, who was seated in a battered cane-chair; She had +a large, brown, good-humoured face, from which her reddish hair was +tightly drawn back and fastened in a knob. Her features were small +and well formed, but disfigured by several dark warts; that on her +left eyebrow, taken in connection with one on her upper lip, gave a +comical, interrogative expression to her otherwise placid countenance. +She wore a turkey-red petticoat, a Kurta--the short-sleeved jacket +affected by native women; over her shoulders and bare, wrinkled arms +was thrown a strip of embroidered muslin; heavy gold ear-rings and a +massive necklace completed the costume of Mistress Baptista Lopez. +"Aré, so this is the girl," she exclaimed, as she put down her cards +and extended a dumpy hand. For a moment she stared at the visitor in +expressive silence, then turned to her daughter with a wheezy laugh, +and said, "Aré, Bapré Bap! Now who would think she was my grandchild?" +(Who, indeed!) + +Her little black eyes considered every item of Verona's appearance, +from the crown of her dark head to the tip of her neat shoe. + +"What do you think of her, Nani?"--(Hindustani for grandmother.) + +"She looks like a Burra Miss-Sahib; and is awfully handsome. Soon, +soon, she will be married, and you will be glad of that!" + +As Mistress Lopez uttered this prophecy she again looked up at her +daughter and laughed. Her laugh resembled the sound emitted by a pair +of broken bellows. + +"I'm sure _I_ wonder she was not married long ago!" rejoined Mrs. +Chandos in an aggrieved tone. + +"Oh, but Fernanda would not let her," explained the old woman. "I +know her ways! And so you lived with Fernanda Gowdy for years," now +addressing herself to the girl. "She and I were cronies together at +the Kidderpore school; the Kidderpore was such a big place, and stood +in a great park, and now and then the lady in charge gave a great ball +to the officers and people. Anyone could choose a bride. Fernanda was +a beauty, my! such a figure! You might blow her away! That Scotchman +only saw her twice before he made an offer of marriage. She was just +sixteen. I was married at eighteen. My! my! my! whatt a long time a-go; +and Fernanda is dead! Did you like her?" + +"Yes," replied Verona, "she was good to me always. I was very fond of +her." + +"But left you no money, no-a--not one pice. Eete was too bad! Aré, it +was a shame! Yet she never was a mean girl!" + +"She intended to provide for me, and she gave me a first-rate +education." + +"Ah, that is so; and you have learnt to speak and look like some big +swell. Oh, oh, yes! you are a beautee; you will cut out Dominga." + +At this point Mrs. Chandos brusquely interposed, speaking in +Hindustani, and mother and daughter had a loud altercation, which +lasted for some minutes. + +"Well, well, well! let a-lone, let a-lone!" exclaimed the old woman, +who had evidently had the worst of the argument. + +"Verona, child, I hope you may be lucky. Some day I must try your +fortune in the crystal; this is not a good day, it is the twenty-fifth." + +"Your Nani is taken up with signs, and tokens, and cards, and spells," +grumbled Mrs. Chandos, "just like any old bazaar woman. Oh, you will be +surprised at her ways!" + +"I hope she will get used to all our ways, for some of them are funny," +rejoined Mrs. Lopez good-humouredly, and she nodded her head till her +three chins shook again. + +"Yes, you will, miss, oh, so many fine things; but there is no other +home for you, and you cannot live in the river, and be at enmity with +the crocodile!" + +Verona stared at the speaker with an expression of complete +bewilderment. + +"Pah! it is only one of mother's silly proverbs," explained Mrs. +Chandos; "here, sit down," pushing a cane stool towards her. Her +daughter gladly accepted the morah, and while her two relatives once +more discussed her in voluble Hindustani, her eyes wandered languidly +around the room. + +The floor was covered with soiled matting and one handsome Persian +rug. The walls were ornamented with gaudy-coloured prints; in a +corner was a low charpoy, or bed, with red-lacquered legs and heaped +high with pillows; a press, an ancient bureau, a card-table, and a +cooking-stove completed the furniture. Nani's shoes, which were small, +an umbrella, which was large, occupied a prominent position; a dress +on a peg still retained the voluminous outline of her figure: there +were also her domestic pets. In a rude tin cage on the bureau dozed, +as Verona subsequently discovered, a peculiarly rude green parrot. The +empty fire-place, instead of exhibiting the usual paper frills, made +a comfortable cot for a huge black cat. In an angle beyond the press +lay some larger animal, and Verona received a distinct shock when she +discovered that the object of her curiosity was a full-sized goat. + +"Ah!" cried Mrs. Lopez, as she caught her eyes. "The go-at! But she is +so tame--tame as the cat; I keep her for my coffee; I make it myself +fresh, fresh every three days, and see it roasted and ground--just +what fills three bottles. Oh, it is awfully good! You shall have some +to-morrow, when I will tell your fortune." + +"And your Nani will stuff your head with nonsense and proverbs," said +Mrs. Chandos. + +"No-a, indeed! they all feete," protested her mother. "Verona is +sensible, thatt I can see, and now she is in her father's house she +will be content, and will stretch her feet to the length of the sheet. +Won't you, child?" + +"I am not looking for riches and luxuries, ma'am." + +"Yes. But hitherto you have had five fingers in the ghee. You do not +know what it is to be poor." + +As this was true Verona remained silent. + +"And you are so handsome!" resumed the old woman. "You will be +arl-right, I see it in your face. You will be lucky. You know the +saying, 'Who eats sugar, will _get_ sugar.'" + +Then turning sharply to her daughter, she said:--"Rosie, this girl is +not like any one of you, no! she is different to all. It is another +_face_!" + +"And how do you account for it, Nani?" inquired Mrs. Chandos, with a +sneering smile. + +"Oh, it is quite plain! Oh, thatt is easily done!" rejoined Mrs. Lopez +with delighted alacrity. "She takes after my mother. Yes; she must +inherit from her; for, although she was only a Temple girl who danced +before the gods--a Naikin from Goa, where my father first saw her--yet +she was celebrated as the most beautiful woman on the whole West coast!" + +"And you think Verona beautiful, and like her?" cried her daughter, +bursting into a peal of derisive laughter. "Whatt a joke! Well, Nani, +you _must_ be blind! She is well enough, but no beauty." + +"Pah! pah! pah! you are no judge, Rosa! You have only eyes for that red +cat of yours; and I tell you this child," and she pointed to Verona, +"has a face that will make her fortune; it may be, arl your fortunes." + +"And that reminds me of the money," said Mrs. Chandos, with a sudden +start--"the three hundred pounds fortune. Did you bring it in +sovereigns, Verona, as we wished?" + +"Yes, it is all in my dressing bag." + +"Ayah, ayahjee!" and Mrs. Chandos went screaming to the door. "Go, +fetch the Missy's big leather bag, and bring it here, quick, quick! +quick! Or, wait! I go myself," and she darted into the moonlight. + +"She is wonderful, your mother," remarked the old woman; "so sharp +about money! Such a manager! Great show outside, and pinching in the +belly; but she will have it thus, since there are so many to feed, and +young girls to marry. Her wishes are high." + +"Yes," assented her daughter mechanically. + +"Arl-day she works so hard in the office next door, doing figures and +accounts. She owns a few little houses in the bazaar, and adds on to +the pay. It is not much, two hundred a month." + +"Pounds?" suggested her companion. + +"No! rupees--that is to say, shillings. But she is a manager." + +"Well, here it is," panted Mrs. Chandos, pushing open the door with her +foot, and entering bag in hand; "now let us see the money." + +As Verona hastened to produce her keys, and proceeded to unlock the +bag, Mrs. Chandos continued: + +"I will invest it for you, child; it will bring in good interest; +as much as one hundred and fifty rupees a year, which will buy you +clothes." + +"No, no! it is all for you and father," protested the girl. "I only +wish it were more! I really do not want it." + +"Yes, that is what I said," agreed Mrs. Chandos, with astonishing +animation; "but your father does not agree; it is your little dowry, +he says, and is to be put by for your use alone. He will not touch one +pice. Sometimes he can be as obstinate as a rock, and I have given him +a promise not to accept one rupee from you. No! even should you offer +it on your knees!" + +While she was speaking Verona had unearthed a green silk bag, which she +was now about to place upon the table, but Mrs. Chandos seized it from +her, drew the string and emptied out the gold into one shining mass. +How her eyes glittered and her cheeks blazed as she bathed her hands in +the sovereigns, and let them dribble through her claw-like fingers. She +appeared completely transformed, her complexion glowed, the hard lines +on her face relaxed into smiles. + +Verona, as she stared in wonderment, no longer disbelieved the tale +that her mother had once been a beauty. How strange that the mere +sight of gold should thus transfigure her countenance--for a second it +was illumined with the colour and sparkle of her long lost youth. At +this moment there was a sudden sound of crushed gravel without: the +door was opened unceremoniously, and a tall, obese old man stood on +the threshold. Verona's heart failed her as she beheld him, and asked +herself the desperate question if here was yet another relation? + +This time a pure native. + + + + + CHAPTER XIV + + +The visitor wore a long, blue cloth coat, belted with leather, a huge +white turban and a venerable white beard. His air and expression of +benevolent dignity recalled to Verona the pictures of the prophet +Abraham. + +"Why, it is Abdul Buk!" exclaimed Mrs. Chandos. "Abdul, what a man you +are! I believe," laying her hand over the gold in front of her, "you +smell money." + +"Nay!" and he salaamed as he spoke; "I have come hither on a little +business; I know nought of smell, but the sight of money is ever good." +He grinned broadly at his own pleasantry and displayed several yellow +stumps. + +"Behold my new grandchild, Abdul," cried Mrs. Lopez, indicating Verona +with flattering complacency; "is she not well grown?" + +Once more he salaamed, and the girl slightly bent her head in +acknowledgment of the salute. + +"He manages your mother's little property," continued the old woman, +"and has doubled her income. Oh, he is very clever!" + +"I hope he will double this gold," said Mrs. Chandos, piling it up into +neat rows. "See, Abdul, three hundred English sovereigns; it belongs to +my daughter; it is her fortune," and as she spoke she filled both hands +with the coin and held them towards him with a playful air. "Don't you +wish it was all yours?" + +"Money, in a woman's hands, won't last; a child, left in the hands of a +man, won't live," quoted Mrs. Lopez with impressive solemnity. + +"But Abdul will invest it for Verona, and get her good interest--won't +you, Abdul?" said Mrs. Chandos; "say one hundred and fifty rupees a +year." As she spoke she turned towards him, and their eyes met in one +long, fixed look. + +"Oh, yess; certainly," he answered, "I can promise thatt. Oh, yess." + +"Then you will invest in sugar?" + +"Oh, yess." + +"Had you better take it now, or another time?" + +"No time like the present," he replied; "delays are dangerous. See," +to Mrs. Lopez, "I have the English proverbs at my fingers' ends. My +carriage is here, and I will take the money. In this big house it is +not safe." + +"That is true," acquiesced Nani. Meanwhile Mrs. Chandos, who seemed to +be feverishly excited, gathered up the sovereigns with hot, tremulous +fingers, and returned them into the green silk bag, which she handed to +Abdul with a nod of mysterious significance. + +"Of course, he will give a receipt," said Mrs. Lopez in a sharp +business-like voice; "better take receipt." + +"Oh, yess; I will go into the office and write it, and Mrs. Chandos +will lend me one stamp," and he tramped out with ponderous creaking +footfall. Whilst Abdul was absent the crocodile travelling case +attracted Mrs. Lopez' curiosity, and she requested an immediate +introduction to its further contents. One by one these were gradually +presented, a tiny gold watch and jewelled chain, a case of valuable +rings. As each was exhibited Mrs. Lopez and her daughter joined in a +harmonious duet of "Oh, mys!" But a turquoise and diamond necklace, +and a splendid emerald pendant, set in brilliants, reduced them to +a condition of gasping silence. Subsequent silver-mounted brushes, +mirrors and bottles and even a gold shoe-horn appeared in comparison +but very small deer. Had that gambling old card-table, imported in +the early days of John Company, ever exhibited as much money's worth? +The ayah had crept in stealthily; so had Pussy. Were they drawn by +some inexplicable instinct, or by the mere, careless chance of pure +coincidence? Abdul, too, had returned, paper in hand, and stood silent +in the background, admiring, and possibly appraising, the jewels. +What a scene for an artist! The hot, squalid room, the dark faces, +the staring, greedy eyes; in the midst the little old table loaded +with jewels, and the pale, indifferent English girl to whom they all +belonged. + +"What think you of these, Abdul?" demanded Mrs. Chandos, pointing with +a tremulous finger. + +"That," advancing two steps, with creaking boots, "the wife of the +Viceroy hath no better." + +"And their value?" she asked, sharply. + +"Nay, I am ignorant. I deal in sugar cane and gram, not precious +stones. It were wise to put them in some place of safety, and here is +the receipt for the money," he continued, holding out a sheet of paper +on which was inscribed: "Manora, September fifth. Received, to place at +good, safe interest, as I may find occasion, the sum of three hundred +sovereigns, English money, from Miss Verona Chandos, the interest to be +paid every six months into her hands by me, ABDUL HAMID BUK." + +"There! that is all right and stamped," he said, "and now I will take +the gold and depart. I would advise the Missy Sahib to be mindful of +her jewels." + +"Thank God the money will be out of the house!" said Mrs. Lopez, +piously; "this, as is well known, is an awful district for robbery and +murder." + +"Only among natives," corrected Mrs. Chandos, with a fearless toss of +her head. + +"It has a very bad name," argued her mother, "that you know, and that +is why Salwey is in charge of the police; truly the last man was an old +woman." + +"And this one is a young devil!" cried her daughter with startling +vehemence. + +"Come to the office once more, Abdul. I want a word with you about my +rents," said Mrs. Chandos. + +"Certainly," he replied, and, money in hand, and having executed a +general salaam, the benignant patriarch tramped out of the room in the +wake of his employer. Pussy assisted her sister to collect and put away +the jewellery, uttering, as she did so, many flattering adjectives. + +"Now you must go to bed, children," announced their grandmother; +"it is after nine o'clock. The travelling girl is dead tired," and +at last Verona escaped to her own quarters, kind Pussy carrying the +dressing-bag, and affectionately anxious to help her to undress, and, +above all, to brush her hair. Her good offices were set aside with the +greatest difficulty. Being naturally a little dense, it never dawned +upon Bellamina Chandos that her sister did not require assistance, or +would prefer her own company. + +At last her simple mind accepted the novel idea, and her entreaties +ceased. + +"Dom," she whispered, as she embraced her, "is not quite sure; but _I_ +know--that I shall love you." + +With one vigorous hug she vanished, and Verona was left alone. + + * * * * * + +As soon as she had closed and carefully bolted the door on Pussy's +pretty entreating face, Verona turned down the smoky lamp and sat for a +considerable time in the dark, alone with her own thoughts. Presently +these thoughts became so terrible--so unbearably painful, like some +intense physical agony, that she rose, unfastened the window and +wandered into the verandah and down a path by the bank of the river. +The river was wide and swift, being swollen by the recent rains; on the +further side it was bordered by a high jungle of reeds and rushes, and +beyond it, as seen through a filmy veil of gauze, lay the spreading +moonlit plain which seemed to stretch away into the infinite, which +was also India! Behind rose the bungalow, large and straggling: on the +left towered the factory; to the right lay the office, with the light +still burning in the window. Verona noticed these details as she paced +the pathway, flitting to and fro like some distracted spirit on the +banks of the Styx; and was she not a creature suddenly transported +to an unknown world? She was no longer Verona Chandos, who had fared +delicately all her life, who had a carefully cultivated taste in +music and literature, definite ideas respecting bindings and coloured +prints, who collected book plates, was discriminating in her choice +of associates, dainty in her tastes, a much-desired partner for golf, +bridge or cotillon, a girl who had found her world a pleasant place +to live in, and had tried to share with others some of the sunshine +which had fallen to her lot. And she was not a bad girl--though she +might have been better; was inclined to be quick-tempered and a little +supercilious, but she had endeavoured to be sincere, to be kind to the +sick and poor, and to champion dumb animals. Well, that Verona was +dead; she had passed away for ever, with all her little vanities and +tempers and love of pretty clothes and interesting pursuits. + +And here was the other, the real original Verona, a poor half-caste, +whose life and thoughts must be confined to the limits of her parents' +purse and wishes, who must keep in step with her two sisters and look +for nothing beyond the horizon of her home. And what had she in common +with her relations? Nothing beyond the mere fact of her existence and +name. Apparently their aim in life was to climb into station society; +and her aim in life?--what was her dearest wish at the present moment? +Her dearest wish--she scarcely dared whisper it even to her inner +soul. Verona was making acquaintance with the truth, the hideous, +hard-hearted truth, and her thoughts were so disordered that she did +not realise what time of night it was, or even that it was night! But +at last her tired body refused to co-operate with her restless mind, +and completely exhausted, she was compelled to drag herself to her +bed--where sleep immediately claimed her. + +Though dreams visited the worn-out traveller, her slumbers were almost +as profound as if she had really passed away. Once she awoke in the +still night; the moon streamed full into the room; there was a faint +sound of flowing water. Where was she? Her drowsy brain failed to +recall the great events of yesterday. + +Suddenly a strange, weird sound pierced the silence, the wild, horrible +howl of a pack of hunting jackals as they swept across the plain beyond +the river, and for a frantic moment the wretched girl believed herself +to be listening, in some dim region, to the agonised wailing of lost +souls. + +But no; it was only a hideous nightmare! She turned on her side with a +sigh of relief, and again relapsed into slumber. + +In the morning when Verona opened her eyes, it was to gaze vacantly +about her. She was at a loss to remember how she came to be lying +in this great bare room. Where was she? Was she in Spain, or some +out-of-the-way French town? She strove to summon her scattered +thoughts, and all too soon they came trooping back and assured her that +she was at last at home--yes, in her real home, among her own people! +She was sensible of a feeling of repulsion and absolute despair, and +yet another self--which must have been her original baby self--cried +shame on her for her hard heart and unnatural, wicked pride. Why should +she be proud? She was nothing more nor less than a well-educated +half-caste, who had been foolishly removed from her proper sphere, +her own particular class. Her father--oh! why had he married a woman +of such a race? Now, she understood his constrained manner, his +ashamed silence and his downcast air, why he seemed to shun his former +associates and to withdraw from society like some social outlaw. And +she, who had never had one hint of her own origin, had acquired the +ideas, refinements and prejudices of a high-bred English girl. What was +to become of her? + +She sat up in bed, holding her hands to her throbbing head, and +endeavoured to individualise her relations. Her father--the broken-down +gentleman, lethargic and dumb; her mother--she shrank from the subject +as a flame; her sisters--uneducated, emotional, shrill; given to cheap +scents and greasy sweetmeats; her grandmother--but one degree above the +ayah; and her own good looks complacently attributed to an ancestress, +a Temple girl who danced before the gods! + +It all sounded like an Opéra Bouffe, a transformation scene of wild, +topsy-turvy comedy, instead of which it was the sharp, agonising truth; +no burlesque, but a heart-breaking tragedy--the tragedy of her life. +How was she to endure this existence? What could she do? Where could +she go? Where hide herself? For the first time in her existence, a +longing for death surprised her. + +There was a loud rattling and calling at the door, which she +opened, to discover (as she half expected), Pussy, in a tattered +pink dressing-jacket and bare feet, bringing her her morning Chotah +Hazri. Here was an end to silence and self-communion; she must rouse +herself, summon her self-command and confront her fate. Meanwhile a +cup of fragrant Indian tea, some slices of curious grey bazaar bread +and peculiarly white butter seemed delicious fare to a girl, who had +scarcely tasted food for four-and-twenty hours. + +The long hours of the morning were devoted by Verona to unpacking her +boxes and distributing gifts, such as books, fans, little ornaments and +knick-knacks; her sisters and Nicky were enchanted with their presents; +her mother only, accepted her share with a doubtful and ungracious air, +nor did she attempt to disguise her opinion that she regarded such +outlay as a sinful waste of money. + +In the afternoon, when tiffin was over, it was the custom of the entire +family to repair to their several lairs in order to enjoy a long +siesta; and Verona, thus released, now set about unpacking her own +personal effects; but Pussy, for once, dispensed with her nap and clung +to her sister with an offer of her society and assistance; it was +impossible for her to comprehend that any one could endure to be alone. + +She artlessly believed that Verona was as anxious for her company +as she was to accord it. Her co-operation being politely declined, +instead of taking her departure--as hoped for--Pussy merely kicked off +her shoes and flung herself at full length on the bed, where she lay +in an attitude of voluptuous ease, lazily contemplating her sister's +exertions. + +"My, my, my! how neat you are!" she exclaimed in admiration, as she +watched her busy relative emptying boxes and putting away linen, "and +how quick; the ayah would have taken hours! What heaps of stockings, +petticoats, and books--none of us read, except father and Dom--you see, +we've not had much schooling. Nicky is as ignorant as a coolie boy; +only for that, he would get into the works. I am just as bad. Dominga +is our clever one; she writes a good hand, and she sings splendidly." + +"Oh, does she?" said Verona; "where was she taught?" + +"She learnt at the school; we were both at school in Nani Tal. They say +her voice is extraordinary, you can hear it half a koss away. She plays +tennis and badminton better than any girl in Manora. Mother is so proud +of her! Mother is clever too, especially at writing and figures; she +loves accounts. Yes, mother loves two things, Dominga and money! Father +loves silence and smoking. Nani loves coffee and news." + +"And Pussy?" looking up with a smile. + +"Loves you, Verona." + +"Thank you, dear." + +"And also someone, oh, so much! but I cannot tell you _yet_; it is a +secret," and Pussy turned her face away and hid her blushes in the +pillow. However, her blushes and emotion were of transitory duration, +for in a few seconds her sprightly voice was saying: + +"Of course, _you_ have a thousand lovers, Verona?" + +"I? Certainly not!" + +"Oh, but--it cannot be true; why there is Dominga, not a quarter so +pretty, and she has had dozens. Even Lizzie Trotter has a young man in +the commissariat." + +"And I have not, even what you call one young man, in anything." + +"You are so pretty, you will get millions of offers; mother wishes us +all to marry. Even when Blanche went, and it was such a poor match, she +was glad. She expects Dominga to marry an officer. Ah, Rona, you are +not even listening," she protested in a little piteous wail, "and I +thought you might like to hear all about it." + +"Of course I am listening," replied her sister, from the interior of an +open box over which she was stooping; "you were saying something about +Dominga and an officer." + +"Yes, and we hardly know one. Father was in the army himself, the 51st +Hussars, and yet he will never call on the mess, although friends of +his have been in the station. Father is so odd--nothing will make him +go near a regiment, not even mother, and she can generally get him +to do whatever she chooses; he has given in to her about everything, +except about _you_." + +"What about me?" asked her sister, quickly raising her head; "but no, +don't tell me--it is better not." + +"Oh, mother will tell you herself; it is no secret! She has told +everyone in Manora that she did not want you to come out. It was +another girl to marry, she said, and no money! She declared you +could get a nice situation at home; and you were a stranger, a black +stranger, and would ruin us with your bad example and silly English +notions. Even Nani said you were like the Dhoby's donkey, for you +neither belonged to the house, or the river! You know how she talks in +proverbs?" + +"Yes," assented Verona in a faint voice. + +"But father swore you should come, and he wrote himself--he who never +writes. Do you know, when mother got your letter she screamed for three +whole hours! She always does that when she is awfully angry. Oh, she +is not angry now she has seen you; no, no, no, she is proud! I heard +her this morning talking over the wall to Mrs. Trotter, and boasting of +your air and figure. But still I think Dominga will always be first." + +"And why not? My mother has had her with her since she was born, and I +am, as you know, a stranger." + +"You won't be long so," declared Pussy; "you will soon be at home, I +can see. Just look how you've put away your things and arranged this +room. Now, I must tell you something about the people all round before +they come to call--so you will know. First of all there are Mr. and +Mrs. Lepell in the big bungalow; he is the manager of the factory, and +draws two thousand rupees a month; he is nice and friendly, but we +never get to know _her_ any better. Oh, she is not exactly proud, but +she keeps us off. Her father was a big swell, and she has a fortune. +She is not at all young; mother says she must be five-and-forty, but +she dresses beautifully, and gives such fine parties; they entertain +the whole station like a king and queen. Yess, she is quite the Burra +Mem Sahib, and only asks us to her small affairs, when we meet just the +other factory people. Mother hates her--oh, goody me!--like poison, but +is always awfully pleasant to her, and sends her her best mango jelly +and chutney, because she hopes she may take up Dominga. She did ask Dom +once to sing, and if Mrs. Lepell would chaperon Dom into society, her +fortune would be made. Oh, my, yess!" + +"I see," assented her listener, "and it is with this hope that mother +sends her mango jam?" + +"Of course. Then there are the Trotters," resumed Pussy, with an air +of complacent narration; "he was only a sergeant in some regiment, and +he is the engineer here; they say he is very clever--just a common, +rough man, with such a pushing family. There is Mrs. Trotter and Amelia +and Georgina, Louisa and Tom. Tom is in the works. He and Dominga used +to be pals; but she threw him over long ago. The Trotters are always +looking down on us, because we have never been home, and they were +born in England; but they are coolie people, and our father is an +officer and a gentleman. Sometimes we are awfully friendly with the +Trotters, and in and out ten times a day; sometimes we don't speak for +months. Last time we quarrelled was about a bottle of anchovy sauce +which they never returned. + +"Then there are the Watkins, a newly-married couple, out from +Manchester. He is secretary; she is awfully prim, and afraid to know +any one, and dresses for dinner when they are quite _alone_, and talks +of her father keeping two gardeners. There are the Cavalhos; they are +just half-castes; oh, so dark, and yet not bad. I like them; they +are awfully good natured. When anyone is in trouble they all run to +Mistress Cavalho. Also, there are the Olivers--gone home on leave--very +nice people and not stiff, though they are gentry folk. There are some +young men clerks--Raymond, and Smith and Mackenzie. We all meet at the +tennis three times a week and play together, whether we are friends or +not. Then there is Salwey----" She paused. + +"Who is he?" inquired Verona, feigning an interest which she was far +from feeling. + +"The police officer, a nephew of Mrs. Lepell's; he lives in +cantonments. He is so strict and severe. Oh, mother does hate him--I +believe she is afraid of him!" + +"How can he possibly affect mother?" inquired Verona, as she sorted out +some gloves. + +"Of course, not at all, but he gives you the horrid notion that he can +read your thoughts, and knows every single little thing about you. +Whenever he looks at me, I can't help wriggling like an insect on a +pin, and mother declares that he has the evil eye!" + +"The evil eye!" repeated Verona; "you don't really believe in such +nonsense?" + +"Well, perhaps not. Salwey's eyes are bluey-grey, like steel. He is not +bad looking, and once--now I'll tell you a secret----" + +"No, don't! Please!" protested Verona, throwing up her hands. + +"Oh, but I must; I do like talking secrets," pursued Pussy with +breathless volubility, "I think Dominga used to be crazy about him, and +sent him notes by Nicky." + +"What!" + +"Yes; but I don't believe he ever gave them. Salwey and Nicky are +great friends. He lives near the river and has a boat, and comes up +to the Lepells that way when he is in the station. He gave Nicky a +pup, and books and advice, and taught him to row. We have a boat, too. +Nicky's awfully fond of Salwey, he just worships him; but he can't bear +Dominga, and I don't believe he ever gave the letters. You must know +that in this house there are two factions: it is Dom and mother against +Nick and me. Oh! oh! oh!" suddenly sitting erect, "you are getting out +your dresses! how lovelee!" as Verona unfolded and displayed a white +crêpe de chine, a green foulard and an exquisite white and silver ball +dress. + +Pussy clapped her hands excitedly, and screaming, "Oh, I must call the +others," leapt off the bed and ran shoeless out of the room. + +Verona was a girl who wore her clothes well in every respect; not +only had she the knack of investing them with her own grace and +individuality, but they still seemed dainty and fresh long after they +had passed their first bloom. There were no tea or coffee stains on +the front breadth (that every-day misfortune), frayed seams or ragged +edges in the gowns she was taking from her boxes or ranging round the +room for the promised exhibition. Here were tailor costumes, evening +dresses, muslins, laces and many dainty frocks which had been worn at +Homburg, Aix and Cannes, and some had cost what is figuratively termed +"a small fortune." + +The apartment now resembled the atelier of some fashionable milliner, +the stock was so choice and extensive. In a surprisingly short time +the "others" had assembled. These included Mrs. Chandos, her hair in +curling pins, spotted dressing-jacket and short striped petticoat--she +had very neat feet; Dominga, in ragged _déshabille_; the ayah, +attracted from her hookah; last, not least, Granny Lopez, clad in +a loose garment that was really an old tussore silk dust-cloak, a +scanty petticoat and a pair of discarded tennis shoes, carrying under +her arm a reluctant black cat--all come to behold and gloat over the +great show. Nani was accommodated with a chair, and Verona, by special +request, held up and exhibited separately the most elegant items of her +wardrobe. + +What little screams of admiration greeted the sight of some garments; +what a chorus of "Oh, mys!" attended the display of others. By the +end of half an hour every possible epithet of admiration had been +exhausted, and Verona was exhausted too. + +"Well, in all my life, I never did see such beautiful clothes," +confessed Mrs. Chandos. + +Which statement was no doubt true. + +"They must have cost hundreds of pounds." + +This was also a fact. + +"Oh, my! Oh, my! what advantages you have had, Verona, child, compared +with these poor girls," she continued as she flitted about the room +in a condition of extraordinary excitement; "you must share your fine +feathers with them now. If Dominga here were set off in that blue and +white, she would look every bit as well as you; all she wants is to be +dressed up in good clothes--eh, Nani?" + +"That is so," agreed the elder with her wheezy laugh, "for who can row +without water?" + +"Now I shall divide some of these things," declared Mrs. Chandos, as +she hovered about; "Verona could not wear half of them." + +Verona, who had made up her mind never again to mix in society, and +had originally brought out this large outfit with the intention of +sharing it with her sisters, would nevertheless have preferred to have +bestowed her garments to her own liking, and not to stand by passively +while her mother distributed her wardrobe. The choicest articles were +shamelessly selected for Dominga--for instance, a magnificent white +satin gown, a pale blue crêpe de chine, an elaborate lace costume, a +mauve and silver tea gown. Then Pussy was endowed with various frocks +and hats (Verona helping in the selection), and the possession of a +certain pink feather boa had made her completely happy. Verona also +chose a pretty chiffon cape, which she spread over her grandmother's +ample shoulders. It was a very orgie of millinery, among which Mrs. +Chandos hovered, picking out a toque here, a sash there. At last, when +the supply had become somewhat low, she said: + +"Well, that will do for the girls; I will take these blouses and the +pink satin for myself; it will alter, and I will wear it for the +Volunteer Ball. Eh, Nani, what do you say?" + +"I say that if you wear such a frock you'll be more celebrated than the +devil!" + +"Ah, bah!" cried her daughter. "You funny old woman. Is that all you +have to say?" + +"No," she responded, and turning to Verona with a nod of her head at +the different piles of her property which had been distributed, "they +all like you very much now, Verona, child--'he who holds the ladle has +everybody his friend.' But let me tell you one thing more--your mother +has a pocket like the crop of a duck--you can never fill it!" + +"And you are a curiosity and should be put in a museum," retorted her +daughter in great good humour. "Come, come, it is now half-past four +o'clock; Blanche and Montagu will be here soon; let us clear away and +dress," and swooping down upon a heap of her spoils, Mrs. Chandos +hurried out of the room, followed by Dominga, Pussy and the ayah, each +bowed down and nearly hidden by their loads of new finery. + +But Mrs. Lopez was slower to move; having extricated herself from her +chair with considerable difficulty, she stood for a moment gazing at +Verona, and said, in an impressive voice: + +"You have given me a nice present; you are a very generous girl and do +not despise your old crannie grandmother, so I will tell you one good +proverb to cheer you! Now listen." + +"I am listening, Nani." + +"'Our past is ourselves, what we are, and will be,'" quoted Mrs. +Lopez, and she continued to look fixedly at Verona with a significant +expression in her little dark eyes. "Do not trouble, child--you will +never be of _us_," then hitching the black cat under her arm, she +waddled away to her own quarters. + + + + + CHAPTER XV + + +There was a sudden commotion in the front part of the +bungalow--barking, running and calling. Dominga, in a breathless +condition, burst in upon Verona, and gasped out: + +"Oh, my goodness, here is Blanche! and none of us are dressed! Do go +into the drawing-room, you are ready. Go, go, go!" + +Thus exhorted, Verona hastened into that apartment, barely in time to +see a gharry, drawn by two wretched ponies, rattle underneath the porch. + +The first person she descried was a stout ayah, who descended +backwards, carrying an infant over her shoulder; an alert, +sharp-looking creature, in a gay hood, with eyes like two jet beads, +and a dusky skin. + +The next to appear was, no doubt, Blanche herself; a little, dark, wiry +woman, closely resembling her mother, wearing a smart pink cotton, a +picture hat and a profusion of bead chains. She sprang up the steps, +suddenly stopped short, stared helplessly at Verona, and exclaimed: + +"Hul--lo! I suppose this is the third Miss Chandos?" Then she giggled +immoderately, and proceeded to kiss her, adding: + +"I am Blanche. Blanche Montagu Jones, you know, and here," turning and +dragging forward her husband, "is your brother, Montagu." + +Montagu was a lank, narrow-chested Eurasian, showily dressed in a blue +and white striped suit; he wore a red satin tie, a gilt chain and +several rings. He had well-cut features, a simple, amiable expression, +and a pair of pale grey eyes, which seemed peculiarly out of place when +contrasted with his dark face, and ink-black hair. + +"Come, you may kiss her; I give you leave," declared his sprightly +wife, pushing him forward with both hands. + +But however willing he might have been to accept this permission, +there was an expression on the face of the third Miss Chandos which +constrained him, and he merely sniggered and offered a limp hand. + +"What! not kiss Monty, your own brother?" cried Blanche, in a tone +of affronted amazement, "then all I can say is--I'm sorry for your +_taste_!" + +Meanwhile Monty consoled himself by saluting his mother-in-law--with +whom he appeared to be on terms of unnatural affection. + +"And here," resumed Blanche, now waving forward her offspring, "is your +dear little nephew, Chandos Montagu Jones; he is ten weeks old to-day. +Kiss your new auntie, sweetie king." + +From this embrace there was of course no escape; for the ayah promptly +handed the child to Verona with an air of gratified relief. If Verona +had been informed that it was the woman's own infant, she would have +accepted the announcement without demur, the little thing was so dark; +its olive face was bright and cheery, and she dandled it, kissed it, +and carried it about with a secret presentiment that she would like it +better than either of its parents! + +"Well, now there is so much I want to know," began Blanche, as she +threw herself into a chair; "when did she come?" nodding at Verona, +"for we all went to the train and could not see her anywhere. We took +the De Castros, and the Jenkins, and Mr. Bott, and those two young +fellows from the cantonment office. Oh, my! they were all dying to get +the first sight of Verona, and she was not there. She must have come by +the four o'clock, and we went to the half-past two." + +"Dios!" suddenly interrupting herself with a loud shriek, for here +entered, with mincing and self-conscious gait, Dominga and Pussy, +attired in two of Verona's most elegant casino costumes. The former +in pale green (her particular colour), veiled with white lace, and +garnished with black velvet; the latter, in a superb hand-painted +muslin. They wore hats and ruffles to correspond, and an air of +overwhelming complacency. + +"Why, why, what is this, what is this?" screamed Blanche, backing +towards the verandah with uplifted hands and an expression of awe and +bewilderment. + +Without delay it was volubly explained to her by three voices, all +gabbling together, that these were the garments of Verona, who had +more smart clothes than the room could hold. Then Dominga and Pussy +sat down, each on a separate sofa, spread out their skirts, fanned +themselves languidly, and proceeded to imagine that they were fine +ladies. Gradually Blanche's gaze of awed admiration faded into a scowl +of envy. + +Montagu stared and sniggered, and twirled his moustache, whilst Verona +stood in the background, holding the little dark child, who apparently +liked her, and clung to her neck like a very crab. + +"Oh, but you shall have your share, too!" said Dominga, in a soothing +tone, as she recognised the storm cone--for Blanche had inherited her +mother's temper. + +"There is a lovely toque for you, and such a dress piece of white +alpaca, and you shall have one of my parasols. There now!" + +"Parasol, cha--a--h" (native expression of scorn)--"you put me off like +that! Why shouldn't I have a smart dress? How sly and greedy you all +are, keeping the grand things to yourselves--just like pigs. One thing +you forget," as she straightened herself and glared from Dominga to +Pussy, then back from Pussy to Dominga, "I am the eldest!" + +"Oh, yes, but that does not count now," was the bold retort, "you are +not one of us; you are married. Oh, my!" with a change of key. "Here is +Mrs. Lepell, what shall we do?" + +During this interesting altercation a slim little lady, with a clever +piquant face, had walked on to the verandah totally unnoticed. + +She wore a simple linen gown and a large garden hat, and her hair, +which was turned off her delicate careworn face, was touched with grey. + +"How do you do, Mrs. Chandos?" she said, coming forward, then gave a +perceptible start as her eye fell on the two Paris models. + +"I've just walked across to call on your daughter, the new arrival," +and she nodded to the rest of the company. + +"Oh, thank you," stammered Mrs. Chandos, "you are so kind, there +she is," and she beckoned to Verona, who stood in the background, +still holding the child; this its grandmother snatched from her with +irritable haste, and said as she thrust it into the ayah's arms: + +"Verona, here is Mrs. Lepell, she has been so kind as to ask for you." + +If Mrs. Lepell had been amazed by the brilliant toilettes of the Misses +Chandos, she was more astonished now, when a girl of her own class +came slowly forward: a beautiful dark-eyed creature, with an air of +unaffected distinction. + +At first she could scarcely believe the evidence of her senses. Here, +indeed, was a dove in the crow's nest. + +"So you only arrived yesterday?" she managed to articulate at last. + +"Yes, last evening." + +"Shall we sit over here?" said Mrs. Lepell, indicating a settee a +little apart. Her visit was to the stranger, whose acquaintance she was +now really anxious to make. She particularly disliked Mrs. Chandos, +and if there was one young woman who was more obnoxious to her than +Dominga, it was Blanche Montagu Jones. The family accepted the hint +with obvious reluctance, and stood aloof in a group, whispering, +giggling and wrangling. + +"I believe you have never been in India since you were a small child," +continued Mrs. Lepell, addressing her companion. + +"No, I do not remember it; I have lived in Europe for twenty years." + +"Ah, I wonder what you will think of us all!" + +Verona raised her eyes to her visitor, then dropped them hastily, but +not before Mrs. Lepell had caught their look of unspoken despair. + +"I am quite an old Anglo-Indian," she continued briskly. "I loathed +the country at first, now I am much attached to it; the cold weather +will be here in another few weeks. You will enjoy that, it is our gay +season." + +Here it seemed to Mrs. Lepell that her companion gave a slight +involuntary shudder. + +"I am sure you will wonder at the way these mad girls are giggling," +said Mrs. Chandos, with a would-be jaunty air, as she approached and +indicated Dominga and Pussy. "They are awfully smart, and have been +trying on their sister's kind presents." + +"Why, mother," interposed Blanche (who had no fear of Mrs. Lepell, her +husband not being in the factory), "Pussy tells me that besides the +beautiful presents she brought out, you divided all Verona's best gowns +between her and Dominga!" + +On such occasions as the present Mrs. Chandos hated her eldest +daughter, who had a sharp and utterly fearless tongue. + +"Oh, you do not understand," she began excitedly. + +"I see I've come in for a dress-rehearsal," observed Mrs. Lepell, +hoping to smooth matters. + +"Borrowed plumes! secondhand clothes. Ch-a-ah!" sneered Blanche, in +a shrill, discordant key. She breathed so hard that all her beads +jingled, and her husband retreated precipitately into the verandah. + +Was Blanche going to have a row with her mother? + +Oh, she was so fond of rows! Rows commencing with shrill vituperation, +screaming abuse, and concluding (in cases of defeat) in hysterics and +collapse. + +"I think you must have come out with the Trevors," continued Mrs. +Lepell, as she turned to Verona, "I see they were in the _Egypt_." + +"Yes, and I met them before; we were at the same hotel in Cannes for +three months." + +"Then you know the Riviera?" + +"Yes, we generally spent the winter there--or in Florence." + +"You seem to have travelled a good deal." + +"We lived on the Continent ever since I grew up. This time last year we +were at Homburg." + +"I wonder if you met my cousins, Sir Ellis and Lady Byng? They go there +every season." + +"Oh, yes, I used to go motoring with them, and played golf with their +daughter Eva; she is such a nice girl. We were great friends." + +For the moment Verona had forgotten herself and her surroundings. +She was no longer a Eurasian, patronised by the wife of her father's +employer, but one English woman talking to another on an agreeable +equality. + +"I'm sure you had happy times at Homburg," said Mrs. Lepell, "and of +course you went to the Opera at Frankfort?" + +"Yes, constantly; we used to rush over on a motor car." + +"And here you come down to bullock carts! Well, if we're not +progressive, we're at least picturesque. I hope you brought out a few +of the last new books, as well as the last new fashions?" + +"Yes, I've a fairly good supply, and all this month's magazines." + +"Then I shall certainly come and borrow from you; I am a ravenous +reader, and find it difficult to keep myself going in books. At present +I am starving and reduced to back numbers." + +"I shall be delighted to supply you." + +"Very well, then," said Mrs. Lepell, rising, "you have no idea how +rapacious I can be. I hope you will come and see me as soon as you are +settled. I am always at home, from three to five." + +This was the warmest invitation the stiff-necked little lady had ever +accorded to a Chandos; she had never told Dominga she was "at home from +three to five." But, then, she neither admired nor pitied Dominga, who +was not an interesting acquaintance, merely an emotional, empty-headed +half-caste, with a fierce craving for pleasure, and a powerful soprano +voice. + +This new arrival was a totally different person, well-educated, +refined, reserved. Alas, poor child! fresh from congenial English +society and many agreeable friends, to be cast into the midst of this +squalid Eurasian family. What a fate! + + + + + CHAPTER XVI + + +Mr. and Mrs. Montagu Jones remained to dine with their relations, and +Nani Lopez joined the party, invested in the rich satin purple gown +which she had purchased for Blanche's wedding; or, more correctly +speaking, she wore the flowing skirt, but had substituted for the +bodice an easy white jacket, and had coloured her face white to +correspond. Verona surveyed her venerable relations with reproachful +eyes. _How_ could people, who were naturally dark, imagine it possible +to change their skin by merely covering it with layers of pearl powder? + +"Granny always comes in when we have Blanche," explained Dominga, in a +whisper, "because she hears the news. All the same she and Blanche were +never good friends. She calls Blanche a silly little bazaar cat." + +Mr. Chandos, who seemed to spend his entire day in the factory, +appeared shortly before dinner and received with surprise the little +gifts offered by his English daughter. + +"Books," he muttered, "now I wonder how you guessed at what I liked +best? Books, and a tobacco pouch. My two resources are reading and +smoking." + +"Oh, yess, he is arl-right when he has his pipe and his books," +remarked Nani Lopez in her soft fat voice. "He thinks he gets away from +his cares; but it is not so. Go to the wilderness, you cannot escape +fleas." + +During dinner conversation was loud and animated. Blanche and Dominga, +who were seated opposite to one another, leant their elbows on the +table, and screamed across the board in their thin ear-piercing +trebles. Dominga volubly related the particulars of a recent social +outrage on the part of Mrs. Watkin, whilst Blanche, whose feelings were +chiefly on the surface, gave a highly coloured description of the death +of a kid and the illness of a bosom friend. + +"I went to see Lucia Mendoza this morning. She looked so, so sick. +Well, I declare I was so struck, I fell down on her bed and I cried, +and I cried. If anything should happen to thatt girl, I shall _die_; I +know I shall." + +"What nonsense you talk, child!" protested her grandmother. "Such +foolish grief might have frightened the poor creature to death." + +"And," broke in Nicky, "though you and Lucia Mendoza are such grand +friends now, it is not a month since you came out here very mad, and +talking of going to law, because she had called you bad names." + +"If Lucia were to take curdled milk and coriander seed she would soon +get arl-right," resumed Mrs. Lopez, "but she should begin it on a +Wednesday, it is a lucky day. Mind you tell her," and she looked over +at Blanche, and nodded her head impressively. + +"Isn't Nani a funny old woman?" said Blanche, suddenly addressing +herself to Verona. "Did you ever see anyone like her in England?" + +"Now, you don't talk like thatt, Mistress Blanche Jones," interposed +the old lady good-humouredly. "Anyhow, I know more of drugs, and cures, +and charms, than any old woman she has ever seen. Do you tell us some +news!" + +Thus invited, Blanche readily poured out all the latest intelligence +respecting the forthcoming theatricals, and the race meeting which was +to be held after Christmas. A long altercation ensued respecting the +prices of tickets, in which Monty, Pussy and Mrs. Chandos took part. +Even Granny Lopez threw in a word or two, but Verona and her father +remained silent; his thoughts were obviously elsewhere, and as far +as the family were concerned, his body might have accompanied them; +evidently they were accustomed to his attitude of remoteness. Verona +looked at his hollow, expressionless eyes, and wondered what manner of +man he might be? His stolid, inert silence had an almost paralysing +effect, but she struggled bravely against the sensation, and ventured +several remarks on the climate, the wonderful beauty of the surrounding +trees and shrubs, the war in South Africa; but to all these efforts +the sole response was a brief, monosyllabic reply. She felt repulsed, +painfully disappointed, and shrank into herself and silence. + +Meanwhile Blanche was retailing to her delighted grandmother the most +recent and reliable "cook-house" gossip. She learnt that Mrs. Cotton +had had five ayahs in a week, her temper was so furious, and she had +got an awfully bad name in the bazaar. The Coopers of the railway had +always bragged of their cook, and now he had run away with a lot of +money, four fat ducks, and the new water filter. + +Then there was a rumour of the other half of the regiment coming from +Bhetapore. The colonel's lady and the major's lady did not speak, they +had quarrelled about a dirzee. There were going to be theatricals in +Rajahpore in race week, a big ball in Lucknow for charity; anyone could +go who paid ten rupees. + +"But for my part," added Blanche, "now I am married, I don't care for +dancing. Give me my evenings at home!" + +"Oh, wait till the dances begin in the cold weather," rejoined Mrs. +Lopez, "and all the other women go. Oh! I know you! 'The cat is a +Dervish--till the milk comes'!" + +Blanche merely shrugged her skinny shoulders and giggled, then leaning +half across the table, said: + +"Mother, is it true that the Trotters are always asking that young +Smith out, and making a fuss with him and having him to dinner? Do you +think Mrs. Trotter wants to marry him to Lizzie?" + +"Mrs. Trotter told me yesterday," announced Nani Lopez, resolved not to +be thrust out of the conversation, "that it is all foolish talk, and +there is nothing in it; but I do not believe her. There is two hundred +rupees a month, and free quarters in it; we can all see her plan and +the meaning of her good dinners. It is a mountain behind a straw!" + +"You will notice your grandmother has a proverb for every occasion," +said Mr. Chandos, at last turning to Verona and addressing her. If +they were the silent members of the party, they were also to all +appearances--the sole Europeans present. + +Mrs. Lopez, Mrs. Chandos, Blanche, Pussy, Monty, and Nicky were dark. +Even Dominga, for all her white skin, had a peculiar foreign look; +there was something alien in the cast of her features, and the shrill +tone of her voice. + +Monty made little conversation, but an excellent meal; indeed, most +of the family ate heartily of mulligatawny, stewed beef and stuffed +bunjals, concluding with a quantity of mysterious-looking sweetmeats. + +"You must come in and stay with us, and we will show you off," said +Blanche, accosting Verona. "I will take you to church, and to the club; +you will cut out all the officers' wives. My, how they will stare! Oh, +goody me!" + +"But you cannot have Verona!" protested Dominga, "you have never been +able to have Pussy, or me; you know you have no room." + +"Oh I can make room if I _want_ to," rejoined Blanche, meeting her +sister's gaze with a bold stare. + +"Truly you are paid a fine compliment by Mistress Blanche," put in her +irrepressible Nani. "She does not care for guests. She likes, as the +proverb says, 'Talk in my house--a dinner--in yours.'" + +"I will introduce Verona to the railway and the telegraph people," +resumed Blanche (wisely ignoring this disagreeable interruption). "We +will get up some parties and have lots of jolly fun. Now we will go +into the drawing-room, and Verona must hear Dominga sing." + +As she spoke, Blanche hurried forward and opened the piano with her +own hands. It was a fine instrument, which Mrs. Chandos had picked up +a bargain at some sale. Candles were lit, and there was a good deal of +bustle and chattering before Dominga trailed over in the new tea-gown, +and took her place at the instrument with an air of a prima donna. + +She played the introduction to Tosti's "Good-bye" with somewhat +uncertain fingers, and in another moment the room was ringing with +her voice. It was a powerful, elastic soprano, clear and strong, +and ill-taught. Undoubtedly a wonderful organ, but it had a strange +metallic ring--a native ring; the note of her great-grandmother, who +poured forth to the gods her shrill Marathi songs. Whilst Dominga sang, +her mother and three sisters sat wrapped in ecstasy. The ladies of the +family were unaffectedly proud of the performance, but Mr. Chandos and +Monty had disappeared out into the verandah, where they smoked together +in guilty company, for Dominga's gift did not appeal to them. + +"Well, you've never heard finer singing than that?" and Mrs. Chandos +turned to Verona with a challenge in her eye. + +"It is indeed marvellous," she assented, "and would, I think, make her +fortune if it were trained." + +"Trained? Why she has had lots of lessons at school, and practises +often an hour a day. I suppose"--with a little sniff--"your voice has +been what you call 'trained'?" + +"Yes, but mine has so little compass; it is very different from +Dominga's." + +"But you sing, of course?" said Blanche, who was now busily doing +the honours of her mother's house. "Dom, you get away from the +piano"--pulling her sister by the arm--"Verona will take your place." + +"Does not Dominga look splendid?" murmured her mother, gazing at her +in rapture as she stood up and looked towards them. "Oh, I have always +said she only wanted dress. Now you go and sing." + +"I feel so diffident about coming after you," said Verona, as she +approached the piano, "but they want to hear me." + +"Yes, and so do I; I daresay I have some of your songs," replied +Dominga, with an air of gracious patronage, and then turning aside, she +began to root among a quantity of tattered, old-fashioned music. + +A few songs that were clean and new, Dominga kept exclusively apart, +and on one of these Verona noticed that the name of "Dominga Chandos" +was inscribed in a bold masculine hand by someone named "Charlie." +Finally, failing to discover anything to suit her mezzo-soprano, she +sat down and sang from memory the "Sands of Dee." + +Verona had an exquisitely sweet, haunting voice; every note was clear +and full, and told. When she had removed her hands from the piano, +instead of applause, there ensued strange silence. Monty and his +father-in-law were standing inside the door and the face of the latter +was working with some irrepressible emotion. + +"Whatt a nice little song," exclaimed Mrs. Chandos. "Why," with a +sudden start, "here are the Cavalhos," as she descried two figures +mounting the steps. "Oh, my goodness, whatt a bother." + +"May we come in?" inquired a high, chirrupy treble, and without +waiting for a reply, an elderly woman, wearing a white dress and a +black apron, walked forward, followed by her husband, a very stout, +clean-shaven man with a round bullet head. They were both decidedly +dark, but had kind, good-tempered faces, and indeed, in Mistress +Cavalho's sweet dark eyes there lingered traces of a once renowned +beauty. + +"We heard Dominga singing," she announced, "so we knew you must have +the lamp lit in the drawing-room, and we came over in a friendly way +to see"--here she glanced incredulously at Verona--"is this your +daughter?" She pronounced it "da-ter." + +"Yes." + +"Oh, how do you do, Miss. I hope you will like Manora." + +"Thank you." + +"And here is Pedro, my husband, come to pay his respects." + +Pedro gave his stout body a little jerk--doubtless intended for a bow. + +"Now, pray do not let us stop the music," accepting a seat on the sofa +beside Mrs. Chandos. + +"Oh, my! Dominga, you do sing better and better; that last song, it +nearly killed me. We waited outside to listen; it sounded like an angel +who was shut up in some prison house and breaking her heart; I tell +you it squeezed my throat, and Pedro--oh, he gave one great sob." Here +Pedro, with a deprecatory grin, suddenly backed into the verandah and +the company of his host. + +"Oh, I never heard such singing," resumed his wife, with her eyes fixed +on Dominga, "my, my, whatt a gift! What pleasure to others." A moment's +pause, then, with a sudden laugh, Nicky burst out: + +"It was Verona," pointing with a rude forefinger, "Verona, who gave +your throat a squeeze, and made old Daddy sob." + +Once more there was a silence, this time of a truly painful +description. Dominga's face was livid; her mother's mouth was set, and +there was an angry sparkle in her eye. + +Then Verona, with extraordinary courage and presence of mind, threw +herself into the gulf and said: + +"It was the pretty air which affected you, Mrs. Cavalho; my voice is +very poor in comparison to my sister's." + +"Oh, thatt is true," assented her mother with feverish energy, "thatt +is quite true. It is no voice at all--and Dominga you can hear for a +mile." + +Poor Mrs. Cavalho was sincerely grateful for the explanation, being +secretly afraid of Dominga, whose expression had fully justified her +alarm; and as a proof of her gratitude to Verona, moved a little closer +to her mother, and laying a hand on hers, softly whispered: + +"Oh, my dear friend, whatt a lucky woman you are with your five +children around you--and we, that have not one--and this new da-ter, +like a queen, the most beautiful of all!" + +But Mrs. Chandos gave her chin a contemptuous tilt, shook off the kind, +little hand, and remarked in a querulous tone: + +"Oh, yes, she is all very well now; but when she has had a couple of +hot weathers, she will not be so wonderful, you will see." + +But to this melancholy prophecy good Mrs. Cavalho absolutely refused +to assent. Dominga, who had succeeded to the piano stool, now favoured +the company with two penetrating songs; then a servant appeared with a +tray on which was rum (factory rum), water, sweet syrup (home-made) and +biscuits--a signal that the entertainment was waning. + +The community at Manora were early risers, and the guests now began to +disperse. + +"Do look at grandmamma!" said Blanche as she rose, "she is sound +asleep; she does not care for music, only snake-charmers, and +tom-toms, and those whining bazaar tunes. Ayah and baby are already +in the gharry, and we must be going. Remember I expect you all to tea +to-morrow, especially Verona," and after a series of shrill good-byes, +parting injunctions, and smacking kisses, the Jones family were once +more packed into their hired conveyance, and rattled back to Rajahpore. + +"Aré, so they are gone," said Mrs. Lopez, sitting erect, and indulging +herself with a prodigious yawn; "that Monty is a stupid owl, and +Blanche is still so gay and grand. Well! Well! Well! You know the +saying, 'The cow does not find her own horns heavy.' Now I'm going away +to my bed." + + * * * * * + +In half-an-hour the whole family had retired, and a profound peace fell +upon the bungalow. Verona opened the glass door of her room and stole +out, and once more began to pace the path by the river bank. + +It was a perfect moonlight night, and oh, what a delightful change from +the noise and chatter of the day! The scene was beautiful, all the +landscape being outlined in silver; the everyday yellow plain across +the water had now a far-away, fairy-like effect. The silence was almost +death-like; the hideous cry of the hunting jackal, the scream of a +night hawk, disturbed the night--elsewhere, and the only sound to be +heard was the occasional flop of a belated fish. To Verona there was +something extraordinarily soothing and grateful in her surroundings, +although her head throbbed and ached, and she held her hands to her +forehead as she paced up and down. All at once she was aware of +something--a faint distant sound--what was it? The regular dip of oars +coming nearer and nearer; in two or three minutes a white boat rowed +by one man shot into sight. As it approached, she perceived that the +oarsman, whose curly head was bare, was a sahib, for the moon shone a +full dazzling light on his good-looking, determined face. When the boat +was almost opposite he leant for a moment on his oars and called over +to her: + +"Hullo! Miss Dominga, are you not afraid of the malaria at this time of +night?" As Verona made no reply he rowed a stroke nearer, stared hard +at her, and then exclaimed with apologetic haste: + +"Oh, I beg your pardon; I mistook you for Miss Chandos!" and without +another word rowed swiftly away. Verona watched his long, sweeping +strokes till he turned a bend in the river, and so was lost to sight. + +No doubt this was Dominga's lover; he had a pleasant voice, a fine +face, and a stalwart pair of arms. + +Dominga was unaccountably fortunate. + + + + + CHAPTER XVII + + +Whilst this genial family party was proceeding in Mr. Chandos' house, a +gathering of another description took place in the vicinity. + +"The big bungalow," as it was called, was large and luxurious; the +furniture modern and tasteful. Mrs. Lepell's frequent journeys to +England resulted in many pretty things, such as choice water-colours, +bits of quaint silver, fresh chintz covers; then there were soft +draperies and screens, books and flowers in profusion. + +After dinner three men sat smoking, sipping coffee in the verandah; +Mrs. Lepell, in a comfortable chair, and graceful tea-gown, was the +only woman present. Her husband, Tom Lepell, a hale man of sixty, had +been respected in India for five-and-thirty years; he was reputed to +be hard, but just; a stern master and a staunch friend, whose energies +were solely devoted to sugar and crops, to goor and rab. Then there +was his charming wife, bright and popular; his wife's nephew, Brian +Salwey, superintendent of police in the Rajahpore district. When at +headquarters, he frequently rowed up the river, and spent an evening +with his Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Tom. He had his own room, his own chair, +and kept a suit of evening dress-clothes at Manora, for he found favour +in the eyes of his well-to-do relations. + +Brian Salwey had a pair of steady grey eyes, his features were finely +cut, and their expression intelligent; his face was tanned to almost +the same shade as his curly locks, his mouth was firm, and his age +was thirty. Originally he was intended for the Army, but the idea had +been relinquished, and he thought himself exceedingly fortunate to +procure a nomination in the Indian police. The billet fitted him like +a glove, his profession interested him profoundly; like some young +police officers he was an enthusiast, and was one of those men who, +putting his hand to the plough, never looks back. Salwey was poor, but +well-educated, well born, but without social influence. + +Being considered a most able officer by the heads of his department, +he was naturally dispatched to quite the worst circle in the district. +Here he was extravagant in horseflesh and books; and Bazaar report +declared him to be in love with the Lal Billi (Red Cat); in other +words, Dominga Chandos. The fourth individual in the verandah was the +little officer to whom Verona had been introduced in Rajahpore station +refreshment room. + +"The Chandos' are all lit up, and having a grand party," remarked Mr. +Lepell. "There was a gharry at the door just now. Out here, we live in +our neighbours' pockets, you see." + +"I saw such a tragedy there to-day," observed his wife, sitting up and +leaning forward, "something that haunts me; a lovely girl"--here she +paused and sighed. + +"I've not the slightest objection to her haunting _me_," cried Major +Gale, with a snigger. "Pray go on." + +"I called on the Chandos family, or rather on the daughter from +England." + +"Oh, by-the-way, yes," interrupted Major Gale, with sudden animation, +"I saw her yesterday at the station with the old boy. He looked as +if he did not know what on earth to do with her! She is uncommonly +handsome, the profile of a cameo, the air of a duchess, and the +pride--may I say--of the devil." + +"Oh, poor girl," exclaimed Mrs. Lepell, with a little fluttering sigh, +"she had not seen her relations _then_." + +"No, I assume not," assented Major Gale, as he tossed away the end +of a cigarette. "I give you my word, she is as white as you are, Mrs. +Lepell." + +"That is no compliment, for she has a beautiful complexion," was her +generous reply, "and I have been twenty years grizzling in India." + +"Chandos looked hang-dog, and thoroughly ashamed of himself, as he +always does," resumed Major Gale. + +"An unfortunate man, I am always sorry for him," remarked Mr. Lepell, +speaking for the first time. "I happen to know his history." + +"Oh, really, do you?" ejaculated his guest, with the utmost +indifference, selecting, as he spoke, a fresh cigarette. + +"But what about the girl, Aunt Liz?" said her nephew suddenly, "is she +really own sister to my friend Dominga?" + +"I think so--indeed, what am I saying? Of course she is; she comes +between her and Pussy, and by all accounts is the flower of the flock; +adopted as an infant by an enormously rich woman--the schoolfellow of +Mrs. Lopez." + +"I cannot believe"--here he laughed--"that Mrs. Lopez ever went to +school." + +"Yes, she did, to Kidderpore. Mrs. Lopez was a beauty once, so was Mrs. +Chandos." + +"I don't admire beauties of that type." + +"Don't you?" exclaimed Mr. Lepell. "I've seen some lovely Nair women on +the West coast, handsomer you could not find; slim and graceful, with +wheaten coloured skins and perfect features." + +"But what about this young lady?" resumed his nephew. + +"Oh, she was brought up in England by this old Portuguese woman, who +died suddenly without a will. And there was nothing for this girl to do +but return to her own relations--whose existence she now discovers for +the first time!" + +"Well, I call it a tragedy," exclaimed Brian Salwey, "what do you say, +Aunt Liz?" + +"Yes, I went over to-day, expecting to see another edition of Dominga +with European veneer, and discovered a pretty, refined English girl, +who has no doubt been accustomed to her maid, her carriage, her French +milliner, and any quantity of admiration. She looked completely dazed +and bewildered; I found her sisters arrayed in her best frocks, while +she held in her arms, with a terrified expression, her black baby +nephew, Chandos Montagu Jones! As I let it be clearly understood that +my visit was to Miss Verona, she came and talked to me, and they all +sat round and gaped upon us with their mouths. Her manner was perfectly +lady-like and self-possessed, but once I caught her off her guard, and +if ever I saw horror or despair in any human eyes, it was in hers! I +suppose she had no idea she was a Eurasian, till yesterday, and will, I +am convinced, run away--or do something." + +"And can't _you_ do something, Aunt Liz?" urged Salwey. + +"I certainty will, if I can; but my position is extremely difficult; +I am obliged to hold myself aloof, and be friendly with none, +otherwise I should get sucked down into the raging whirlpool of Manora +politics. First, there is Mr. Chandos, sub-manager, a gentleman, +and of indisputably old English family. There are his people, all +dark Eurasians, with the exception of Dominga, her mother's idol, +whom I particularly dislike; she reminds me of a deadly mechanical +toy, harmless to look at, but ready to explode, unless handled most +delicately. Her craving for notoriety, admiration, and pleasure are +beyond all words." + +"Well, I must say, she is an uncommonly good-looking girl," exclaimed +Major Gale, with unexpected fervour. + +"Oh, yes--she is handsome, I admit. Then there are the Trotters," +continued Mrs. Lepell, "pure Europeans; they despise the Chandos for +their taint of native blood; the Chandos family look down on them, +as common people--they themselves being gentry. Then there are the +dear, good old Cavalhos, and the Watkins; if I show partiality to +one family, I make the others angry and envious. I should like to +befriend that poor girl, I know she is most unhappy and desolate, for +Mr. Chandos holds himself curiously aloof from his circle, and she has +not a creature of her own class to help or to comfort her. Imagine the +change, from the petted heiress to fifteen thousand a year, to becoming +the odd daughter out, in that _ménage_." + +"I've no doubt she wishes she were dead," exclaimed Major Gale. "I +should if I were in her shoes. Marianna in the Moated Grange was ten +times better off." + +"I believe Mother Chan, as they call her, was greatly averse to her +joining the family, and for once she showed her sense," remarked Mr. +Lepell. + +"Yes, but the miserable creature rushed on her fate," added his wife; +"she was craving to see her own people, and, above all--her mother." + +"Her mother!" repeated Major Gale, with his little cackling laugh. + +"And Mr. Chandos himself was urgent," continued the lady, "no doubt he +hoped for 'one fair daughter.'" + +"The fair daughter having arrived and seen her home, if I'm not +mistaken, will never forgive him for his _mésalliance_." + +"Poor Chandos," exclaimed Mr. Lepell, "all through his life he has +meant well, and done ill; he has made a mull of everything--career, +profession, marriage." + +"Ah," said Major Gale, standing up and straightening himself, "that is +the one pitfall I have eluded." + +"Thank you, Major Gale." + +"Oh, yes, with all respect to you, Mrs. Lepell, I am a timid man, +and there are too many blanks. It is not everyone who is so lucky as +Lepell, and draws a great prize." Here Major Gale nodded and smirked; +he was rather pleased with the manner in which he had turned this +delicate compliment. "There's early parade to-morrow, and I must +be off, Salwey," turning to the policeman, "can I give you a lift +back--you are on my road?" + +"Thank you, no; my road is by water. I like rowing myself to and fro +these moonlight nights." + +"Ah, see what it is to be young and romantic!" and having made his +polite adieus, the little Major effected a brisk departure. + + * * * * * + +"No need for _you_ to move yet, Brian," urged his aunt, "on such a +night as this; I hate the idea of going to bed; I prefer to sit, and +laze, and talk, and listen." + +"All right, then, I'll stop for half-an-hour. Oh, I say, Uncle Tom, +I'd like to hear something more about that chap Chandos. Is it not +extraordinary, a man of his class, and who has been in the Service, +settling down here for life, with a half-caste family, and working in +the sugar factory?" + +"It would seem a great deal more extraordinary, if you knew as much +about him as I do," rejoined Mr. Lepell, as he lit another cheroot, +crossed his legs, and evidently prepared for narration. + +"Why, Tom, I never dreamt that you knew his past," exclaimed his wife. +"How _close_ you have been all these years." + +"Oh, but I was never personally acquainted with him, I merely saw +him two or three times, but I heard the story. It made rather a stir +some eight-and-twenty years ago. He is not aware that I am behind +the scenes, and I've not been anything more to him than what you +see. In the first place, he would resent any intimacy based on such +reminiscences, and, secondly, his family are quite impossible; I'd far +rather have to do with the Cavalhos than the Chandos lot, with their +pretensions and struggling and greed." + +"But tell us more about Mr. Chandos," reiterated his nephew. "I bar the +family, too." + +"Well, you would never suppose, that that thin, worn man, with a +melancholy face and downcast air, was one of the cheeriest and +best-looking fellows in the Service, and mad about balls, and racing, +and sport. When I saw him win the Cup at Lucknow, what an ovation +he got! I little anticipated the hero of that day would become my +sub-manager, and that the irresistible Adonis, in a blue satin jacket, +would develop into a haggard, gaunt automaton, in patched khaki, whose +horizon is limited to cane fields, his topics to sacks and sugar mills, +goor and fuel. A man who calls me 'sir,' and touches his hat to me +daily." + +"Now I understand, Tom--why you overlook his irregularity, and----" + +Her husband interposed with a gesture of his hand. + +"This Manora has proved his harbour of refuge; here he has been +anchored for eighteen years, here he will remain, till the end of the +chapter. I mean _his_ chapter." + +"Unless the new daughter creates a revolution in the family," suggested +Salwey. + +"On the contrary, the family will alter her. You say," looking at his +wife, "that she is fair." + +"Yes, entirely a Chandos, and an aristocrat--a pure English girl." + +"No--no--nature takes care of that! She has her mother's blood in +her veins, her mother's example to drag her under; it will be a mere +question of--weeks." + +"No, not in this case, Tom," rejoined his wife with brisk decision. + +"Why not? My impression, after many years of life in India, is, the +fairer a Eurasian the darker their disposition. The duskier their +complexion, the whiter their hearts. For instance, compare Dominga to +Mrs. Cavalho; now _she_ is a good woman, and a true lady." + +"Pray, why should you be so prejudiced against this new Miss Chandos, +Tom? You have not even seen her; she will be a success--of that I am +convinced." + +"Nothing bearing that name has ever come in the way of poor Chandos, +nothing but bad luck; he seems to be under the influence of an evil +star." + +"Scorpio!" suggested his nephew, "in other words, his wife." + +"He is a capital sub-manager," resumed Mr. Lepell, "punctual +and orderly; has wonderful command over the employees; is a fine +disciplinarian, and speaks the language like a native. Latterly, his +health is bad." + +"And the reason of that, is easily understood," said Brian, looking at +his uncle with significance. + +"Yes, God help him! he takes opium; and I'm afraid the habit is gaining +on him; he flies to it, to kill the past--aye, and the present." + +"Well, you may think me a brute, but I must say, I don't pity Chandos +in the least; he brought all his woes on himself by marrying a +half-caste, a low-bred Eurasian, a money-lender's daughter." + +"He has to thank another for his misfortunes." + +"Has he?" echoed his wife, in a tone of incredulity. "Well, Tom, we are +both dying to hear the history of Mr. Chandos." + +"It must be eight-and-twenty years since Paul Chandos came out to +India"--a pause--"and has never been home since. He had good looks, +good health, good prospects, the younger son of an old family, and +seemingly endowed with every gift, but a long purse, and the power of +uttering the word, 'No.' By all accounts, he was full of the wildest +spirits, delighted with his first taste of freedom, and his first look +at the world; and the world out here was pleased with him. He was in a +smart cavalry regiment, among a nice lot of young fellows of his own +stamp--perhaps with a little more money than he had. Still he might +have managed to hold his own, and be a happy man now--only----" + +"For a woman," interposed Brian Salwey. + +"No--only for his own cousin. Sydney Chandos was many years older than +Paul. He was on the staff out here, and brilliantly clever. He had a +splendid figure, a wonderful pair of eyes, and charming smile, but +was utterly unscrupulous and base. Thanks to his brains, and manners +of extraordinary fascination, he managed to pass himself off as not +a bad sort; a bit casual, perhaps, and fond of racing and gambling. +And in those days, I can tell you, the gambling on the Indian turf +was something to make you sit up. Well, this fellow came down to Mhow +to spend his leave with his cousin Paul, who was devoted to him, and +looked up to Sydney as superhumanly wise and great and good. The poor +lad worshipped him slavishly, and thought his idol could do no wrong. +Paul, I should say, was an orphan, who had been brought up and educated +in his cousin's home. It was not long before he fell entirely under the +influence of Sydney, who got him into his power, body and soul. 'Burra' +Chandos had, it was whispered, ruined several young fellows, but people +expected that he would spare his own cousin." + +"And apparently he did not," remarked Mrs. Lepell. + +"No, he laughed at his scruples and economies, encouraged him to play +cards and gamble; he took him about to races and lotteries--he plunged +him into debt. Then he introduced him to the money-lenders." + +"Ah!" ejaculated Brian, "and that naturally _finished_ him?" + +"Your _bête noire_, eh, Brian?" said his aunt, "whom you hope to +finish!" + +"Yes," returned Mr. Lepell, "young Chandos backed his cousin's horses +and bills, went security for his debts, and got thoroughly entangled in +the web of Lopez, a notorious soucar of evil repute." + +"I cannot understand any young man, who is not an idiot, being so +completely under the thumb of a cousin!" + +"Ah, but you did not know that cousin, my dear sir; his cleverness +was something appalling; it was downright uncanny; his manners were +irresistible. He was a first-class horseman, a notable billiard player, +and he sang like an angel: to hear Sydney Chandos singing affecting +ballads after a big guest night, where he had been fleecing youngsters +and punishing the champagne, was enough to melt the heart of a stone! +His voice stood him in the place of an excellent moral character, and +he had the art of making you believe every word he said; in fact, his +very tones brought conviction. With all his advantages, he was one of +the worst young men who ever set foot in India. He was mixed up in a +sultry business about a race, but with his damnable art he contrived +to pass on the odium to his cousin--along with the greater portion of +his debts--and then went gaily home with a light heart, leaving his +wretched dupe to his fate! Much of this came out long afterwards, for +Chandos was dumb. He was dumb then, he is dumb now. It was suspected +in the regiment, that Paul had some secret drain on him; he had lost +his spirits and appeared to be struggling in a hopeless sea of debt; +he sold off all his ponies, he cut down his expenses, he even parted +with his watch and guns; in fact, he stripped himself bare, and yet the +mountain of debt never seemed to decrease; the interest rose up, and +up, and up like a spring tide!" + +"Of course; it always does," muttered Salwey. + +"He had sworn to his cousin to keep his bill-backing a dead secret; +he wrote to his uncle imploring assistance--this was sternly refused. +Sydney had his own story to tell of Paul's debt, and shortly afterwards +his father died. I believe the poor chap was contemplating suicide, +as the only way out of his difficulties, when, at a sergeant's ball, +he was presented to Miss Rosa Lopez. She was twenty years of age, the +belle of the evening--and by all accounts distractingly pretty." + +"That I decline to believe," declared Mrs. Lepell, with emphasis. + +"Well, you can please yourself, my dear," rejoined her husband, +"but she was handsome. Her complexion was a pale olive; her eyes, +teeth, hair, and figure, all most attractive; she danced like a +sylph, and fell madly in love with poor, unfortunate Chandos! He was +extraordinarily good-looking, and no doubt this desperate state of his +affairs, added a sort of haggard charm to his appearance. I understand +she waltzed with him half the night, and subsequently made all the +advances, daily throwing herself in his way, and writing him notes. He +was a reckless young fellow, and a chivalrous fool. He, it seemed, had +always been his aunt's good boy, and brought up under her influence; +this, which made him sensitive, quixotic, and truthful, had earned him +the secret ill-will and envy of his cousin. + +"By and by, it transpired that Rosa's father, Juan Lopez, was +unfortunately but too well known to Lieutenant Chandos. Miss Rosa was +an ambitious girl, strong-willed, passionate, and desperately in love +with the handsome young cavalry officer. Her father was easily enlisted +on her side, and was prevailed upon to make an offer to Rosa's lover. +He proposed to release Paul Chandos from his debts and bonds, provided +he made Rosa Lopez his wife. + +"At first, I am told, that Chandos indignantly refused, but every +day pressure became heavier and heavier--Rosa was so seductive +and so devoted. Chandos had taken no one into his confidence, his +debts and disgrace were not his--but another's. Vainly his brother +officers endeavoured to help him, but Chandos, the cheery and genial, +had become glum, secluded, and mute; and once or twice his friends +had been puzzled at seeing him driving in a brougham with a dark, +foreign-looking man; then, all at once the secret was out. He had +married the daughter of Lopez, the notorious money-lender--and Lopez +had cancelled his debts!" + +"Poor devil," muttered Salwey. + +"The regiment was furious, but this did not affect the happy pair, +who were spending the honeymoon in Cashmere. Of course, Chandos was +compelled to send in his papers, and within about twelve months +the police discovered a series of financial frauds, and Juan +Lopez was obliged to leave the country--that is to say, to fly to +Pondicherry--where he died. + +"'Chotah' Chandos was now minus a profession, and plus not only a +wife, but a mother-in-law. Another man would have bolted, and fled +to Australia; but he stood fast, and, for a time, lived in the hills, +on the sale of his commission; then, as his nursery increased, he was +forced to rouse from his apathy and look round for employment. After +being for some time on a Government stud farm, he eventually drifted +here; in fact, I heard of his plight and offered him the billet." + +"And what about his people at home?" inquired Mrs. Lepell. + +"His uncle and aunt were dead, and his other relations with one accord +washed their hands of him. When he married Rosa Lopez and left the +Service, he had figuratively cut his throat." + +"How does he put in his time?" inquired Salwey. "He has no associates, +for he never mixes with his equals, and shuns all soldier men like the +plague." + +"I think he reads a good deal, and he gardens a little, but I fancy +that his life is one long purgatory; he has nothing in common with his +household." + +"What an existence!" ejaculated the police officer; "perhaps the new +member will be a comfort to him?" + +"Cold comfort, I should say; but he may live on hope, for he is a +Chandos of Charne, and may possibly be a rich man some day. His cousin +is childless." + +"Do, pray, imagine Mrs. Chandos in England!" exclaimed Mrs. Lepell. +"How I should like to see her mixing in county society--mincing about +on her tip-toes, and conversing in high Chi-Chi, wouldn't you, Brian?" +turning towards her nephew, who sat with his cigar out, his hands +clasped behind his head and his eyes fixed on the distance. + +As he made no reply, his aunt continued: + +"My dear, you are in a brown study!" + +"If you mean that I am thinking of Mrs. Chandos--I am _not_." + +"Then a penny for your thoughts!" + +"I was thinking of that girl," he said, rising and stretching himself, +"an heiress in the beginning, a penniless Eurasian now. What will her +end be?" + +"Ask me that question in a year's time, and now, Brian, it is twelve +o'clock, your bark is on the tide, if you don't go soon, your bearer +will be paddling up here to know what has become of you?" + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII + + +Verona was now painfully conscious that she could no longer harbour +illusions, and had begun to realise her situation, her relations and +her home. Her home, large, dark, straggling, with an atmosphere close +and airless, the handsome furniture, picked up at auctions--dead +bargains, surrounded by a deep verandah and a bushy garden, full of old +apricots, cork trees, dried-up water channels, straggling rose bushes, +beds of tomatoes and a few sickly orange trees. + +She understood and conformed to the daily routine of the household. +There was the scrambling breakfast at nine o'clock, at which neither +her father nor grandmother appeared. The latter partook of coffee and +"hoppers" in the seclusion of her own quarters, and busied herself +with the feeding of fine buff fowl, making coffee and condiments, and +giving audience and medicine to numbers of native visitors, chiefly +the sick and afflicted. Dominga, her red mane in two thick plaits, +wearing a dressing-gown and slippers, practised her songs, knitted +ties, wrote letters, or lay on her bed, devouring novels and bazaar +sweetmeats--such as paras and jalabies--having commandeered the sole +punkah coolie. + +Pussy and Nicky were unaffectedly idle, but Mrs. Chandos, on the +other hand, was feverishly busy, whisking in and out of the rooms, +herding the servants here and there, scolding every one in her high, +far-reaching falsetto. Twelve o'clock was the orthodox visiting hour, +and three days after Verona's arrival it brought Mrs. Trotter, Miss +Lizzie Trotter, Miss Georgina Louisa Trotter in all their best clothes, +to make a formal call. Mrs. Trotter, a worthy, hard-working woman, who +always declared that "she knew her place and kept to it," had a round, +flat face, resembling a bread platter, the idea being well carried out +by a toque in tussore silk. + +She was obviously abashed on her first introduction to the new Miss +Chandos, and stared at her with genuine surprise, but Susan Trotter +very soon rallied and found her tongue, and taking a good grip of her +self-possession, began: + +"You and I, Verona----" + +Verona started. + +"----have more in common than all the other members of your family--as +we have both been in England; I," she bridled, "of course was born +there," and she looked round the room. "You," to Verona, "were born out +here--whereabouts?" + +Verona glanced at her mother interrogatively. + +"Oh--in Murree," she answered sharply, then exclaimed: + +"My! whatt a long time since Mrs. Trotter has been in England; she will +not know it as you do, Verona. Twenty-five years, is it not?" + +"Yes," assented Mrs. Trotter with obvious reluctance. + +"So Lizzie was born at home? And that makes her at least twenty-seven," +and Mrs. Chandos closed her eyes, as much as to say "I have scored." + +"Lizzie is twenty-six next birthday; she looks just as young as +Dominga, but that is because she is English." + +"I suppose you were awfully gay in England?" said Lizzie, now +addressing Verona for the first time. + +"Yes, but we lived chiefly abroad," replied Verona. + +"And in grand, smart society," announced Mrs. Chandos; "princes and +dukes and all that sort of thing." + +"There is not much of that sort of thing out here; you will only know +the railway people, and contractors and such like," remarked Mrs. +Trotter. "I suppose London is a good deal changed since I was there; I +remember going in the Underground and thinking it so wonderful." + +"That is an old story now," rejoined Verona with a smile; "there is the +Tube." + +"And the Crystal Palace and Madame Trousseaux's" (she meant Tussaud's), +"with the murderers in the basement. What a sight!--Oh!" with a start, +"here is Mrs. Watkin; I thought she was coming, for I saw her ayah +shaking out her best dress--so now I will go, as at present we do not +speak." + +Enter Mrs. Watkin, a young woman, pale, very stiff, and smartly +dressed. She stared at Verona with cold inquisitive eyes, and chiefly +confined her conversation to the climate. The lady was--as Pussy +had hinted, "stuck up," but although there was some conversation +with respect to flowers, she had no opportunity to introduce the two +gardeners. + +A proper sequel to these morning calls was a visit to Blanche in the +afternoon. Mrs. Chandos excused herself, but Verona and Pussy started +off in the victoria to spend a happy afternoon in Rajahpore! + +The residence of Mrs. Montagu-Jones was a trim little red brick +bungalow, with a shallow verandah, covered with purple railway creeper. +Everything looked precisely as it was--or had been--cheap; everywhere +was evident, audacious apings at style and at fashion; everywhere the +ugly adjective "makeshift" obtruded itself with heartless prominence. +There were scrimpy cretonne curtains in the windows; sixpenny fans and +brackets on the walls; unreliable flounced cane chairs, a gaudy Europe +carpet and many rickety tables crowded the drawing-room. + +Quite a number of guests had been specially invited to meet Miss Verona +Chandos at tea, and ladies connected with the railway, commissariat and +telegraph departments were well to the fore; smart, dark young men, +slender and effusive; gaily dressed women, their faces covered with +powder and reeking of sickly scents. + +As Verona looked round the company she asked herself what she would +have thought of this society a year ago? Of Mrs. De Castros, in a black +crêpe hat trimmed with poppies, who drank loudly from her saucer, +and put her tongue out at a friend; of Mistress Thomas, elaborately +painted, wearing a very low white gown and a transparent blouse; of +young Braganza Brown, the beau of the party, in a florid waistcoat +with silver buttons, and a pink satin tie, scented and oiled like some +ancient Roman dandy. Pussy was undoubtedly in her element, and giggled +and talked incessantly, for she was a social favourite. + +"Fie! For shame! Pussee, whatt a noise you are making," expostulated +Blanche. "Do be quiet." + +"Oh, Pussy," cried a girl, leaning over and addressing herself to her, +"Dom is too grand to look at me now; she is always in the station; they +say she will marry an officer. Whatt do you think?" + +"Aré Bap! don't ask me," cried Pussy; "ask Dom." + +"But I dare not. I hear Dom will sing at the concert," resumed the +girl; "we shall all go and hear her, and pay eight annas. Whatt a +voice; where _did_ she get it? where does she keep it?" + +"But I do not like it," interposed Ada Diaz; "it is so big, it hurts my +head; and tell us, Pussy, who is the little officer so awfully in love +with Dom?" + +"I believe it is quite a case!" added another uneasily. + +"Oh, I don't know," said Pussy, helping herself to sweets. "There is +often some one in love with her, but she is so hard to please; she has +such grand notions." + +On the other hand Blanche was saying: + +"Mother has so many engagements; she is going to buy another horse; one +was enough for _me_, but she never grudges anything for Dominga; every +one knows thatt. Now, Verona, do you come along; we are going to the +railway tennis ground, and Mr. Bott wants you to play with him." + +Mr. Bott, a stout dark man, was the chief guest--and perfectly alive +to his own importance. As Blanche pulled her sister's sleeve, she +whispered, with a smothered giggle: + +"Five hundred rupees a month! He is baby's godfather, but you may marry +him if you like!" and she pushed Verona before her. + +What an afternoon it had been--of pretension and make-believe, of civil +speeches and staring eyes, of long whispers and sidelong looks, and of +warm invitations, and strokings and flattery and painfully sustained +effort. + +Verona was thankful when she and Pussy were at last ushered to the +overworked victoria and driven home along the flat, white road to the +sequestered bungalow in Manora; which now appeared to the miserable +pleasure-goer a veritable harbour of refuge. + +The morning succeeding this dissipation, found Verona lying on her +bed racked with a headache and fever; she was unable to rise, and lay +prone, fervently hoping that she was going to be very ill and die. In +the midst of these miserable reflections, Pussy burst in to announce: + +"Rona, this is Sunday; we cannot all fit into the victoria, but you and +Dominga and mother must go to the cantonment church; there is a grand +parade--you will see the officers!" + +"I cannot stir," protested Verona; "my head aches so dreadfully." + +"Ah," coming over and taking her hand, "so you have fever. Now I wonder +how you got thatt?" (By midnight rambling on the river banks when the +air was full of mist and malaria.) + +For two long days Verona remained in her room, her head burning, +her bones racked with pain. She was driven nearly distraught by +affectionate Pussy's well-meant attendance and tireless chatter, by +Dominga, who sat upon the bed and poured forth a stream of questions +(questions respecting dress, deportment, hair-dressing, letter-writing, +and the manners and customs of society at home); by Nicky, whose +carpentering was close at hand, and by the ceaseless barking of the +Trotters' pariah. + +On the third night she got up--finding herself alone--put on a +dressing-gown and slippers, and staggered about the room; then she +tottered out to contemplate the river. + +Oh, how cool it looked! And she was burning--her veins ran fire. How +delightful to slip into it, and thus end her life; she was useless now +to herself--or any one. From her former existence she was separated by +a great gulf; her new existence was intolerable. To her relations she +was an encumbrance, and to her they were a nightmare. + +She stole further and stared about her. There was the light in the +office window; between it and her a stooping head. The recent rains had +filled the Jurra to its brim. As it flowed past muttering to itself +in the moonlight it looked most enticing. The river spirit seemed to +whisper in her ear with seductive, rippling murmur: + +"Come with me! Come with me!" + +Only a little choking feeling and all would be over! Drowning, people +said, was such an easy death. "Why wait?" urged the rippling river; in +two minutes from this very time, she might be elsewhere, safely landed +on the other shore. She must cross the River of Death sometime--why +not now? It would not be wrong; on the contrary, it would be a blessed +relief to every one, including herself. Oh, why should people speak of +suicide with bated breath and horror? + +"Oh, it is not wrong," she said aloud; "God knows all. He will forgive +me. God pardon me and give me rest," she exclaimed, and raising her +arms, she stepped down to the water's brink; suddenly a boat shot up +close to the steps, a white figure rose before her, a firm, peremptory +hand was laid on her wrist. + +"Surely you would not bathe at this hour?" remonstrated a man's voice. + +She drew a long, shuddering breath and moaned: + +"Oh, let me go! Let me go!" + +"Are you not afraid of the crocodiles?" he asked. + +"Crocodiles," she stammered, and began to laugh; "crocodile, no, it's +in my dressing bag!" + +"You must go back to the house at once, and promise to remain there," +continued the stranger authoritatively. "Your arm is burning--you have +fever." + +"But, who are you?" she asked; "are you the Angel of Death? Is this +the boat to take me over? Oh, I am so thankful you have come," and she +gazed into his face, her eyes ablaze with fever. "Oh, Angel of Death, I +am not afraid; let us go," and she prepared to enter the boat. "Let us +go now." + +"No, no, no!" protested Salwey, in a voice so persuasive and gentle +as to sound like that of another person. "I cannot take you over this +time; the current is too strong." + +"Oh, do, please; I cannot stay. Oh! I cannot wait!" and she wept and +wrung her hands with a gesture of frantic despair. "Well, then I must +go alone," and as she spoke, she thrust him aside with all her feeble +might. + +It was not often that Brian Salwey found himself in such a +dilemma--although it was by no means the first time that he had +indirectly represented the Angel of Death. If he left this distracted +girl in order to seek for assistance she would drown herself without +a doubt. After considerable delay and many solemn and astounding lies +he induced her to believe that he truly was the Angel Azrael and would +return for her, without fail, on the following evening. Having made +this soothing and mendacious promise he "charmed so wisely" that he +prevailed upon Verona to re-enter her room. He then fastened the door +outside, in a makeshift fashion, with his handkerchief and necktie, and +ran at the top of his speed in order to summon his aunt. + + + + + CHAPTER XIX + + +Mrs. Lepell was about to retire for the night when her nephew, almost +breathless, dashed into the verandah. + +"Oh, what is it?" she asked, "Dacoits, or fire?" + +"It is that girl, Aunt Liz, Miss Chandos, she was going to throw +herself into the river; you were quite right when you said she would do +something. As I was going home, I noticed her on the bank carrying on +in a rum sort of way, and tossing her arms about. So I rowed up pretty +close, and was just in time to stop her from jumping into the water. +I have persuaded her to return to her room, on the sole understanding +that I am the Angel of Death, and am coming to fetch her to-morrow. I +want you to hurry over at once--this moment--and get someone to look +after her." + +"Why, of course, I'll go myself." + +In another moment Mrs. Lepell was calling for her cloak and shoes, and +she and her nephew were running--followed by an ayah and a peon--in the +direction of Chandos Koti. + + * * * * * + +A visit from Mrs. Lepell at twelve o'clock at night! Was the world +coming to an end? + +Mrs. Chandos appeared fully dressed, alert, and lamp in hand, to be +informed that her daughter Verona had been wandering on the river bank +in a high fever, quite off her head! + +"Oh, Madre di Dios! Whatt a trouble that girl does give," and she put +down the lamp and threw up her hands, "whatt a bother! and trouble." + +"You should see to her at once, there is not a moment to be lost," +urged Mrs. Lepell, "or shall I go?" + +"No; oh, I will go, you wait here." + +Presently Mrs. Chandos returned and calmly announced to the couple in +the verandah that "it was arl-right, Verona could come to no harm, for +she lay on the floor in a dead faint." + +"Shall I go into Rajahpore for the doctor," suggested young Salwey. + +Mrs. Chandos looked at him quickly--one swift glance of irrepressible +hate. + +"No, no, no!" she replied, "my mother knows all the fever cures, it is +only that the girl is out from home, and not accustomed to the climate. +It is nothing but the bad season and the rains. In a few days she will +be arl-right. Thank you so much. Good-night," and with a wave of her +lantern, and an abrupt nod, the two good Samaritans found themselves +somewhat cavalierly dismissed. + +In spite of her mother's cheering diagnosis, for days Verona lay at +the point of death; indeed, she certainly would have died, but for +the valuable offices of old Mrs. Lopez, who thrust Mrs. Chandos and +her daughters out of the sick room, and took the duties of nurse upon +herself. + +What a pitiful object the poor girl looked, with her sunken cheeks, +lips cracked with fever, and cumbersome masses of dark hair. Now she +moved her head from side to side, beating her burning hands upon the +counterpane, muttering and moaning--often in a foreign tongue. + +It was some time before the concoctions of her grandmother brought +Verona round--these were simples of her own manufacture, and in the +end proved efficacious. The good woman imported her charpoy into a +corner of Verona's room, and scarcely left her patient night and day. +In fierce and fluent Hindustani she kept the entire family at bay, and +by and by, having no other company, Verona came to know and love her +unwieldy, old, half-caste "Nani." As she lay there convalescent in the +dim light, Mrs. Lopez unfolded to her ear many a curious Indian tale; +but occasionally the conversation was of a more personal description. + +"Of course, I know you are not content," said Nani, "for it is all so +strange now, but you are young, and you will be gay enough yet. Fill +your life with good deeds, and that will make you happy. Once upon +a time I, too, was miserable; now, I am so busy with other folks' +troubles, I have no time to think of my own; when I was young, I was +married to Lopez, the money-lender. I was very pretty. Oh, you will +laugh, but it was true! I had yards of red hair like Dominga, and good +eyes. Then when I grew fat and ugly, Lopez no longer cared for me; all +his thought was of money--money--money--always. He used to lend to +the young officers, and the Zemindars, and the bazaar people. But he +was never satisfied with what he got--and he got much--he was always +reaching--reaching--reaching after more. Rosa, your mother, would be +like him, if she had the rupees; oh, she is so fond of accounts and +business. Lily, my other girl, was quite different--but she is dead. +Ah! that was my great sorrow. Sometimes, when I looked at you lying +there, so seek, with your black hair, thin hands, and white face, I +could have thought it was my own poor Lily. I think that is why I talk +to you, and--tell you things. Lily was very soft and gentle, not clever +and quick like your mother, who always knows what she wants--and _will_ +get it. She says I am too friendly with native people, and the ayah, +but, why not? They are all flesh and blood, and some of them are _so_ +good." + +"Yes," assented her listener, languidly, "are they?" + +"Now, there is the ayah, for instance, Zorah; she had a husband, and +slaved hard for him, and had beautiful gold jewels, and brass cooking +pots, and money, for she was always working, working, working. Then she +went to England, with a lady, for two or three months, and when she +came back--now, what do you think? That good-for-nothing man had run +away with all her things, and married another wife! and so she had to +begin life over again. She is old now, and very poor indeed; all she +had in the world was a silver chain. A niece of hers was ill-treated +by her husband's family--because she had no children, so they beat +her, and starved her--and made her a slave. And Zorah sold her silver +chain, and went and brought her here from a long way off, a journey +costing twenty rupees, and keeps her; and all she has is five rupees a +month--now, would you or I do that?" + +"I expect _you_ would, grandmother." + +"You, too, if you had the money; you have the generous eyes. I am +sorry you gave your gold to Abdul Buk; I do not trust him, but in your +mother's opinion he is great and wise; she and I sometimes do not like +the same people. For instance, I like Salwey, the police officer; he +is a just man, and lives a good life; he is kind to Nicky and takes +notice of that poor boy; but your mother hates him more than anyone in +the whole world, I think. She says he is her enemy. I cannot understand +that. But if that is true, 'Better a wise enemy, than a foolish +friend,' is it not so?" + +"But why is he her enemy?" + +"Ah, I cannot tell you. It must be a secret between her and him. I +know that some of the city people have an ill-will to Salwey--he +lives among foes, like a tongue among teeth." Just at this moment the +door was dashed violently open, and Mrs. Chandos, followed by Dominga +and Nicky, entered the room without ceremony. "There has been a +robbery," announced Mrs. Chandos, who was evidently in a condition of +extraordinary excitement. + +"Not of fowl?" cried Mrs. Lopez, struggling to her feet. + +"No," burst in Nicky, "all Verona's things--her jewellery, I mean." + +"Now why you come telling these tales now, while the poor girl is so +seek?" cried her grandmother, "go away, all of you--go away." + +"Oh, but I must tell her!" said Mrs. Chandos, turning to Verona, "I +locked up that bag, you know, in the press in the Dufta. Just now +I go; the lock is not broken, but the top is off the press--and the +jewellery is stolen out of the bag." + +"All?" + +"Well, the gold watch and chain, the bangles and rings, and the +beautiful necklace. Oh! my! my! my!" and she put her hands to her head. +"What villains people are! Whatt wickedness! Whatt shall I do?" + +"Send for the police," suggested Verona, in a weak whisper. + +"Pah! the police!" cried Mrs. Chandos, "they are torturers and +murderers--if you wait for them you will never see your things. They +come--they walk about--they stare, then they take away the servants; +they pull the men's beards, they pinch the women, they make all to eat +sweetmeats, which cause awful thirst, and give no water, till they +confess--lies. Che-a-ah! the police!" and she paused breathless. + +"Then get a magic wallah," suggested Nani, "they are clever and good, +and give no trouble." + +"The police are very sharp now," urged Nicky, "they have discovered +lots of things, thanks to Salwey. Why not have Salwey up? I will go and +fetch him!" + +"Salwey!" screamed his mother, "who asks your advice?--and the milk +not dry on your lips. Send for Salwey"--and she looked around her +fiercely--"I would just as soon send for the devil!" and with this +formidable announcement, she quitted the room. + + + + + CHAPTER XX + + +The rains were unusually late, and continued unabated till to the end +of September, with brief intervals of steamy heat. It was owing to this +circumstance that the "new Miss Chandos," as she was called, was such +a long time recovering her strength: in spite of her grandmother's +unflagging attendance, she appeared to have arrived at a certain +point of convalescence and there stuck fast. Sickness had brought an +obliteration of her troubles, but she was still sunk in a gulf of +weakness. + +Mrs. Lopez plied her with her most potent remedies (she was acquainted +with some of the subtle herbs and invaluable native secrets unknown +to the European pharmacopœia), and several of her hitherto infallible +charms, without any obvious result. The truth was that the old woman +had to contend with the young girl's will--Verona had no desire to +recover. One afternoon as she lay in a sort of apathetic languor, +listening to the rain streaming down the gutters, pouring on the stone +verandah and beating on the big banana leaves with a steady "Drum, +drum, drum," her Nani entered a little wet and out of breath, carrying +some small object in her hand. + +"Aré! Bai! see what I have got for thee! a baby squirrel to keep thee +company. We found him just now, washed out of the nest; all his sisters +and brothers are drowned, but the life is yet in him." + +As she spoke Nani unfolded a morsel of red flannel and proudly +displayed a half-drowned squirrel (it looked like the proverbial rat). +She was about to hand it to Verona, who drew back with an instinctive +shudder, but when two little black eyes, full of terror, met her own, +she took the creature and proceeded to dry it very gently, and then +cover up the small, shivering body. + +"Oh, ho! we will call him 'Johnny,' and make him a pet," announced +Nani, who presently fetched a bit of sponge and some warm milk +and proceeded to feed him. She was wonderfully expert in rearing +nondescript orphans, such as kids, kittens and young parrots. + +Warmed and fed, Johnny crept up the sleeve of Verona's flannel jacket, +and there slept the sleep of exhausted infancy. For the first day or +two he was weakly and timid, and whenever he was startled immediately +sought refuge up Verona's sleeve! But he throve; he was promoted from +a bit of sponge to an egg-spoon and a morsel of rice, and in a short +time Johnny began to realise himself, to flit about the room, to dress +his fur and to take an interest in his personal appearance! And Johnny +gave Verona something to think of, and attract her thoughts outwards; +he did her ten times more good than her grandmother's most warranted +charm. She and Johnny had something in common; and when she felt the +forlorn little animal trembling in her sleeve, she recognised that here +was a fellow sufferer, who, like herself, was despairing and desolate +in the midst of unfamiliar surroundings. Verona and Johnny became fast +friends; at the sound of her call he would dart to her side, no matter +how absorbing his occupation. He was seeing the great big world for the +first time from the splendid vantage ground of a back verandah! + +Nani--as already mentioned--slept in her granddaughter's room. She +also not infrequently took her meals there, and her manner of eating +was a complete revelation to the beholder, who never wearied of the +spectacle. Nani loved curry and rice--oh, such curry and rice as +never was tasted on sea or shore in the Western hemisphere! The meal +was served in two bowls--the curry, consisting of pieces of meat or +fowl, thick rich yellow gravy, charged with all manner of spices and +condiments, _so_ hot. Verona once ventured to taste a mouthful, and the +result was a gasping, a spluttering, and several irrepressible tears. +For here was the real true and only curry (no English make-believe), +but such as was eaten by the natives on the West Coast. One bowl +contained the notable comestible, and the other was filled with flaky +rice. Into the curry Mrs. Lopez plunged a plump and eager hand, seized +a morsel, then she dipped the same hand into the rice; in a moment it +became a neat and shapely ball; the next instant it had disappeared for +ever in her mouth. + +Nani continued the process until both bowls were empty, not a trace of +curry or even a grain of rice remained. It was all assimilated with +extraordinary dexterity and despatch. When the meal had ended and the +bowls had been removed, Nani would declare: + +"After such food one can seat oneself like a king! Now, that is how we +are intended to eat; it is the best way, and see, I make no mess--no +more than you and your bread and butter. I can use a knife and fork as +well as any one, but the fingers are best. Wash them, and there is no +trouble. Some day you will like it too, child." + +But Verona only shook her head and smiled incredulously. + +"How old are you, Nani?" she asked. + +"Not so old as you think--about sixty-three, and how life flies. 'It is +as a swift horse passing a crevice,' so says the proverb. It seems but +yesterday, and I was young." + +"You must have seen some strange things, Nani." + +"Oh, yess; thatt is so," assented Mrs. Lopez, with gentle deliberation. + +"What sort of things--do tell me?" + +"Well, I have seen an enchanted well; this is true, true, true. No +matter how the water failed, it was always full. When the rains came it +remained just as before--never overflowed, the water always stopping +in the same place. All the learned people see it and marvel. I have +also seen a Mahommedan missionary preaching in the city to a crowd +of English soldiers; also I have seen strange people in the bazaar +too--Europeans who became natives, and forgot their own speech and +country." + +"Oh, Nani--no!" + +"Yes, it is true, especially in the old days. Some went into the bazaar +and they never came out. I remember one--oh, such a fine, straight, +strong man; he was a tent lascar and Mahommedan, at seven rupees a +month. People thought he was a Punjaubi--he was so fair--but I knew he +was an Englishman by his eyes. He came from a place called York-shire. +He had a pretty wife--a lascar's daughter. He was happy. Oh, yess." + +"Do you remember the Mutiny, Nani?" + +"Why not, when I was twenty years of age, and married? We were in +Bombay, then." + +"And you saw nothing of it?" + +"Truly I did, child; for four months after the massacre, I, who speak +to you, stood within the Bee-Bee Ghur itself." + +"What was that?" + +"Whatt! You not know? the ladies' house in Cawnpore, the bungalow where +the butchers cut them to pieces." + +"Why were you there, Nani?" + +"Child, you may ask! Lopez had business up country; in those days he +took me about, for he was proud of me. He stopped at Cawnpore--he had +an agent there, and he wanted to see the bungalow, 'the ladies' house', +where two of his own cousins were there murdered. Oh, yess, and so we +went; such a common old shabby place--just two large rooms. We went +in--many were there too, talking in whispers. The walls--oh, I wept +when I looked--they were covered with writing, prayers and bits of +hymns and loving messages and good-byes and names. Yes, the walls were +white once; but oh, Bapré Bap! such awful splashes, and high up in one +place, the full mark of a great red hand; and the floor--though all +washed, looked black. The room seemed damp and full of horrors and fear +and death. Oh no, no, I could not stay, like Lopez! No! no! no! in two +minutes I had run out, and there before me was the well. Yes, they were +all down there, and the top was bricked over. I could scarcely see for +crying, but I hid away behind a little wall and fell down. Oh, I could +not help it, and prayed for those souls, so cruelly, cruelly put to +death. My child, I did not get over that day for long years; it haunts +me now. As I speak to you, I can see it, and staring out at me from the +wall, the--hand--the--butcher's hand!" + +"Oh, Nani--don't!" protested her listener. "I can almost see it too!" + +"Well, we will not talk of that time any more, for in my veins I have +both the blood of those who killed at Cawnpore, and those who blew them +from the guns. My grandfather was an English officer, and we--we will +say no more. Let there be peace. Let us try and forget--and for a sick +child such talk is not good." Nani paused and remained silent for some +time. Then she said abruptly: + +"But see, here is the crystal!" + +As she uttered the word "crystal," she drew from some mysterious +receptacle an article resembling a glass paperweight. + +"Now I will tell your fortune!" + +"What is the use, Nani? It is told," protested Verona, wearily. + +"What nonsense, child!" looking at her sharply; "the best part of your +life is to come." + +Her granddaughter gave a faint, incredulous laugh. + +"No, do not speak one word. I must look and be quiet for an hour. I +have to fix my mind." + +Verona, thus silenced, summoned Johnny to play with her. He was a +pretty little fellow, the ordinary verandah squirrel of India--grey, +with a broad brown stripe down his back. He came at once, and sat on +the table beside her, and trimmed his whiskers. Presently he crept +into his old quarters--her sleeve--where he lay motionless for a long +time; perhaps he knew that the fate of his beloved lady was at that +particular moment trembling in the balance; perhaps he was merely +sleepy, being still a baby. + +"Aré! Aré! whatt this is arl about I cannot say," proclaimed Nani after +an hour's silent contemplation. "I have seen strange things, child, +and a change that is coming to you--not death, not marriage. You look +at me--I see your face, and it smiles and--fades. No, no, no; it is of +no use! Yet this is a lucky day, and the omens are good. I met this +morning first thing, Mrs. Trotter--a mother of sons--what could be +better?" + +"Never mind, Nani--I have no luck." + +"Well, you have something--I cannot understand; a veil hangs over your +future. Now with Dom it is so easy, and Dom believes in the ink-pool of +the crystal." + +"Does she?" + +"To her you see it tells of a great uplifting--she stands with a light +around her. This may mean one of two things--a place above others, or +a violent death. Dom is a strange creature--she has strange blood in +her veins. She is all for herself. Only you notice, Dom will say: 'So +and so, he likes me'; 'there's So and so, she adores me'; but never 'I +like this one, or that one.' Dom likes only Dom," and Nani nodded with +melancholy emphasis. + +"She has a handsome, witch-like face, and such a clever head--but of +whatt use here, I say to myself. What avails a mirror to a blind man? +She can never go beyond Manora--no? She will marry into the railway, +like Blanche, for all her cravings." + +"Nani, I wonder why my father ever came here?" + +"Because he had no choice, child." + +"You remember him as a young man?" + +"Why, of course. I remember as yesterday when I saw him. Oh, so +handsome and straight, and fair--who would think it now? And Rosa, she +was dying for him. Oh, she _would_ have him! What she wills ever comes +to pass. It were better she had never seen him. It is not always lucky +to have one's wishes granted--and the omens were bad. His cousin's +debts chained him here, but his heart was in Europe. All his thoughts +are there still--he changeth not. You know the proverb--'Bury a dog's +tail for twenty years, it will still be crooked.'" + +"Why is he always so sad--and silent, Nani?" + +"I know not the very truth, but often have I said to him: + + 'Gaiety is the support of the body, + But sadness makes it to grow old.' + +You too are sad, always, child. Why is it so? Come, now tell your old +Nani?" + +Verona made no reply, but hid her face in her hands, and shuddered +convulsively from time to time. Johnny, vaguely alarmed, ran down her +sleeve, peeped out and fled; but not a moment too soon--for the second +time in his short life he had escaped a deluge! On this occasion--of +tears. Bodily weakness, weariness, misery caused this sudden outbreak, +to the amazement and alarm of Nani; and despite her expostulations and +ejaculations, Verona wept till she sank into a sort of stupor, and so +passed into the land of dreams. + + + + + CHAPTER XXI + + +We have seen how Verona was affected by her relations, it now remains +to exhibit the other side of the shield and to describe her relations, +and how they were affected by Verona. + +First of all, Paul Chandos, her father. To him her society--little +as he appeared to appreciate it--was a pure and unalloyed delight. +During many years he had acquired the habit of silence, and although +sufficiently fluent in the factory, at home he was a dumb man; whilst +Verona was pained and mortified by his still tongue, on his side (as +he gave her his wistful yet stealthy attention) he was conscious of +inexpressible happiness. Here beside him sat the embodiment of his +lost youth, lost ideals, aye, and it might have been his lost love! +The sound of the girl's high-bred accent, the delicate shape of her +face, her air of repose and refinement, recalled the tender grace of +a day that was dead, and the sound of a voice that was still. Still, +as far as he was concerned--never whilst he lived would it again fall +on his ears. Nevertheless, he kept, from sheer force of habit, all +this enjoyment to himself, and his pale, unhappy daughter had not the +faintest reason to suppose that for him, she had momentarily swung back +the gates of the Elysian fields. When Paul Chandos had realised his +cousin's infamy, and beheld him as he was--a cruel, base, unprincipled +wretch--the result was a shock, which morally stunned him for the +remainder of his days. On the altar, before his cousin Sydney, he had +laid all that was best in his disposition--Faith, Hope, Charity--but a +fire had ascended and reduced his offering to ashes. The horror of this +experience had almost turned his brain. + +As soon as Sydney had succeeded his father in the family estates, Paul +had written him a letter, indited, so to speak, in his heart's blood--a +letter reminding him of debts, dues, and of solemn vows, and imploring +him, for the sake of his dead mother, to extend a hand and draw him +out of the pit of despair--a pit into which Sydney had plunged him. To +this, Captain Chandos (late Blue Light Lancers), D.L., of Charne Hall, +Flatshire and Charlton Terrace, replied: + + "SIR,--You have disgraced your family by your abominable + marriage--we look upon you as dead. Further communications will be + destroyed unread. + + "Yours faithfully, + "S. CHANDOS." + +Thus Paul had sacrificed himself to pay his cousin's debts--and +especially one old debt, not entered in any ledger--the debt of +jealousy. The late Mrs. Chandos had been passionately attached to her +orphan nephew; he was her darling, and she had "understood" her son. + +At one time, the unhappy victim had contemplated making a desperate +effort for release, of going home (steerage) and appealing to his +relations--and the law. + +"But of what use?" urged despair. "The debts were in his own name--the +rope was round his neck; his hands were bound--it was exile for life." + +The unfortunate man gradually realised that he had no choice but to +settle down and make the best of his lot. By degrees he had grown +terribly apathetic, and, also, he had become bitterly ashamed of his +family. Nevertheless, he toiled for them incessantly, like an ox in +a sugar mill, but now and then human nature asserted itself, and the +miserable automaton felt that he must have some relief--or succumb. +He was not a human being, but a mechanism under a pith helmet. Paul +Chandos found his sole consolation in dreams. Occasionally he read +in the papers the names of former associates, his school-fellows and +brother officers. Oh, how he envied them! One was a famous soldier, +another a diplomatist, a third a writer--and what was he?--a worm, +and no man. With abject horror he shrank instinctively from whatever +recalled his former profession; he never entered the cantonment, and +the chance sound of a gun, the sight of a mounted officer clanking +by, was like the sudden pressure on some aching nerve. With respect +to his domestic affairs, he both hated and feared his wife--precisely +as a captive animal hates and fears a cruel keeper. She was strong, +and he felt himself to be helpless. His daughter Dominga inspired him +with a peculiar mixture of mystification and awe. Pussy he was fond +of--also of poor Nicky, his son and heir, and of dear old Nani Lopez. +According to her lights she was an upright, good creature; but Blanche, +figuratively, set his teeth on edge, and even the sleek and fawning +Monty, filled him with a sense of unchristian repulsion. + +When he surveyed Blanche and Dom, as they leant across the table +bawling at one another, Paul Chandos breathed an inward prayer, that +in a future state his relations would neither recognise nor claim him. +He had a secret--those little dark-brown pills, which a trusty native +apothecary prepared. The secret was called "opium"; he took it in order +to dream, and to banish misery and care; and the gracious alchemy of +the drug transmuted his poor surroundings like an enchanter's wand. +Once more he was at home in England. + + * * * * * + +To Mrs. Chandos, her new daughter had proved an agreeable surprise. +She was quiet, subdued even, and had exhibited, so far, no airs. The +girl had a simple way of doing things, and the grace and composure of +a great lady; this endowment would prove invaluable to her family, and +was bound to open the doors of cantonment society. Rosa Chandos had +her secret. She loved money--she hungered for it, as a ravenous animal +craves for food--and money came in ample supply; yet her appetite was +never appeased. She was that truly despicable character--a money-lender +to the poor, sheltering her personality behind the broad proportions +of her agent, Abdul Buk, who found in his employer the true daughter +of the horse leech, and of Lopez, the soucar. No one suspected Mrs. +Chandos; her business--which was enormous--was termed, "the love of +figures" and collecting rents. She was a capital accountant, and had a +marvellous head for a certain class of finance. The wretched woman was +torn by two conflicting passions, both inborn and hereditary; these +were the love of money, and the love of display--fellow inmates of her +mind, and yet inveterate foes. + +To Pussy, Verona represented a revelation, and she was figuratively on +her knees before her sweet, English sister. And pretty Pussy, too, had +her secret--there was a certain young Alonzo Diaz on the railway, to +whom she had given her tender heart. Each time she went into Rajahpore +pretty Pussy adorned herself with gaudy ribbons, and with anxious care, +in the fond hope of meeting Alonzo; and she always carried a packet of +"conversation" lozenges in her pocket, in order (should opportunity +offer, and her mother's attention be diverted) to squeeze one into his +hot, limp hand. Oh, Pussy! who would have thought it of you? Artful +little Pussy! And what of the girl curled up luxuriously on a long cane +chair, with cushions heaped behind her, and her eyes half closed? + +Dominga--the Lal Billi, or Red Cat--was a power in her own family--a +power which stood behind the throne ever since she had been a +passionate infant, a delicate child, and a precocious little girl, in +a long pig tail. Her mother adored her, and denied her nothing. Before +she had cut her second teeth, Dominga knew exactly what she wanted--and +secured it; and when at the age of twelve years (having mastered the +knowledge of many curious things), she had clamoured to be sent like +Pussy to a hill school, there to complete her education, her wish was +immediately gratified. + +Mark the difference between the sisters! Good-natured, giggling Pussy +had left the establishment with a very small mental equipment. She +could write a love-note,--with many ill-spelt adjectives, lavishly +underscored; she could dance, crochet, do her hair, and make delicious +cocoanut toffee; but she was as ignorant in her way as any Pahareen +(hill woman), toiling under her load of baggage up the Ghât. But Pussy +left behind her, as she went down, not a few devoted friends and many +weeping eyes. Dominga, when it came to her turn to depart, not one; +but she carried away a supply of information sufficient to flavour her +conversation, and enable her to pose as "well informed." She wrote a +fine hand, had worked hard at her singing, and imbibed some knowledge +of history. Not only could she fix the date of the battle of Hastings, +but of the battles of Pavia, Malplaquet, and Bunker Hill. She enjoyed +reading realistic descriptions of the time of Nero, and the sack of +Rome; the massacre of St. Bartholomew, and the Reign of Terror. Her +taste leaned to horrors, and she would have gone miles at any time to +witness (surreptitiously) an execution! Dominga had her secrets--one +was a whole live ambition! she ardently desired to shake off Manora and +all her family, and to go forth into the world, there to shine alone. +Although amazingly talkative, she was extremely reserved as to her +own plans; no one guessed at her aim--an aim she never once permitted +herself to lose sight of--its name was "emancipation." + +At sixteen years of age, her doting mother had summoned Dominga from +school, and she was launched upon society at a railway ball (the +same at which Monty had proposed for Blanche). Dom was a born flirt, +extremely lively, and indeed so vivacious that she invariably created +a sensation. She imagined that it was "smart" and "up-to-date" to +be loud and noisy (an enemy at Naini Tal had told her this thing); +consequently, she ruined her best prospects by establishing a +reputation for being rowdy, and bad form. She threw things at supper, +and sat on the edge of a refreshment table, dangling her legs, +screaming repartees, and making an uproarious clamour. Thus she brought +herself into immediate notice and ill-repute. But shrewd Dominga had +long discovered that this pose was a calamitous mistake--a false step +she could never repair. She had actually gone out of her way to destroy +her own social chances. Then she was frightfully handicapped by the +Jones family--not merely by Blanche and Monty, but by his horde of +connections, and she was compelled to foregather with the party when +her mother was unable to accompany her--and they were such a crew! Oh, +if she could only get a fresh start now! This girl Verona was so quiet +and ladylike--she had such an air of dignity, she was sure to be taken +up by the cantonment. Doors, at which she had figuratively waited and +whined in vain, would be thrown wide, and she was determined to enter +them by clinging to her sister's skirts. + +Dominga had a second secret--a declared, and not impossible, lover--in +a certain Mr. Charles Young, a subaltern in the Muffineers; he was +a merry, round-faced boy, known to his friends as "Baby Charles," +and he humbly worshipped the Red Chandos. To tell the truth, they +were privately engaged. The fact was never suspected, for it was a +well-established tradition that no one took "D.C." seriously. She had +been flaring about Rajahpore for five years, and was all very well to +flirt or dance with, but to bring into a regiment--no, thank you! At +a whisper of the news the commanding officer would have bundled Baby +Charles out of the place--to a hill depôt--a garrison class--anywhere, +rather than submit one of his subalterns to the claws of the Lal Billi. +The pair had been engaged for six happy weeks; they posted notes to one +another in "Mrs. Beeton's Household Management"--a volume in the Club +Library--and they sat together holding tender conversation on the Club +roof, which was flat and unfrequented--few ever ascended there--whilst +Mrs. Chandos waited, and wondered, in the family victoria. She was not +in the secret, and fondly believed her fair daughter to be detained in +the reading-room. + +Although Dominga was not in love, she was satisfied with her prospects. +Charlie was young, and poor, and rather stupid, but he was an English +officer--his father was an old retired General. If nothing better +offered, she intended to marry him, and thus make her escape from +Manora--shaking its dust for ever from off her feet. + +Once married and presented to the regiment as Mrs. Charles +Vavasour-Young, she resolved to enact the _rôle_ of officer's wife, to +the best of her ability. She was young, she was lively, she was--unless +all men were liars--handsome. She could sing and dance like a +professional, and would have a glorious time and go far. Meanwhile, +Blanche, in her dingy little bungalow, and Lizzie Trotter, and Ada Diaz +would die of sheer envy and jealousy--this reflection afforded Dom a +species of intoxicating rapture. It was surprising that Dom had never +been in love, although her flirtations were notorious and countless; +and she could have married Tom Trotter, Alonzo Diaz, and a stout +Eurasian doctor (Edinburgh M.B.); also, she would have married, had he +been willing, Brian Salwey, but she had made up her mind that, unless +she could "better herself," she was determined to compel her mother +to give her money and her countenance, and to try her fortune on the +Calcutta stage. + +Dom's lithe, seemingly boneless figure had been supreme in skirt +dancing at the school; her dancing had a charm, which her singing +lacked. She represented the very poetry of motion, and seemed to drift +before the eye like some exquisite summer cloud. + +There was a good deal of the Chandos blood in Dominga--unhappily she +had inherited some of the characteristics of her cousin Sydney, and, +like him, she was secretive and false. She was also endowed with his +brains, his irresistible will, his wheedling tongue, and his red hair. +To her mother's side she was indebted for her indolence and love of +soft luxurious ease. + +Not a trustworthy or attractive character--is it? and yet some would +declare, if they saw the graceful Red Cat, coiled up on her corner of +the verandah, the indictment to be a libel, and that Dom was nothing +more than a vivacious, shallow, impulsive creature. + +Truly she was a curious mixture, this slim Eurasian, with the patrician +profile--and the dark marks in her filbert nails. Her mind was as +restless as the ocean, her body was indolent and self-indulgent--which +of the two would rule her life? Which god would Dominga follow--ease or +ambition? Ambition; for ambition often carried luxury in her train. + + + + + CHAPTER XXII + + +Three weeks elapsed before Verona was convalescent, and during that +time, she saw but little of Dominga and her mother; indeed, the +attitude of the latter with respect to an invalid was invariably one +of suppressed hostility. Sickness in the house was a visitation that +Mrs. Chandos could not tolerate, and the patient was sensible that she +was guilty of giving a great deal of trouble, and was more or less in +disgrace. + +She and her mother never drew nearer. It was a painful fact, but they +seemed to be cut off from one another by some impassable barrier of the +spirit. On the other hand, Verona and her grandmother were drawn closer +together day by day. + +"I do love you, Verona," announced Mrs. Lopez as she stroked her hair; +"you are so quiet and so sweet-tempered; you remind me of my poor Lily. +Dominga is not a bit like you; she is always dragging your mother to +the station and the club. Your mother is busy trying to mix in society, +but it is foolish--she gets no further, though she thinks she does; +people only smile and whisper. For all her trouble she will soon find +that 'by running in the boat you do not come to land.'" + +Verona made no reply; she knew nothing whatever of the station or her +mother's position in Rajahpore. + +"Mrs. Lepell and my daughter are awfully sweet to one another," pursued +the old lady; "but it is a rat and cat friendship! Mrs. Lepell will not +have us; she would rather have the Cavalhos; and as for your mother's +liking for Mrs. Lepell, she waters the creeper, but cuts the roots! She +wants Dominga to make a grand marriage; Dominga, too, is willing; your +father, he meddles not in these things." + +"No," assented Verona. + +"She tried to drag him to visit once or twice, but it was no use. Now +and then she cannot move him. There are things he will _not_ do." + +There was a silence for some time, while Mrs. Lopez fed and fondled +a delicate buff chicken she was nursing in her lap. Then she said +suddenly: + +"Verona, why did you leave England? Why did you come here?" + +"Because," replied Verona, and her pale lip quivered, "I wanted so much +to see my own mother." + +Mrs. Lopez gave vent to her queer, wheezy laugh. + +"Then you were wrong to come," she declared. "It is as if one had put +their head in the oil press and cried: 'The favour of Vishnu, be on +me.'" + +"I don't understand you, Nani. What do you mean?" + +"It is always dark under the lamp." + +"But still _I_ am in the dark," she murmured. + +"Well then, lovey, you are a stupid girl! you will guess my meaning +when I say an English proverb: 'Put not your head in the lion's mouth.' +You have heard that, surely?" + +"Yes, but where is the lion, Nani?" + +"My child, may you never find out!" and with this somewhat solemn +aspiration Mrs. Lopez left the room in order to restore her other +invalid to its mother. It must not be supposed that Verona was entirely +neglected by her family--for such was far from being the case. Her +father daily came and gazed at her through the door, and brought her a +few flowers. Pussy was demonstratively affectionate, and remained with +her sister as long as her grandmother would tolerate. Mrs. Lepell sent +dainty little dishes and picture papers; otherwise, as far as the outer +world was concerned, the arrival of "the new Miss Chandos" appeared +to have been almost forgotten, and when Dom and Blanche mixed in the +little local gaieties and were asked about Verona, they invariably +replied that "she was arl-right!" + +One day Mrs. Lepell paid a visit, and had an interview with the invalid +and her mother. "She wants a change," declared the benevolent lady. +"Miss Verona, will you come over and spend a week or two at my house?" + +"Thank you," faltered Verona; "you are very kind," and she looked +interrogatively at her parent. + +"Oh no, no," she rejoined, with energy; "I could not think of it. +Mrs. Lepell, I cannot have one girl more favoured than another; you +recollect when Dominga was ill you never invited her--and you have +known her almost since she was a baby. If I allow Verona to visit you, +'and she a stranger,' Dominga would be so awfully hurt; she has such a +feeling heart, and she is so fond of _you_." + +"Well, I suppose she will not object if I take her sister for a drive?" +said Mrs. Lepell, rather sharply. + +To this project Mrs. Chandos accorded an unwilling assent, and +presently the Trotters were greatly edified by beholding poor +whitefaced Verona stagger out to Mrs. Lepell's luxurious victoria, +Pussy following her with pillows and propping her up with care. + +It was a lovely soft evening, and Mrs. Lepell allowed the girl time to +enjoy her surroundings before she commenced to talk. She glanced at her +as she lay back among the cushions; what a fine, high-bred face it was! +although so wan and languorous. + +"About here the country is all very flat," she began, "cane and +millet crops, millet crops and cane! Now and then you notice one +enormous, solitary tree, the last of the forest perhaps. See that +one yonder--more than a mile away; I've often thought I would like +to make a nearer acquaintance, but he stands encompassed by wheat. +Every time I drive out I look at him and bow, for we have been friends +for twenty years. There, on the left, you may notice the city in the +distance--beyond the city the spire of the cantonment; but we will go +for a drive into the country, and you will like that best." + +Verona nodded her head as Mrs. Lepell's black Australian steppers flew +along a flat, red road bordered with high cane crops and acacia trees. +Now and then, they passed a cluster of huts or a drove of goats, and +once they met a tall, two-storied cage on wheels, drawn by a camel, +full of chattering travellers. + +"The mail-cart to Beetapore!" announced Mrs. Lepell, with a laugh. +Then--"you are better, are you not, my dear?" + +"I am afraid I am," she answered, half under her breath. + +"My dear, you must not talk like that," said Mrs. Lepell, laying her +hand on hers. "Fever does leave one a wreck; _I_ know exactly how you +feel." + +"I hope you have never known how I feel," exclaimed the girl, turning +two tragic eyes slowly on her companion. "I feel--oh, _why_ didn't I +die?" and she burst into tears. + +"I am so sorry for you, you poor dear child." Mrs. Lepell took her hand +tightly in her own; "I know it is all so very new and strange." + +"And it can never be otherwise," sobbed Verona. "I have come out too +late ever to be one of them. It were really better if I were dead." + +"My dear, don't say such things!" + +"Not to every one, Mrs. Lepell, but you have been so kind to me, and +you look sympathetic. It is a relief to me to say aloud what my brain +keeps repeating all day and sometimes all night, 'I wish I were dead.'" + +"Why?" + +"Because I have no real home, here or anywhere; I am an outsider--an +intruder--and oh! I was so anxious to come! My grandmother is right +when she says I am like the dhoby's donkey, for I belong neither to the +house nor the river." + +How nearly she belonged to the river! Did she remember? Mrs. Lepell +wondered. + +"And there are other things." + +"Yes; but now listen to me, Verona--of course I shall call you Verona; +there _are_ other things. You are only twenty-two, with all your best +years before you; you have been well educated; you have enjoyed all the +advantages of wealth and mixed in the world; you have the use of your +faculties; you have a certain amount of brains and beauty. All these +other things you actually possess. It is the act of a coward to throw +down her arms when she meets with a reverse, and cry, 'I want to die! I +am tired of life.' And life is so interesting, even to me, Verona, who +am old enough to be your mother. I wish to live, and see it all--and +what will happen." + +"Ah, but," she protested, "you are different--so different." + +"My dear, every one has their own row to hoe; how do you know that +Providence has not sent you to brighten your home, and refine--and +raise your surroundings?" + +Verona gave a sort of gasping, hysterical laugh. + +"I grant you that your mother and Dominga may not be altogether +sympathetic, but you would have immense influence with Pussy and Nicky; +she is indolent, sweet-tempered, easily led; and Nicky is extremely +clever, but only half-educated, poor boy! they took him away from the +Martinière school, and he has loafed about ever since. Brian Salwey +declares that he has a capital head-piece; all he wants is some one at +home to urge him on, to set to making his way in the world. But he is +losing his best days slacking about Manora, playing tennis and making +hencoops. Now you should take him--and Pussy in hand." + +"I? how do you mean? What can I do?" + +"Do? Why teach them! Give them a couple of hours English and French +lessons of a morning. I can lend you some books. Let them do English +and French dictation, and reading; Green's 'History of the English +People' and Macaulay's 'Essays' will keep them going. I'm sure Pussy +will be all the better for a little arithmetic and spelling. You'll +find that it will interest you--and employ them." + +Verona made no reply. + +"Then there is your father, dear; have you thought of him?" + +"Yes, he scarcely ever opens his lips to me or any one; he appears to +accept everything as it is, and to be sunk in a sort of lethargy." + +"Oh, my dear child, if you only knew his life as my husband related it +to me, you would be sorry, and make allowances for his silence. He has +been a scapegoat for others: he has remained out here for twenty-eight +years, and fallen away from the memory of all his old friends. You call +him lethargic? Well, I daresay his feelings are benumbed. Early in life +he received a terrible shock, which has stunned him. Once he was one of +the cheeriest young fellows; what a contrast to his present condition! +He just grinds away at his post like a horse in a mill, in order to +support his family. You and he should be especial friends." + +"Yes--but why?" + +"Because, presumably, you are a Chandos; you know England--his native +country; the others do not. There is one bond. You like books and +perhaps chess--so does he; you might easily bring some light and warmth +into the poor man's grey life. Will you try, dear?" + +"Yes; but I don't think it will be of the smallest use!" + +"It will! In occupation you will soon forget yourself." + +"I hope I may--for I hate myself at present." + +"You hate everything just now, because you are in low spirits and weak +health. Adopt my prescription--it will cure you. You and I might have +some long drives and talks together, but I am aware that I may not +enjoy your company too often." + +The two ladies returned to the big bungalow, where they sat in the +verandah and had tea. It was like an English tea, with all its dainty +little appointments. The sight of the pretty drawing-room, with its +books and flowers and sketches acted as a restorative. So all Indian +drawing-rooms were not dingy and dark and squalid! Mrs. Lepell's +society was a veritable tonic, and when she had deposited the invalid +at the door of her home, the girl felt miraculously stimulated and +revived. + + * * * * * + +Verona lost no time in putting Mrs. Lepell's advice into practice--her +project of being governess to Nicky and Pussy was accepted by the pair +with unexpected pride and gratitude. A large table in one corner of +the verandah was carefully screened off, and here they worked for two +or three hours every morning, in spite of the jeers and derision of +Dominga and her mother. Pussy was incredibly dull; nothing could induce +her to put the "e" in the right place in "believe" and "receive," and +as to the difference between latitude and longitude she merely laughed +and shook her head. + +On the other hand, Nicky had brains, and a decided taste for +mathematics. Salwey gave him lessons twice a week, for Nicky had been +promised a clerkship in the works if he proved steady and industrious; +certainly, it was only fifty rupees a month, but it was better than +nothing. His ambition had been set alight, and Salwey had fired him +with the desire to be an engineer, and to endeavour to pass into Roorki +College. Nicky now turned his carpentering talents to mending an old, +long-neglected boat, and of an afternoon he rowed his two sisters about +the river--even his grandmother ventured once--anything to please +Nicky, for Nicky was her darling. Verona, to her great satisfaction, +now began to know her father a little better; he dropped his reserve, +and seemed faintly interested in the boating and lessons. + +One evening, much to her surprise, he invited her into his own +particular den; it was at the far end of the bungalow, opened directly +into the verandah, and was entered by three steps. As she stood and +gazed about her Verona gave an exclamation of astonishment; she had +seen an officer's barrack room in England, she was standing in its +counterpart here. There was the brass-bound chest of drawers, the camp +bed, the folding chair and round table; over the mantel-piece hung a +sabre, sabre-tasche, and spurs; on the walls, covered with numbers of +faded regimental groups, were also polo sticks, hog spears and some +old sporting prints. One side of the room was lined with a bookcase; +there was a writing table, a shabby, comfortable-looking armchair, and +quantities of pipes. It was the room of an officer, and gentleman! + +"Here I sit and smoke and dream alone," explained Mr. Chandos. + +"Always alone?" enquired Verona. + +"Yes; no one else cares to dream and read." + +"I think I do, father." + +"Then I invite you here; consider yourself an honorary member of the +Den." + +"Thank you." + +"Do you play piquet or chess?" + +"Yes--but not well." + +"No doubt you will beat me--I am terribly rusty." + +"At any rate I shall try," she answered with a bright smile. "Who?" +suddenly walking over to a picture, "is this handsome young man in +racing colours?" + +"Do you not know?" he asked with an air of distressed surprise. + +"You!" she exclaimed, with an unflattering start. + +"Yes; that was taken after I won the Civil Service Cup, at Lucknow, +on Good Fortune. Names go by contraries, for since that day my luck +turned. I have been going steadily down the ladder ever since." + +"Oh, father," and she paused and turned and looked at him; "why do you +say so? What do you mean?" + +"I've done those things which I ought not to have done, and not done +those things which I ought to have done, and there's no health in me." + +She gazed into his eyes, laden with inexpressible remorse; then turned +away to hide her own tears--and presently said, in a totally different +voice: + +"Ah, I see," pointing to the bookcase, "you have all Sir Walter Scott, +tattered and torn--how I love him!" + +"Is he your only love so far?" + +"Well," with an effort at gaiety, "I must confess I am very fond of +Charles Lamb and Emerson and George Eliot." + +"So am I," cried her parent; "I see that we shall agree." + +"Above all I love William Thackeray." + +"Here," he laughed and said, "you have my consent; it is a family +failing." + +"Oh, what a beautiful old place!" she exclaimed, as she paused before +a little spotted landscape, in the midst of which stood a stately and +picturesque mansion. + +"Yes, Charne Hall; I was born there." + +She moved in order to examine it still closer, thinking of the +appalling contrast between her father's birthplace and his present +abode. + +"It has been in our family since the reign of James I.; my cousin has +it now. He married a woman of large fortune; they have no children." + +Verona turned and glanced at him. Her thoughts flew to Nicky. Was Nicky +the heir to this ancestral English home? + +"It is a beautiful place," continued her father, gazing at the picture +with eyes of deep affection; "it is the sort of mansion house agents +cry up, with its saloon, suite of drawing-rooms, picture gallery, +library, and forty or fifty bedrooms; but if it was only a little +roadside cottage I should love it just as much. I am proud of being +a Chandos of Charne. In all the ups and downs of my life I have +remembered this fact, and kept the name spotless, to the best of my +power. You can never guess, my dear, what sacrifices this has cost me, +miserable and insignificant as I am. I have upheld our name. Were any +one belonging to me to dishonour or disgrace it, it would kill me." +He spoke with such vehemence and suppressed passion, that he seemed +transformed. + +"Here," he continued as he unlocked a drawer, and produced a large +photograph, which showed the place on a much finer scale. "And here," +he added, placing another picture in her hand. It was a photograph of a +pretty girl in her teens, the face was sweet, the dress old-fashioned, +"Oh, no, not that," hastily seizing it. "But this--it is your +grandfather." It was a photograph, from a portrait, of a handsome, +haughty, elderly man. + +And across one corner of the picture was inscribed in a bold hand: +"Chandos, of Charne." + +Verona took the picture in her hand and considered it attentively. + +Her grandfather! What a contrast was presented by this aristocratic +English magnate to her grandmother in the Dufta! + +"I have never shown it before," resumed her father in a tremulous tone, +"so do not say anything about it. But you have been at home--you are +a Chandos--_you_ understand. I think, my dear," and his voice broke a +little, "we shall have many things in common. I am thankful that you +came; already you have done good to Nicky and Pussy and me." He paused +abruptly and stood in a listening attitude. + +Yes, there was a sound of wheels! The victoria had returned from its +daily round and common task. + +Presently a shrill voice came pealing down the verandah. + +"Verona, Verona! Now where _is_ that girl?" + +"There, there, my dear, you had better go," urged her father nervously; +"you will come again soon." As she turned to leave the room she met her +mother face to face in the doorway. + +"Oh, ho!" she cried, "so _you_ have found your way here? I have seen +Mrs. Lepell; she says she wants you and Pussy to go to tea to-morrow. I +can't think what she is up to!" + + + + + CHAPTER XXIII + + +It was an unprecedented honour for Pussy to be invited to tea at the +big bungalow, and when Verona had arranged her hair, and dressed her in +a white skirt and pink silk blouse, she looked surprisingly handsome. +Indeed, when Mrs. Lepell shook hands with her, and noticed the look +of timid self-approval on her pretty dark face, she began to realise +Mrs. Chandos in her youth. She had invited the girl as a screen and +companion for her friend Verona, and the three sat out under the bamboo +trees and had tea. Pussy felt excessively nervous, yet triumphant; +never before had she been thus honoured--only invited as one of the +factory crowd; she gazed about her admiringly at the cane chairs and +rugs and books. While her sister and her hostess conversed, she munched +cakes and chocolates--stared at them steadily and mentally compared the +two. Verona was quite as much a great lady as Mrs. Lepell, her eyes +were so queenly; she sat with such ease, with her pretty hands in her +lap, and even in a plain cambric gown she seemed beautifully dressed. +Here was Mr. Salwey riding up on his splendid black horse--how fine he +looked! She surveyed him furtively as he came quickly down the steps, +in his neat brown riding boots, his light coat, his tie and his hat. +What blue, blue eyes he had! How quiet they were, and yet they seemed +to see everything with their cool, watchful glance! + +He was almost the only gentleman of Pussy's acquaintance; he was +Pussy's idea of a story-book hero; everyone of her favourites fitted +him, but he was better, and handsomer, and cleverer than them all. She +looked up to Salwey as her ideal--but had bestowed her heart on his +antipodes. + +"Well, Aunt Liz," he said, coming forward with a smile. + +"Oh, Brian, I am glad to see you! I thought you were on duty." + +"No, I'm on pleasure," and he nodded to Pussy with a friendly air. + +"This is my nephew--Brian Salwey," said Mrs. Lepell. "Brian, let me +introduce you to Miss Verona Chandos." + +Verona inclined her head; he bowed profoundly and, as he moved aside +some papers, and took a chair, Brian Salwey was inwardly telling +himself that this young person--was no half-caste; she looked like a +lady of high degree, with her delicate features and well set-on head. + +"And here," resumed his aunt, turning to the shy, dark girl, with eyes +like fixed stars, "is Miss Pussy, with whom you are already acquainted." + +"Oh, yes; Miss Pussy has often been down to my place with her +brother--and seen my ponies." + +"Oh, they are lovelee! such beauties! Oh, I do love ponies," she +exclaimed, then wriggled, and relapsed into a condition of smothered +giggling. What a curious contrast was afforded by the English and the +Indian sisters! One seemed a refined, cultivated girl of the world--the +other, a daughter of the bazaars! Could education achieve so much with +respect to deportment and voice? + +Presently Salwey expressed a hope that "there was some tea left +for him? Being as you know," turning to his aunt, "a thoroughly +domesticated character." + +"And pray, how did you leave England?" he inquired, now addressing +himself directly to Verona. + +"I left it with some regret," she answered, with a smile. "It was +August, you know." + +"Ah, August is my favourite month," he remarked, as he carefully +selected a lump of sugar. + +"Yes, you impostor!" said his aunt. "You would like Miss Chandos to +suppose that you are thinking of gorgeous sunsets, and harvest homes, +and early autumn tints. My dear, the truth is, he is thinking of the +shooting." + +"Well, I have not been able to do anything but _think_ of it for some +years. Pray, who is the owner of this pretty thing?" he asked, as he +stooped to pick up a little gold pencil-case. + +Verona held out her hand. "Yes, is it not pretty? I got it at the Army +and Navy Stores." + +"Oh, the Stores! They are painfully associated in my mind with wedding +presents--I have put in some bad quarters-of-an-hour there." + +"Yes, it's a ready-money place," suggested his aunt with a sly smile. + +"Oh, that was not it--thanks awfully for the insinuation--it was the +worry of thinking, and making up my mind." + +"Why give anything?" + +"What can I do, when fellows I know will get married?" + +"Console yourself with the expectation of the crop _you_ may reap some +day." + +"That depends! If I were to marry an heiress--I daresay I'd have a +good harvest, on the principle of 'give an apple where there is an +orchard'--you see," glancing at Verona, "that I can quote proverbs, as +well as Mrs. Lepell." + +"But she is not a cynic like you, Brian." + +"Come, don't crush me in public, Aunt Liz. I hear"--turning to +Verona--"that you have brought out no end of new books----" + +"Yes, I have a good many; can I lend you some?" + +"If you lend him a book, Verona, you will be sorry," interposed his +aunt. + +"Now--she is impeaching my honesty, you see! Any cheap paper-backed +edition--not turning solely on murder and robbery--would be gratefully +appreciated." + +"I daresay I can supply your requirements." + +"The fact is," said Salwey, taking off his hat and throwing it on the +grass, "I cannot stand anything that demands sternly concentrated +attention. I don't want to hear of the 'over man,' nor even the +'sub-conscious brain'; on the other hand, I find the reading of +'shockers' requires an amount of physical courage, in which I am +deficient--and--for love stories--I have--to borrow the American terms, +'no use.'" + +"So, you see, he will not be easy to suit!" supplemented Mrs. Lepell. + +"Oh, yes," he protested. "He is merely a simple, unsophisticated police +wallah." + +"Not so _very_ simple, Brian. And you _have_ some use for love stories. +Do you recollect how you borrowed and gobbled up 'A Princess of Thule,' +and sent it back horribly disfigured and reeking of tobacco?" + +"I offered to replace it----" + +"To keep it--as I understood----" + +"For my part, I much prefer 'Macleod of Dare,'" declared Verona. + +This remark at once started an animated discussion. + +And now that the conversation circled round books and pictures, poor +Pussy was completely out of her depth, and could contribute nothing +beyond the language of the eye, and spasmodic gigglings. + +Meanwhile, as Brian Salwey talked to her charming low-voiced sister, +he felt figuratively swept off his feet; it was impossible to realise +that this girl was the daughter of the sub-manager and "Mother Chan."; +that her great-grandmother had been a Temple girl from the West coast, +who had sung and danced before the gods. His brain actually reeled as +he endeavoured to assimilate this fact, with the beautiful face, the +well-cut, firm lips, that were imparting her impressions of the recent +Passion play at Oberammergau. Never for a moment did she appear to +recall that terrible scene by the river, and her own pitiful cry, "Let +me die! Oh, let me die!" + +At present she was laughing at some epitaphs that Mrs. Lepell had +unearthed from an American magazine, little dreaming how near she had +been to earning an epitaph herself! + +"I must say I like the unquestioning conviction of this one from +Wyoming county," said Mrs. Lepell, and she read aloud: + + "She was in health at 11.30 a.m. + And left for heaven at 2.30 p.m." + +Brian leant nearer, and looked over his aunt's shoulder, and said: +"Yes, but I think this one from Maine would be hard to beat as a +monument of punctuation. + + 'John Philips + Accidentally shot as a mark of affection by his brother.' + +or this is most excellent: + + 'Here lies the body of Obadiah Wilkinson and Ruth his wife, + Their warfare is accomplished.' + +"Now let us hand the book to Miss Chandos that she may make her +selection." As he spoke he took it from Mrs. Lepell, and held it to +Verona. After a slight pause, she said: "I really think mine is the +best of all." + +"Then I challenge you to let us hear it," said Salwey. + +In a low steady voice she at once began to read aloud: + + "'Our life is but a winter's day, + Some breakfast and away, + Others to dinner stay--and are well fed, + The oldest sups and goes to bed. + Large is the debt who lingers out the day, + Who goes the soonest--has the least to pay.'" + +"So you would go soon?" looking at the girl interrogatively. + +"Yes, after breakfast, so to speak," she responded. + +"And I would remain till after supper--when the band had dispersed, and +the lights were put out." + +"I, too, should like to remain till the Last Post," said Mrs. Lepell. + +Pussy listened to this conversation with a face of blank bewilderment. +What did they mean by talking of breakfast, and supper, in this odd +fashion? + +"By-the-way, Verona," said Mrs. Lepell, "to change to another subject, +have you ever had any trace of your jewels?" + +"No, never." + +"Pray, Brian," turning to her nephew, "what are you about? I repeat the +common cry, 'Where are the police?'" + +"The police were never informed of this theft," he rejoined. "I heard +of the robbery as a mere bazaar shave." + +"Do you mean to tell me," said his aunt, now sitting erect, "that you +were not officially informed that Mrs. Chandos had a press broken into, +and that Verona's dressing-bag was opened, and all the valuables in it +were carried off?" + +"What valuables?" he asked, judicially. + +"Oh, oh--oh!" cried Pussy, unable to hold her tongue any longer. "Oh, +such lovelee things, that must have cost lakhs of rupees! A gold +watch and chain, a diamond and turquoise necklet, pearl bangles, and +a pendant with an emerald as big as _this_"--making a circle with two +little brown fingers--"and rings, and all sorts of things." + +"How long ago did this happen?" + +"Six weeks." + +"And this is the first I have heard of it; I am afraid everything is +scattered far by this time." + +"I did suggest sending for the police," said Verona. + +"Yes, it was when you were so sick; mother would not have it; she," and +here Pussy giggled, "says all the police are thieves." + +"Even so, I wonder she did not endeavour to set a thief to catch a +thief," rejoined Salwey, "and I maintain that the police are not +thieves. Has nothing been done?" turning to Verona. "Why has the affair +been allowed to drop?" + +"I really don't know," she replied. + +"And has there not been one single trace?" pursued Mrs. Lepell. + +"I don't know what you would call a trace. You know that man, Abdul +Buk?" + +Salwey's eyes brightened. + +"Yes, I have that--experience." + +"I was walking on the road the other day when he drove by in that +battered old phaeton of his; when he saw me he pulled up, and said: +'Oh, what a pity about your pretty things, Miss Sahib, I am so sorry. I +think the watch and chain might be got, if you would give reward--say, +of three hundred rupees.'" + +"Yes?" said Salwey. + +"I refused; I told him I had no money to spare." + +"No," put in Pussy, "for she has spent it all on my bicycle." + +Verona coloured vividly, and Salwey said: "If you will write me out a +list of all the things that have been stolen, I should like to see what +I can do, on the principle of 'Better late than never.'" + +"I will--thank you very much," the clock was now striking six, and +Verona rose to depart. She had enjoyed an hour of what had once been +her everyday life, a woman's brilliant, cultivated talk, and dainty +refined surroundings, a man's astonished first look--and subsequent +subdued homage. Oh, she knew it all so well! For one short hour she +had been back at Cannes, with the sun setting over the Estorells. The +sun here had just set behind the sugar factory, where her father was +employed; she was nothing more or less than a foolish discontented +half-caste, who had momentarily forgotten her place in the world, and +must at once return home, or her mother would be angry. + +Salwey accompanied Verona and Pussy, carrying magazines and papers, +the gift of his aunt; almost before he left them he must have heard an +irritable: + +"Now, where have you two been? Oh, my! you are late. And look at Pussy +in a pink blouse! How set up she is!" + +All this harangue was from Dominga--who was lolling in the verandah in +a long cane chair. + +She and her mother had lately returned from Rajahpore, bringing with +them a considerable amount of irritation and ill-temper. + +When Salwey once more made his way to the tea-table, his aunt was still +there. + +"Now, Brian," she said, "sit down here; I want to know what you think +of her." + +"Her?" he repeated, "which her?" + +"Don't be so ridiculous! You know perfectly well who I mean." + +"I think," he said, "that the new Miss Chandos is the most beautiful +girl I have ever seen." + +"And has no recollection, that this is not your first meeting, and that +but for you her body would have been found in the Jurra?" + +"I don't know how to believe that she is the sister of that fat little +dark girl, or the daughter of Mother Chan, or even the sister of the +illustrious Dominga." + +"Their noses are rather alike," said Mrs. Lepell, with a meditative +air; "do you see much of Dominga?" + +"Much too much! She and her mother are continually in the club, +ostensibly to read the papers; the girl plays tennis and badminton--she +also plays the fool." + +"You don't like her, Brian?" + +"Well, no, I know a few things about Miss Dominga Chandos." + +"Oh, tell me?" said his aunt, eagerly. + +"Her people ought to look after her." + +"And is that all I am to hear?" + +"Isn't it enough? Think of all the events, situations, and mysteries, +your imagination can weave out of that little sentence. To me she is +always the Cat--the Red Cat; she has a disagreeable way of winding +herself about, and purring." + +"Singing, you mean?" + +"I don't admire her caterwauling; her voice is detestable. I always +seem to hear the native note dominating her song, the Nautch girl +note." + +"And so you say that Dominga reminds you of a red cat? Take care she +does not scratch you some day." + +"No fear!" Then, as if suddenly recollecting something, "What an +extraordinary business this is about Miss Verona's jewels; I cannot +understand it." + +"Neither can I." + +"To me it looks rather like a hushed-up affair; someone in Manora has +had a hand in the robbery." + +"Perhaps," said Mrs. Lepell, doubtfully, "but Mrs. Chandos is the +last woman in the world to allow herself, or her family, to be robbed +without a struggle." + +"Yes, that old scoundrel, Abdul Buk, seems to know something about it." + +"I always thought he was rather a nice, venerable old person." + +"He is a nice, deep old person, and I must admit, that I've never yet +found him out; he is full of palaver and civility. If I were to believe +anonymous letters----" + +"But no one believes them," protested his aunt. + +"He is at the bottom of the worst form of usury and blood-sucking in +the district." + +"There you go," said his aunt, "started on your hobby, usury and +money-lenders." + +"Well, they are the curse of the country, and if it is in my power to +abate that curse, and release a few hundred slaves, I shall not have +lived in vain." + +"Brian, you ought to have been a barrister; I can see and hear you +haranguing a jury." + +"Thank you, I'm perfectly satisfied with my present profession, hunting +down and securing criminals for barristers to denounce and juries to +condemn." + +There was a long silence; Mrs. Lepell put a few stitches in her work, +and Salwey made some notes in a little book. + +"District Superintendent Salwey," she began suddenly, "of what are you +thinking?" + +"Aunt Liz, this question of yours has become a confirmed habit, as +regular as 'how do you do?' Since you particularly wish to know--I am +thinking of the new Miss Chandos and her turquoise necklet; why is she +kept so strictly in the background?" + +"Perhaps her mother imagines that she would extinguish Dominga--and +Dominga is her idol, her brazen image." + +"Possibly, and the other is a true lady, unaffected, refined, and +altogether a most attractive and interesting personality." + +"But nothing to _you_, Brian. You must not fall in love with her; +think of Mrs. Lopez as you see her, basking in the sun, a shapeless +old woman, a mass of superstition and ignorance; think of Verona's +grandmother, and then think of your own. You know the beautiful picture +in the Roxley library--I believe if you were to marry a Eurasian girl, +she would come down out of her frame!" + + + + + CHAPTER XXIV + + +"Girls, I have ordered the wagonette for this afternoon," announced +Mrs. Chandos, "so we will all go to the club. Verona, you have been +here two months, and never once been in to the station. Just fancy!" + +Verona's attempted apologies and excuses were imperiously silenced. +In a quarter of an hour she found herself driving from the door, in +company with her mother, Dominga, Pussy and Blanche, who had been +spending the morning with her relations. + +"Oh, Verona, how I wish you knew some of the officers' wives," bewailed +her mother; "it would be such a help to your poor sisters. You see, +although we are such a good family at home, and go back for hundreds of +years, yet we are looked down on in Rajahpore as just factory nobodies. +Your father will never leave a card on the mess, no, not even when his +old friends were here, though I went down on my knees and asked him to +do it. Yes, I did! No one calls on us except one or two young men who +are no good. No?" + +"But don't you go to numbers of entertainments and tennis parties?" +enquired the newcomer. + +"We go only to look on--to sports and cricket matches, but we know no +one, for we, of course, will not sit beside the Trotters and the wood +contract people. Then, when we go to the station club, people give us +the cold shoulder, and look as much as to say, 'Now, what are _you_ +doing here?' If you only knew one or two officers' wives they would ask +us to balls and dinners, and what a thing it would be for us! There +must be hundreds and thousands of people in the world that you know, +Verona." + +"Yes; but I do not think that I shall meet any of them at Rajahpore." + +During this conversation the party had been driving towards the +cantonment, which at this period of the year resembled green, park-like +plains, diversified with barracks, bungalows, clumps of feathery +bamboos, and clumsy mango trees. + +Outside the club waited many carriages, and round the tennis courts +a number of people were assembled, as Mrs. Chandos and her daughters +descended (unassisted) from the wagonette. + +They chattered into the reading-room, _en masse_, and went over to the +big table where the picture papers were to be found. These they tossed +about recklessly, or turned over with contemptuous indifference. No +one took the smallest notice of them, although Blanche, Dominga and +Pussy had duly announced their arrival by loud remarks and laughter, as +ear-piercing as a peacock's scream. + +Mrs. Chandos was apparently buried in the _Queen_, but her little +black eyes were all the time roving round the room; yet she did not +appear to observe the glances of annoyance that were cast at her three +merry daughters. Verona, more sensitive, got up and walked away into +the adjoining library, which was lined with books. Several people +were also examining the shelves. As she was turning over the pages +of an old friend, she was startled to hear a voice beside her say: +"Is it possible that I behold Miss Chandos?" She looked up quickly, +and beheld a little blonde lady, with a pert, piquant face, and in an +instant recognised Miss Snoad, a second-rate girl, who lived near the +Melvilles, and whom she suddenly remembered had, to the surprise and +delight of her family, married an officer and gone to India. + +"Ah! I know you're going to say 'Miss Snoad,'" she continued, and her +little green eyes danced gleefully, "but I am Mrs. Barwell now; my +husband is a Major in the Muffineers. Who would have thought of seeing +_you_ out here? I suppose you are globe-trotting. How is Madame de +Godez?" + +These questions were poured forth so rapidly that Verona had no time to +reply. + +"Madame de Godez is dead; she died very suddenly last March." + +"Oh!" ejaculated Mrs. Barwell. Undoubtedly Madame de Godez's heiress +stood before her, the happy owner of fifteen thousand a year! "And +only fancy your being at Rajahpore! I suppose you have a smart +chaperone--some lady of title. You must both come and stay with me--a +good long visit." + +"Thank you very much, but I am with my own relations," replied Verona. + +"Why--I never knew you had any relations in India." + +"Nor did I, until within the last few months." + +"Who are they?" asked the lady breathlessly. "What is their name?" + +"Chandos; they live at Manora." + +"What! _Those_ people?" and Mrs. Barwell's voice grew shrill, her face +became quite pink, as she collapsed on a chair and exclaimed: + +"Well, I never!" + +Verona remained standing, motionless, gazing at her in dead silence, +and there was a long, uncomfortable pause. + +"And what has become of all the money?" gasped Mrs. Barwell at last. + +"It went to Madame de Godez's next of kin." + +"My gracious goodness! my stars! What a change for you; what an _awful_ +come down!" + +At this moment Mrs. Chandos bustled into the library, closely attended +by Pussy and Dominga. + +"Whatt!" she exclaimed, triumphantly, "so you _have_ found a friend, +Verona!" and she looked from her daughter to the little, hard-faced +woman in the armchair. "You must introduce me, Verona. No?" + +Verona, painfully embarrassed, remained silent. What was she to do? Of +course her mother wished to know Mrs. Barwell, but Mrs. Barwell did not +wish to know her mother. + +To her profound relief the latter stood up, and said: + +"Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Chandos? I believe I get my eggs and fowls +from you? Your daughter and I were acquainted in England." + +"Yes, yes, yes; and this is my other daughter, Dominga. I daresay you +have met Dom at the tennis----" + +Mrs. Barwell merely closed her eyes at Dominga, and turning abruptly to +Verona, said: + +"Now, when will you come to see me?" + +"I really cannot say." + +"Oh, you can have the victoria any day," volunteered her mother with +gushing officiousness. + +"Let me see," said Mrs. Barwell, "Wednesday is the polo; suppose you +come to tea and we go on there afterwards. There is to be a grand +match, and a number of people are coming over from Cheepore." + +Mrs. Chandos once more put herself forward, and with eager volubility +promised her daughter's company without fail, and after a few little +speeches Mrs. Barwell left the library. + +"Whatt luck!" cried Mrs. Chandos. "Dominga, you can _not_ play tennis; +you must come down with me to the bazaar and get a pair of shoes. +Whatt luck! Whatt luck!" she kept repeating. "Whatt luck!" + +Verona failed to see any connection between the word "luck" and +Dominga's new kid shoes, but she understood this puzzle later. + +When Wednesday came, Verona--who was exceedingly reluctant to fulfil +her engagement to Mrs. Barwell--was astonished to find that Dominga was +to bear her company! Dominga, arrayed in her own best green foulard and +one of "Suzanne's" celebrated hats, was dragging on a pair of new white +gloves as she entered the drawing-room. + +"Where are you going, Dominga?" she asked. + +"I am going with you--a pleasant surprise!" + +"But, Dom, you cannot come; you know you were not invited." + +"Oh, yes, I can. Tea is nothing--she will not mind." + +"Then I shall not go at all," announced Verona, and as she spoke she +began to remove her hat. "I will write a note of excuse. Please tell +the man to take round the victoria." + +Mrs. Chandos was barely in time to hear the fag end of this +conversation, and burst out in a fury of passion. + +"Hi! hi! what do you mean giving those grand lady orders here? I only +give orders in this house. You learn thatt, Miss. I now order you, take +your sister to Mrs. Barwell's. If you were not a bad hearted, mean, +thankless wretch, you would feel glad and proud to introduce Dominga to +your friends. She shall go--and I say it!" + +"Then she goes alone; and, indeed, I am not at all anxious to resume my +acquaintance with Mrs. Barwell." + +"Oh, it is already three o'clock," screamed Mrs. Chandos; "you will be +late! What is the good of you--you idle, useless doll, but to help your +sisters into society?" Mrs. Chandos was perfectly livid with passion; +her tongue, now loosened, gave vent to a torrent of abuse. + +At this particular moment Verona caught sight of her father timidly +opening the door of his den, and, turning her back on her storming +mother, she hurried to appeal to him. + +"Father," she began, "I am invited to tea in Rajahpore with a lady I +once knew slightly; I have no desire to know her any better. My mother +accepted the invitation, and now insists on sending Dominga with me. +I'm sure Mrs. Barwell will think it a great intrusion. What am I to do?" + +"Go, my dear," was his surprising reply; "go; you must submit to your +mother. There is no alternative." + +"Go?" she repeated incredulously. "You are not in earnest!" + +"Yes," and his voice faltered, poor, craven man. "Go for my sake, +Verona--and the sake of peace. These scenes"--and he nodded towards the +verandah--"are distracting. Oh, go, my dear, for God's sake--it will +only be a little hurt to your pride, and it will soon be over!" and +with this extremely faint consolation, Verona, holding her head very +high, went down the steps and took her place in the victoria beside her +exultant sister. + + + + + CHAPTER XXV + + +As Verona bowled along the road beside Dominga, she felt brave enough +to cope with this unprecedented occasion. When she thought of her +father's miserable eyes, and agonised appeal, she was prepared to face +a dozen Mrs. Barwells, but by and by, her courage subsided; the cold +fit came on, her heart beat fast, her lips trembled involuntarily. She +was aware that for the first time in her life she was about to take an +unwarrantable liberty. They had all too soon reached their journey's +end; dashed up a gravelled avenue, and come to a full stop under the +porch of Major Barwell's bungalow. Presently they were ushered into the +presence of the lady of the house, who was lolling in an armchair, +reading a paper. She rose with alacrity to greet her visitor, but +when she caught sight of "Red Chandos" behind her pretty pale sister, +her agreeable smile instantly changed to an expression of angry +astonishment. + +"I have ventured to bring Dominga," said Verona, rather faintly. + +"So it seems," rejoined Mrs. Barwell, with an almost imperceptible +inclination of the head. + +"A most unexpected honour"--the words were "unexpected honour," but +tone was "unpardonable impertinence." + +Mrs. Barwell raised her voice and called, "Qui Hye." A servant came +running in. + +"If any other ladies call--say I am not at home." + +Verona thoroughly understood. Mrs. Barwell did not wish her friends +to find Dominga Chandos sitting in her drawing-room, and she made up +her mind that as soon as possible the lady should be relieved of her +society--nothing would induce her to remain to tea. + +"Oh, stop a moment," said Mrs. Barwell. "Now that I think of it, the +private theatrical people are coming in--never mind, never mind." With +a wave of her hand she dismissed the bearer. + +Then she sat down and motioned the sisters to two chairs, and +addressing her conversation exclusively to Verona, began: + +"I was so surprised to see you the other day; I had no idea you were in +the neighbourhood. What an awful change you must find it in every way!" + +Verona mentally assented to this remark, but merely replied: + +"I like India. I have always wished to see it." + +"That is fortunate, is it not, my dear? as your home happens to be +out here. What a contrast to Halstead! Do you often hear from the +Melvilles?" + +"Not very often--I am a bad correspondent." + +These letters were Verona's constant difficulty, she could not +tell the truth--also, she could not tell falsehoods. She loved Mrs. +Melville even more than ever, but she dared not acquaint her with her +unfortunate condition. There is loyalty to one's kindred--be they +who they may--rich or poor, black or white. Her letters home were +consequently constrained; after the first mention of her relatives she +rarely named them. Mrs. Melville could read between the lines. The +child was disillusioned and depressed. + +"What funny people they were," resumed Mrs. Barwell. + +Verona's friends had never struck her as particularly humorous. +Possibly Mrs. Barwell thought them "funny," because they had never +cultivated her acquaintance in former days, when she was Miss Snoad. + +"By-the-way, what a wretched match Margery made!" + +"Oh, no!" protested her friend, "she is extremely happy." + +"But he had scarcely a penny besides his pay, and that girl had the +advantage of the very best county society. What _is_ the good of county +society, and being exclusive, if you can't do better than that? Of +course, she was no beauty; indeed, for my part, I always thought her +very plain." + +During the conversation Dominga sat aloof, totally unabashed by her +icy reception, and stared round the room exhaustively. It resembled +its mistress--it was cheap and showy, not dark and gloomy, with heavy +hangings and solid furniture, like the drawing-room at Manora, but +light and gay. The walls were coloured bright green, and covered with +large fans and small mirrors; quantities of wickerwork chairs were +dressed in gaudy flounced cretonne. + +Over the floor were scattered numbers of deer-skins, mounted on red +flannel. Whilst her sister and Mrs. Barwell talked of home, Dominga +presently rose from her seat, strolled around examining the photographs +and ornaments, as calmly and critically as if they were so many lots +at auction. Meanwhile Mrs. Barwell followed her movements with angry +eyes. Just at this moment two ladies were ushered in, Mrs. Palgrave +and Miss Richards, the Colonel's wife and sister. Mrs. Palgrave was +tall and slight; her face was rather plain, but animated, and she had a +charming smile. Her sister was a handsome, bright-looking girl of about +five-and-twenty. They were both remarkably well dressed, and appeared +to be in the highest spirits. Mrs. Barwell received them effusively, +but did not attempt to present the other ladies. Her slight civility to +Verona had now become congealed. + +"So you have just come from the rehearsal?" she began, making room for +Mrs. Palgrave beside her. + +"Yes, we are quite worn out with our exertions, at least, Dolly is. I +am merely chaperone, critic, peacemaker, and prompter." + +"How are you getting on?" turning to Miss Richards. + +"Only pretty well. Mrs. Norton and Mrs. Long have been squabbling, and +Captain Prescott has thrown up his part. He won't act; I cannot imagine +why he is so cross." + +"But I know," said Mrs. Palgrave, with a laugh. "It is his liver. +Whenever he has a touch of liver, he always becomes argumentative and +cynical, and says no woman under forty is worth speaking to." + +"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Mrs. Barwell, "then there is no one to suit +him here--we are all too juvenile." + +"Like Baby Charles, such a dear boy, who is acting with me," said Miss +Richards. "He is so young, and so pleased with everything--hockey, +cricket, racquets; he really should have a child's part." + +"And what _is_ his part?" asked Mrs. Barwell. + +"Oh, he is my _fiancé_, but he can't make love a bit--although he is +_in_ love." + +"Pray, how do you know, Dolly?" demanded her sister, and her tone was +authoritative. + +"Well, he wears a very badly knitted green tie, a shocking affair! I +have remonstrated with him about it, and told him I will not be engaged +to him unless he leaves it off; it entirely spoils his appearance, but +he still clings to his green tie, and blushes when I chaff him, and +looks quite hurt. I am perfectly convinced that _she_ made it. Does +anyone know," laughing and looking round the room, "a young lady in +this neighbourhood who knits ties?" + +Verona glanced instinctively at her sister and their eyes met. Dominga +had been deeply interested in the conversation, and there was a tinge +of colour in her cheeks which added to her appearance; she looked +brilliantly handsome. Verona, aloof and ignored, had felt the irony of +Mrs. Barwell's insolence eating into her very soul--and now rose to +depart. + +"What," cried her hostess, "why are you going away? you know--I _asked_ +you to tea." + +"Thank you very much, but we really cannot stay." She glanced +imploringly at Dominga, who nevertheless remained rooted to her chair, +and returned her sister's look with a stare of bold defiance. No, no! +she would not stir. Seeing this _impasse_, Mrs. Barwell turned to +Verona, and said: + +"I cannot let you run away like this--here is tea--do sit down, and +don't be silly. I am sure you have no _other_ engagement!" + +In the meanwhile Miss Richards was talking to Dominga, and conversation +now became general. Presently Dominga drew Miss Richards' attention to +a photograph of her hostess, over which she went into audible raptures. +Now Mrs. Barwell was not insensible to flattery, she liked to inhale +it in strong doses. She was pleased to hear Dominga comparing her +photograph to Mary Anderson--the comparison being considerably to her +advantage. + +After all, "Red Chandos" was not a bad sort of girl; she was really +beautifully dressed, undoubtedly handsome, and, if the men were to be +believed, "great fun." She accorded one or two words to her visitor, +and the favourable impression was deepened. + +"Oh, Mrs. Barwell," said Dominga, "I did so want to see your pretty +room." Here was a half apology. "I'd heard so much about it--and it +really is perfectly charming; I hope you don't mind my saying so." + +Mrs. Barwell did not mind at all, but coldly appropriated the +compliment as her due, and Dominga--who would always be very useful in +any house but her own--stood up, and began to help her with the tea +things. + +"Mr. Salwey is stage manager, is he not?" said Mrs. Barwell. + +"Yes, and such a capital one," replied Mrs. Palgrave, as she helped +herself to cake; "immovable, implacable, a sort of armour-plated man, +whom nothing can ruffle! I wish you could have seen him to-day, when +those two women were talking hard to one another about a certain scene, +neither listening to one single word the other said. Mr. Salwey stood +by, gently throwing in occasional blocks of solid sense." + +"Had it any effect?" + +"Oh, yes, ultimately. I like Mr. Salwey; I always think it is such a +pity that he is not in the Service!" + +"I am sure he thoroughly agrees with you," sneered Mrs. Barwell. + +"And why is he not in the Army?" + +"Well, it is all owing to his stepmother," explained Mrs. Palgrave. +"George knows his father, Colonel Salwey, such a smart dapper old beau. +He came in for a very nice property after he left the Army; his wife +died, leaving this one boy, to whom he was apparently devoted." + +"_Was_--yes?" + +"But at some foreign watering-place he came across a pretty little +fluffy-haired, plaintive widow, who beguiled him into marrying her, +and completely metamorphosed the old gentleman. Brian Salwey failed +for his first examination at Sandhurst; then he quarrelled with his +odious stepmother, so got no second chance. She bundled him out of his +father's house, out of the country, and into the Indian police: for she +did not want a great big stepson hanging about at home." + +"Oh, here they all come," exclaimed Mrs. Barwell, as five men followed +one another into the room. + +The first to enter was Colonel Palgrave, a tall, handsome, soldierly +man, a little bald, with a hearty, cheery voice; Major Barwell, +a short, formal-looking gentleman, with a skin like a winter +apple--considerably older than his wife; Captain Prescott, a dark young +man, in polo kit, with a sallow complexion; Charles Young, a handsome +boy--though two-and-twenty, he looked about nineteen--bubbling over +with good humour, vitality, and _joie de vivre_. Last, not least, Brian +Salwey. + +These men soon dispersed themselves about the room, each seeking the +lady of his choice (they were all apparently acquainted with Dominga +Chandos--and perhaps a little surprised to find her in the present +company; when Charlie's merry eyes fell on her, he blushed up to his +ears), and presently the talk grew loud and brisk, concerning "shop" +and theatricals, theatricals and "shop." + +"I do think it is such a shame," said Mrs. Barwell, during a pause in +the general buzz, "that my husband won't allow _me_ to act," and she +looked at him coquettishly. "It is really too bad of you, Bingham, +to have such strict old-fashioned ideas. I know"--addressing the +company--"you all have such fun at the rehearsals." + +"I don't know what _you_ call fun," remarked Captain Prescott, with +an aggrieved air. "It's worse than being at school again. I had to +mug up my part with a wet towel round my head. I worked myself up to +a tremendous pitch for a great love scene, and was told for my pains +that my voice sounded for all the world like a dog, whining outside a +door!--so naturally I chucked." + +"Oh, I assure you, it's not all beer and skittles, Mrs. Barwell," +supplemented Charles Young, who was half sitting on a table. "What _do_ +you think. They want me to cut off my moustache!" + +At this there was a roar of laughter, his moustache being represented +by a very faint outline of delicate down. + +"Well, now, I suppose we ought to go on to the polo," said Colonel +Palgrave, putting down his tea-cup, "perhaps we shall lose something +good." + +Mrs. Barwell immediately agreed, hurried into her bedroom, and +returned in a second, in a flowery hat, and the party sallied forth on +foot. Verona found herself walking beside Mrs. Palgrave; she had a good +face and a charmingly sympathetic manner. Verona had heard that the +wife of the commanding officer was a most popular lady, and Blanche's +tale, that she and the major's wife did not speak, was obviously a +fable. + +Mrs. Palgrave, although but eight-and-thirty years of age, was a deputy +parent to all "the boys." She listened to their troubles, and had them +to dine on Sundays; she nursed them when they were ill; she wrote to +their mothers, and generally kept her eye on them. She was, moreover, +a treasure to her husband; managed all the sewing clubs and mothers' +meetings, visited hospitals, had never made the slightest effort to +marry her sister in the regiment, and was generally respected and +beloved. + +"I've not seen you before," she remarked to Verona. (But she had heard +of her.) "And now you have found your way into the station, I hope some +day you will come and spend an afternoon with me." + +"Thank you very much," was the girl's non-committal answer. + +She did not wish to mix in station society. + +"I think it is very likely that we have some mutual friends." + +"Perhaps we have." + +"Do you act at all?" + +"No, I prefer to be one of the audience." + +"Then you will come in and see these theatricals, won't you?" + +"By-the-way, Lucy," interrupted Colonel Palgrave, hurrying up to join +them, "I forgot to tell you that young Fielder has arrived; I daresay +he will be at the polo--I'll bring him up and present him to you." + +"Another boy?" she asked, with a smile. + +"Well, not exactly, I should say he is six or seven-and-twenty; +you know he comes to us from the Guards, with the reputation of a +lady-killer." + +"The Guards," she repeated. "Really!" + +"I fancy he has been going ahead a bit, and his father, Lord +Highstreet, has sent him out to India to us." + +(Verona lagged behind--surely this intimate sort of conversation was +not intended for her ears.) + +"I see," assented Mrs. Palgrave, "as a sort of punishment. What a +compliment to the regiment!" + +"Well, the exchange has been effected merely with the idea of getting +him into another set." + +"You have seen him, of course?" + +"Oh, yes, and he has no resemblance to one's preconceived idea of a +naughty boy--perfectly self-possessed, cheery, and rather good-looking." + +"Perhaps he may be an acquisition, after all." + +By this time they were at the polo ground. Mrs. Palgrave waited a +moment for Verona, and said: + +"My husband has been telling me about a new officer who has just +joined, a Captain Fielder. We have some chairs and rugs near the +tent--won't you come and sit by me?" + +A large and motley native crowd were assembled on the edge of the +ground, their brilliant red and yellow garments giving a touch of +colour to the scene, and the game was already in full swing. As +Verona accepted Mrs. Palgrave's invitation, she noticed that Dominga +and Mr. Young appeared to have a great deal to say to one another; +unquestionably they had not met for the first time to-day. + +On the contrary, as we know, Charlie Young and Miss Dominga were fast +friends--little Charlie was constantly chaffed about his infatuation +for "Red Chandos," and bore jokes and gibes with a good temper that +discouraged and, at the same time, disarmed his tormentors. + +"I say, I can't tell you how surprised and delighted I was to find you +at Mrs. Barwell's," he murmured, as he walked beside his enchantress. + +"Oh, my sister met her at home," rejoined Dom, in her most off-hand +manner; "that is why we were asked to tea. Verona knows hundreds of +swells. Do tell me what you think? Do you call her pretty?" + +"Oh, yes, uncommonly good-looking, but rather sad--a bit down on her +luck, I should say." + +"People seem to think she will cut out everyone in Rajahpore." + +"Except you. No fear of that, darling." + +"Hush, Charlie, you really _must_ be careful----" + +"Well, tell me about your sister. Where has she been all this time?" + +"At home--living among all the grandees, and so rich--and having such a +good time. But her friend died, and her money went to others--such an +awful shame. She used to know Princes, and Dukes, and Lords." + +"Oh! then I'm afraid we can't do much for her in that line out here. +Our nearest approach is the only son of a lord, who joined the regiment +three days ago." + +"Oh, my! really. Who is he? Do tell me about him, Charlie, dear." + +"Well, his name is Fielder--the Honourable James Fitzalan Egbert +Fielder, son and heir of Lord Highstreet, late of the Guards." + +"Why has he come out to India?" + +"I believe--this is strictly between you and me--he was sent out by +his father because he got into some mess with a lady--he is a great +lady's man. He wanted to marry a tremendously frisky widow, years older +than himself. And so his people shoved him out here, to get him out of +harm's way. That's the story. Of course, it may be a lie." + +"What is he like?" + +"Oh, not much to look at--sleek, well-groomed, drawling sort. A cool +hand, I should imagine; says he is awfully keen on seeing active +service. I don't fancy he is up to much of a rough campaign--more of +a fine fellow strolling down Piccadilly. However, he has taken to us +kindly, and professed himself delighted to join the regiment. Not like +that chap who, when he was asked what the new corps was, said, 'I +don't know, but you go from Waterloo--and they have green facings!'" + +"His family are old, I suppose?" enquired Dominga, to whom this +anecdote was the purest Greek. + +"Old--oh, lord, yes! I expect they paddled over with the Conqueror." + +"We are an old family, too," announced Miss Dominga, turning her head +slowly from side to side. "Though father never talks--he is in the +Landed Gentry book--you can see it at the Club--and we are the Chandos +of Charne." + +Little Mr. Young, much as he adored his companion, could scarcely +restrain a smile, to hear a Chandos of Manora boasting in this fashion. +Her people were terrible. No, he never attempted to defend them. Her +quarrelling, pushing, half-caste mother, her dusky brother and sister, +her father--the old broken officer, who, it was said, took opium. + +But his Dominga stood apart from these. She shone like a star against +a dark sky. Some day he would marry her--not her family. Yes, the +infatuated youth, aged twenty-two, with one hundred pounds a year and +his pay, had determined to make Dominga his wife. Their engagement was +to be kept secret until the regiment moved to another station--the +Colonel would cut up rusty if he heard of it, and hustle him off to the +depôt in England; he objected to married subalterns. The Honourable +Jimmy was dispatched to India because he wanted to marry someone at +home--and it would be odd if he was packed off home because he intended +to marry a girl in India. + +Whilst he was pondering over this idea, his fair ladylove, who strolled +beside him, was occupied with other thoughts. She was unusually silent, +and when she did speak, her answers were somewhat brief and distrait. + +At the present moment her glance was alert with excitable watchfulness, +and her mind was filled with eager speculations respecting the +newcomer. Had luck at last thrown fortune in her way? Was this young +future lord her fate? Her fate, come to seek her in this out-of-the-way +corner of the world! Her face looked vivid and her eyes dilated as she +recalled her grandmother's prediction, that "Dominga would wear jewels, +and stand in a great light." And what of Baby Charles? + +By this time they had arrived at the polo ground, where a place near +the tent was reserved exclusively for the party. Captain Prescott rode +up to them proudly on his new polo pony, a recent investment. + +"Hullo, Prescott," cried Charlie Young; "where did you rise the animal? +Did you get him out of the Zoo?" + +"Yes," he rejoined, with the utmost gravity; "don't you remember him +when you were in the monkey-house?" + +Dominga received this sally with a peal of laughter--this sort of wit +appealed to her at once. + +And Verona now saw Dominga in the society of men for the first time. +She appeared to be enjoying herself prodigiously, and was what may be +called "a quarrelsome flirt." Tossing her head, she said to one: + +"Oh, Mr. Cox, I am not going to speak to you! Please pass on. You never +came for that set of tennis. No! no! no!" and she turned her back +on him with considerable dramatic effect. "Yes--and here is Captain +Hibbert, just as bad! You wicked, faithless man, how can you look me in +the face! Where is the novel that you promised me? You have fallen in +my esteem to the bottom of the ladder." + +"But won't you allow me to crawl up again?" he implored, with his hands +in the attitude of prayer. + +"No, certainly not; go away--do!" + +By and by most of the men drifted away to play polo, and Major Gale +captured "Baby" Charles, who departed with pitiable reluctance. And +now Dominga and Mrs. Barwell fell into conversation, which, as time +went on, became more intimate and more animated. Dominga's purrings and +flatteries tickled the little lady's vanity and softened her heart; +she discovered that Dominga Chandos was not "half bad," but a really +agreeable girl, with plenty to say for herself, and full of news (such +delicious little spiteful stories). Dominga had learned the fact that +you may be risky--but never dull. Before they parted, Mrs. Barwell had +invited her delighted acquaintance to come in and spend a long day with +her soon. Oh, triumph! Oh, goal attained! Oh, success! + +All at once Colonel Palgrave reappeared out of the crowd near the tent, +accompanied by a young man, wearing the colours of a well-known cricket +club. He had quick, red-brown eyes, sleek brown hair, a pale, impassive +face, and a well-knit figure. He was presented to Mrs. Palgrave and her +sister--to Mrs. Barwell and to Mrs. Tully. The stranger was completely +at his ease, charmed to make their acquaintance, and somehow managed to +convey the singular impression that he was an old resident--and that +they had but just arrived. + +On the whole, the general opinion of Captain Fielder was highly +favourable. "Oh, yes, he was already fascinated with what he had seen +of Rajahpore and India. He was sure it was a capital country for sport, +and," he added, with a peculiar slow smile, "amusement." + +When such topics as his journey, the dust, and a few items of home news +had been exhausted, his roving gaze distinguished the two sisters to +whom he had not been presented. He surveyed Verona calmly. Handsome? +Yes, but down in the mouth, and not his style. Then his glance passed +quickly to Dominga; their eyes met, and his opened suddenly with a bold +eager stare. Oh, there was the girl for his money! What hair! What +colouring! What a spice of the devil in that vivid face. + +Dominga certainly looked her best. She wore green, which was ever +becoming. Her figure was graceful, there was a brilliant colour in +her face, born of excitement; yes, she was undeniably striking and +attractive. Moreover, it was the first time that this poor Dominga +had ever beheld anyone connected with the aristocracy, and her +feelings were a mixture of admiration and awe. "The Honourable," as +she mentally called him, appeared at the first glance to be somewhat +similar to other men, but her imagination lost no time in investing +the newcomer with an air of distinction, and every quality which is +generally considered necessary to the equipment of a perfect hero of +romance. He approached and muttered something to Charlie Young, and Dom +received a delightful and unexpected shock when she understood that +Captain Fielder desired to be presented to her. He had singled her out +from all the other girls! This was indeed the proudest moment in the +life of Dominga Chandos! She coloured charmingly, her eyes sparkled, +her face broke into smiles--for an instant her beauty was transcendent! +Ungrateful Dominga gradually ignored, and soon entirely forgot, poor +little Charlie, and presently abandoned him in order to go and sit on +a distant bench with Captain the Hon. James Fielder, the new arrival, +just then so very much in the public eye; and Dominga took care that +they placed themselves where the public eye could behold them without +unnecessary inconvenience. + +Verona noticed at a distance Mrs. Trotter and her two unattractive +daughters. As they appeared to be rather "out of it," and forlorn, she +walked over and spoke to them. Mrs. Trotter accorded Verona a civil +welcome, and as usual conversed chiefly about home. + +"Oh, ho! it is very plain to see that _you_ have been in England!" +she remarked, as she glanced over at Dominga, who was now too lofty +to notice the Trotters, and had cut them dead. "It is plain that you +know what's what; you have some manners--not like that 'Crannie' girl, +Dominga." + +Fortunately, at this point, Mr. Salwey came up and joined the group, +and the topic was changed. The Trotter family were visibly gratified +by his attention; but after a little conversation he carried off Miss +Chandos, and invited her to walk round the outside of the polo ground +and see the ponies. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVI + + +In the meanwhile Dominga and Captain Fielder lounged on a +bench--conspicuously aloof from the crowd. A somewhat constrained +silence had fallen between them; he was wondering if this handsome +girl, with talking eyes and vivid expression, was "good fun"? She +was meditating as to whether she might treat him as just a common, +every-day officer, or not? Dom had finally made up her mind--as she +looked up quickly and met his full, bold stare, a stare so prolonged +and searching that another girl would have felt affronted and abashed; +not so Dominga. + +"Well?" she asked, raising her eyebrows interrogatively. "Now, tell me +candidly, what do you think of them?" + +"Er--think of what?" he stammered, obviously a little startled. + +"My eyes--what else?" said the girl, with disconcerting bravado. + +"Oh--by Jove! they are splendid. Er--I was not quite sure of the colour +five minutes ago. I'd have sworn they were black; now I see they are +greenish brown----" + +"And in another five minutes they may be a greyish blue--one thing I +can promise, they are never red." + +"Do you never cry? Oh, come now! Every woman cries." + +"Pray, why should I cry?" she asked, with a touch of defiance. + +"But you must have some sort of escape for your feelings?" + +"Not necessarily. I have no feelings." + +"Then you are one of the sights of India! What more uncommon than +a woman who has eyes like a chameleon, who never cries, and has no +feelings? You are a marvel, Miss Chandos!" + +"But I am not really Miss Chandos. I am only number four, and I am +called Dominga." + +"Good heavens--what a name! Where _did_ they find it?" + +"In foreign parts. My grandfather--was Portuguese." + +"Have you no pet name--at home?" + +"They call me 'Dom'--when we are by ourselves." + +"Er--may I call you 'Dom'--when we are by ourselves?" As he spoke +Captain Fielder hitched himself an inch nearer and assumed his most +insinuating expression. + +"This seat is intended for two," she remarked, giving him a little tap +with her parasol. "If you want the whole of it, please say so. As to +calling me 'Dom,'--we shall never be by ourselves again----" + +"Pray why not? Don't you like me?" he asked pathetically. + +"Because," ignoring the second question, "I am not in society." + +"Then I am sorry for society. Why do you call yourself an outsider?" + +"We are--only the sugar people!" + +"Er-r, now I understand my sensations, the instant I saw you; you +looked too sweet for words!" + +"Don't be silly, and please don't run away with the idea that I am +either soft or sweet. I leave that sort of thing to Pussy and Verona." + +"Verona, is a town--Dominga, I _think_, is an island; Has your mother a +craze for geography?" + +"Verona's name is really Veronica." + +"Why have you such--curious names?" + +"Can't you guess?" she asked, looking at him out of the corner of her +eyes. + +Her companion shook his head in hopeless ignorance. + +"Then I will tell you, and when you know us better you will see how +well our names fit! We are called after two saints!" + +Captain Fielder's broad grin and incredulous wink went a long way in +advancing his intimacy with this lively companion. + +"Now, tell me, why are you so down on yourself? It's a mistake--you +should leave that sort of thing to other people--they do it so _much_ +better. You said you were not sweet, and that you have no feelings. I +am sure you were wrong." + +"No----" + +"Er--well, I won't take your word for it; I mean to find out for +myself." + +"You will not have the opportunity. After to-day the station +ladies--who are very jealous of me----" + +"By Jove, I don't wonder at that!" he interpolated with decision. + +"Will fence you in--with barbed wire!" + +"Oh--will they?" with a derisive laugh. "It is not very easy to keep +Jimmy Fielder in bounds! Ask papa?" + +"See--they are all staring over here now," and she pointed with her +parasol. "They are ready to tear my eyes out." + +"I'll take care of your beautiful and matchless eyes. You just leave +them to me." + +"I can take pretty good care of myself, thank you. What do you think of +Rajahpore, Captain Fielder?" + +"I adore it already." + +"What a ridiculous answer. Why?" + +"Because it has made me acquainted with you." + +"How can you be so silly?" + +"I was born so. Tell me, how do _you_ put in your time here?" + +"Oh--I sing a good deal, I have a wonderful voice--and I bicycle, +and--I read--and play tennis." + +"Can you read--French?" + +"Why, of course." + +"Then I can lend you some ripping novels!" + +"No, thank you," rather stiffly; assume a virtue if you have it not. +Dom had once laboured through a few French exercises, and could no more +read a page than ride a steeplechase. + +But Jimmy was promptly taken in, and impressed. + +"Proper, good little girl! Well, I must confess--some of them--are--a +bit--strong." + +"You would not lend them to your sisters, I presume?" adopting her +well-known quarrelsome attitude, "though you offer them to _me_." + +"Oh, I've no sisters, thank the Lord! As to offering the books--you +might have jumped at them. I did not know what sort you were. You see, +a fellow never can tell----" + +"I see Verona looking this way. She is coming to fetch me----" + +"Er--is she your keeper? Has she got you on the chain?" + +"No; I should pity her if she had!" + +"Then you and I are in sympathy--a pair of bold, independent spirits. +When shall I see you again--Dom?" + +"Perhaps to-morrow at the Club." + +"Oh, so you come to the Club. Hurrah!" + +"Yes, for books and tennis; but we are complete outsiders, as you will +soon discover." + +"You will never be an outsider to me, Dom--already you have your +place----" + +"What do you mean?" she demanded. "What place?" + +"Only the box seat in my heart." + +"Heart!" she repeated with a scornful laugh. "No one talks of hearts in +these days--except the heroes of stories in penny magazines." + +As she spoke Dominga rose, and drew herself to her full height. She was +two inches taller than Jimmy, who gazed at her in profound admiration. +Yes; already he was caught and enthralled by her audacity and +insolence, and entangled in the meshes of her splendid burnished hair. + +"Dom," said Verona as she joined her, "it is past six o'clock, and we +must be going home." + +"Very well," assented Dominga, "I am ready." But she did not attempt +to make her sister and "Jimmy" known to one another. No, she would +not share the captive of her bow and spear--that is to say, eye and +tongue--she was determined to keep him exclusively to herself. (Dom +knew what girls did, being a most daring and successful poacher!) + +Jimmy stared at this Miss Chandos, who looked and spoke like a +well-bred English lady, and yet was Dominga's own sister. What did +it mean? Dom, with all her charm, spoke with a quaint, half-foreign +accent, and her manners decidedly lacked the repose which stamped the +caste of Vere de Vere, whilst Verona--the other girl, "the slow one," +as he already classed her, was Vere de Vere--and no mistake! + +As Dominga crossed the polo ground attended by her new slave, she +tossed her head and flounced her skirts, and glared at spectators as +much as to say, "Don't you wish you were in my shoes?" When she stepped +into the victoria she leant forward, and smiled with cruel exultation +at the Watkins and the Trotters--they could not fail to have seen "the +Honourable" tucking the dust cover over her knees. They knew that _she_ +had got into society at last! + +As Dominga was driven homewards her body was unquestionably in the +shabby victoria, but her mind was in the seventh heaven! + +"He" had chosen her out from among all the women in the station. "He" +had called her "Dom," and, at parting, had given her fingers a fierce, +emphatic squeeze, from the effects of which they were still tingling! + + + + + CHAPTER XXVII + + +Mrs. Barwell, who had never previously had it in her power to patronise +any one, now thoroughly enjoyed the novel experience. She issued +continual "commands" to Verona and Dominga Chandos, and the latter +waited on her constantly, and soon became an established favourite; her +flatteries were so piquant and unfailing. But Verona disliked attending +the "drawing rooms" of her former acquaintance and present patroness; +she found ample occupation at home, reading with Pussy and Nicky, +rowing with them on the river, bicycling about the district, teaching +her grandmother to knit, and reviving her father's old attachment to +games. Now and then she spent a long evening in his room, playing +piquet, or discussing books and places and people. Paul Chandos was +a well-read man, a cultivated and delightful companion; strange that +this cultivated, clear-headed gentleman should start and shrivel into +silence when he heard the sound of his wife's quick footfall and +rasping tongue! Undoubtedly he enjoyed these evening hours with Verona, +but she had an instinct that these _tête-à-têtes_ were not looked +upon with favour by her mother; indeed, she had a secret, a dreadful +conviction that her mother disliked her. In little indescribable ways, +this fact was brought home to her a dozen times a day. + +When Verona had recovered from the paralysing shock of her first +sensations, and after her illness had crept back to life and good +resolutions, she made a bold effort to win her mother's affections. + +In every possible way she endeavoured to capture her approval. She +worked in the garden, she mended, and made, and darned and trimmed. +She was prepared to accept cheerfully this life of renunciation and +self-denial; but oh! how dark and dreary it would be without a little +love. Her mother was devoted to Dominga; her eyes and voice seemed +different when she spoke to her. Why should she not venture to ask for +some crumbs; she, too, was her mother's daughter? Though not naturally +demonstrative, she one day astonished and exasperated Mrs. Chandos by +clinging to her with tears as she begged her "to spare her--though she +came so late--a little of the affection she gave to the others; it +would make her _so_ happy." + +Mrs. Chandos, when she had recovered from her surprise, stared +critically at her daughter and exclaimed, "My, what a funny girl! Why, +of course I love you!" and she accorded her a hasty kiss. "You get lots +of love; your Nani is awfully fond of you--so is Pussy; so am I. No!" + +But yet, in spite of this declaration, Verona felt that between her and +her mother was fixed a gulf, which widened daily; indeed, she still had +the dreadful, secret conviction that her mother actually disliked her. +But why? + +Sometimes, her father was ill--so said Mrs. Lopez; sometimes for three +or four evenings his door would be shut fast, and the old lady would +assure her, with a potent nod, that "Chandos was not for reading; he +was _fatigued_, he was 'a little seek,' and wanted to be quiet," and +once the girl overheard her mutter, "Truly, it is easier to be rid of +your shadow, than a bad habit." + +Poor man! he was in the grip of the opium fiend, and lived in a +delightful dream-country in his arm-chair, with drowsy eyes and folded, +wasted hands. After one of these attacks, Verona noticed that his +features were haggard, his eyes dull and bloodshot, his spirits most +desperately depressed; also, that all tender inquiries and expressions +of sympathy were somewhat curtly set aside. + +It was now the very height of the cold season. Rajahpore was full, the +cane crop was being cut, and every one seemed busy. One day Mrs. Lepell +sent her protégée a little note, which said: + + "MY DEAR VERONA,-- + + "Would you care to go over the factory? I am expecting a party + this afternoon, and Tom has promised to show them round the works. + Manora people are sick of them, but it will be a novelty to you. + + "E. L." + +Verona accepted the invitation with pleasure, and when she arrived +at the big bungalow there found assembled Major Gale, Major and Mrs. +Barwell, Mr. Salwey and various strangers from Rajahpore. Mr. Lepell +personally conducted the party round the yards; here he pointed out the +great carts, laden with sugar-cane, just brought in by buffaloes. + +"Now, here you see it at the start," he said. "Later on, you shall see +it in the sugar bowl." + +Guided by him the visitors explored the entire factory--saw the mills +grinding the cane, saw the black sugar in liquid form, the refining +processes, the furnaces; last of all, the loaf sugar in blue paper +caps, ready for departure. Then they inspected the distillery, and the +gigantic casks of rum--intended for the use of the army. Mr. Lepell was +an enthusiast, and harangued his guests eloquently--"Sugar" was his +text--then he gave them a long object-lesson in machinery; finally, +they climbed up a winding, spiral staircase, and stood on the flat roof +of the factory, and surveyed the whole country--a dead level, with +nothing to break the monotony but an occasional village or mango tope. + +"Oh, what a sea of cultivation and crops!" exclaimed Verona. + +"Yes," assented Mr. Lepell; "India is agriculture, agriculture is +India. All around you see the cane; it is a good year. The chief +industry here, of course, is sugar. There are scores of private mills." + +"What are they like?" some one asked. + +"Oh, primitive affairs--a rude wheel, an ox driven round and round to +crush the cane; then there is a hole in the floor, and a furnace to +boil the stuff into goor, or treacle." + +"I suppose the people are very well off," said Verona, turning to Mr. +Salwey. + +"They ought to be," he replied; "the cultivators pay about fifteen +rupees an acre for cane, which in a good season produces two or three +hundred rupees' worth of juice; but they are all in debt to the +money-lenders." + +"How is that?" + +"Well, you see they have no savings or capital; they live hand to +mouth. For a marriage, a birth or a funeral, they must spend largely; +it is a tradition handed down for centuries; they borrow money on the +coming crop, say two hundred rupees--that is fifteen pounds. For this +the money-lender takes as interest, one anna per rupee per month, +which is seventy per cent.; it runs up like the celebrated nail in +the horse's shoe! The unfortunate ryot soon finds that the interest +has trebled the original debt; in a short time the account will show +that all the money due from his harvest, does not half cover the first +advance! and still the interest on the debt rolls on month after +month. The cultivator who once pawns his crop never gets out of the +money-lender's power, but the money-lender allows him enough grain +to keep the wretched man alive--who, sooner than be turned from his +paternal home, becomes his bond slave for life." + +"Is it not dreadful?" Verona exclaimed. + +"Yes; the usurer makes enormous profits, and allows the other just what +keeps soul and body together. He is careful not to kill the goose who +lays the golden eggs--his manner is always most kind and sympathetic! +The old story of burying money in a pot is dying out; usury has taken +its place. Most of the money paid down in that office," and he nodded +to the building below, "goes to them." + +"Can it not be prevented in some way, Mr. Salwey?" + +"I'm always trying to stop it, but with little success; there are men +in the city, living at their ease, and piling up thousands, while +these"--pointing to the broad expanse of cane land and the swarms of +workers below--"toil." + +"Usury is the ancient custom of the country," she remarked. + +"So was once suttee. It is the curse of India." + +"Do you know any of the money-lenders?" + +"Yes; some of the native bankers are fair and square. It is the private +ones, who are the fiends. They have neither fear nor pity. They charge +daily interest, they count their victims by hundreds--their slaves; for +generations they toil always for the money-lender; children succeed to +the family debts, which go from father to son; they represent valuable +live asset to the soucar, who fattens on their earnings! His only fear +or risk is the cholera, which sweeps away whole villages, and then +there is none left to pay! Many of these poor creatures do not know +what it is to have two meals a day. I could not have believed, had I +not seen it for myself, how abject is their poverty." Here he smothered +a sigh. + +"What a hopeless state of affairs!" exclaimed the girl. + +"Yes; and they are content with so little. If a man has enough to eat, +a roof to cover him, a little tobacco for himself and some pewter +bangles for his wife, he asks no more." + +"He could not well ask for less!" + +"I declare I feel in a blazing rage when I think of his misery +and toil, and the wealth and indolence of those who are literally +devouring his life. Now, observe the people coming in with carts of +cane and barrels of juice; they are almost like skeletons, or is it +my imagination? There, you see, two of them are quarrelling about +something--possibly a copper coin, worth half a farthing. They often +quarrel; it is one of the most quarrelsome circles in India." + +"What do they quarrel about?" she asked. + +"I can tell you," said Mr. Lepell, who was listening, "generally land. +In other countries people are attached to their ancestral acres; in +India it is a mania." + +"Have they never any amusements?" inquired Mrs. Barwell, who had +approached. + +"Yes; those who are pretty well off excel in wrestling matches; they +have quail and cock-fighting, and they are all fond of cards and +gambling and kite flying," said Mr. Lepell, "and now shall we go down +to tea?" + +Salwey and Verona still lingered on the roof; she was taking a last +long look at the scene, the winding river, the cane crops, the little +villages, the distant city. In the golden rays of a gorgeous sunset +India looked both rich and prosperous. + +"Well, what do you think of it?" inquired Salwey. + +"I like it," she answered; "it is my native country; there is something +mysterious and fascinating about it. Even before I knew that I was born +out here, I yearned to come to India." + +"In short, you heard the East calling." + +"Yes," she replied, "and now I hear Mr. Lepell calling, and we must go." + + * * * * * + +Brian Salwey lived in a bungalow overhanging the river, and close to +the cantonments (he was honorary member of the mess). The rooms were +small and bare, but the stables were ample, and handsomely furnished. +Twice a week, in the cold weather, did Nicky Chandos row down the river +to do an hour's mathematics with his model and hero. Salwey had always +been sorry for the boy, and felt drawn to him; for with all his Eastern +lounging ways, his stiff brown hair and sallow skin, Nicky had brains, +had ambition and the inherited instincts of an English gentleman. Yes, +Salwey had encouraged the visits of young Chandos; he told him long +yarns about his own school-days, he lent him books, he lectured him, +he taught him how to row a boat--indeed, he taught him many things as +they sat together in the shabby little sitting-room that overlooked the +shining river. Salwey now began to realise that he took an additional +interest in Nicky, and looked forward with peculiar pleasure to his +visits and his talk; What, he asked himself honestly, did it mean? + +The answer was simple as A B C. + +It meant that Nicky had an attractive sister; to sum it all up in one +word, it meant "Verona." He caught his thoughts recalling her pale, +delicate beauty, her slow, reluctant smile, her air of detached, +unstudied repose. Evidently the newcomer was working wonders up +the river; she was wheeling Pussy into line; he noticed a distinct +improvement in Nicky's manners, which had previously left much to be +desired. He talked of good sets of tennis, and bicycling, rowing and +reading aloud. Home was such a jolly place since Verona had come! There +was no nonsense about her, and even Nani Lopez said she was "a jewel." + +But what was this "jewel" to him? Was he going to make a fool of +himself, and fall in love with this beautiful, unfortunate Eurasian? +What a mother-in-law! What a grandmother-in-law--as his Aunt Liz had +reminded him. And yet, why should he not think of Verona Chandos? His +life was lonely; he had no ties; his father had married a detestable +little adventuress, and had allowed her to thrust herself between them. + +(Colonel Salwey was a timidly good man, and ventured to write to his +son once a year--at Christmas.) + +Why should he not make his home in India? Do as he would, he could +not get the girl out of his head; she haunted him as he sat in his +verandah, or as he rode about the district, looking after his work. +"She is a half-caste," whispered a warning voice; "look at her sister +Blanche." + +On the other hand, old Mother Lopez was a truly good woman, +tender-hearted, simple and charitable. Little Mrs. Cavalho was in her +way an uncanonised saint. If the truth were really known and boldly +proclaimed, there was a certain amount of Eastern blood to be found in +English society! Many unconscious individuals were Eurasians, counting +back to the pagoda tree days of their grandfathers, and the spacious +times of Old John Company. If one must judge by appearances, Verona +Chandos might very easily be taken for the daughter of a hundred earls, +and, at any rate, on her father's side, her race was undeniable. + +Here came Nicky, rowing himself down from Manora, eager to enjoy +a promised lesson in practical chemistry, for Salwey dabbled in +photography and chemistry, and between his dark room and his amateur +laboratory, the vapours, sounds and explosions, one or two of his +myrmidons were under the impression that he kept an evil spirit on the +premises! + +A white bull terrier, called "Chum," the most intelligent and attached +of dumb friends, when he saw Inky Chandos toiling up the steep garden +from the boat, lashed his long whip tail, where he sat in the verandah, +and greeted him with an all but human grin of welcome. "Chum" was a +dear dog, and a courteous gentleman; the whole cantonment loved "Chum." +But he only loved his master--and Inky Chandos. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVIII + + +It was the second week in January, the date of the Rajahpore +race-meeting, the one notable local event in the year. Every bungalow +in the station had several tents pitched in its compound for the +accommodation of guests; the Rest House was crammed; strange faces +were to be seen at the Club, and strings of unfamiliar ponies were +being exercised on the course. The great day dawned at last; it was, of +course, brilliantly fine, and the oldest resident was heard to declare +that the events on the cards, the class of entries, and the number +of visitors, had never been approached. Such a fête was naturally a +proper occasion for Mrs. Chandos to make an ostentatious appearance in +a wagonette with two horses; and the wagonette, which resembled a gay +parterre, contained the lady herself, Dominga, Pussy, Blanche, Monty, +Nicky, on the box, and last, not least, Verona, who would gladly have +been excused, but was compelled to come forth in her best remaining +dress and a pretty white hat--which fortunately had not happened to +have been becoming to Dominga. + +Mrs. Chandos had secured tickets for the stand, and, previous to the +first event, she and her little clutch fluttered and strutted about +the enclosure with a notable amount of aggressive swagger. Salwey, who +had entered Baber, his black "Waler," for a hurdle race, was returning +from the stables when he encountered Verona and Nicky--who were walking +together, apart. + +"I say, would you two like to come into the paddock and see the +horses?" he said. + +They gladly accepted his invitation and accompanied him round the +stables, where he pointed out to them the different celebrities, and +gave a rapid sketch of their several careers, with their failings, +foibles, victories and defeats. Suddenly Verona found herself face to +face with a young man in a long racing coat, whose face seemed familiar. + +"Miss Chandos!" he exclaimed, halting immediately before her, and then +she recognised Captain Haig, who snatched off his cap and held out his +hand, saying: + +"This is, indeed, an unexpected pleasure! Pray, when did you arrive?" + +"Some time ago," she answered. "And you?" + +"Only this morning; I have two ponies entered, one of them a +celebrated performer; her name is"--and he looked at her with steady +significance--"V. C." + +"Oh!" she ejaculated. "What an odd name for a pony." + +"Hallo, Salwey, how are you?" he said; "I did not see you"--then +he glanced interrogatively at the bony, half-caste youth, Salwey's +companion. + +"No," replied Salwey, "and yet I'm generally visible to the naked eye." + +"Miss Chandos and I," explained Captain Haig, "are--I hope I may +say--old friends; we met each other year before last at Homburg. Poor +Madame!" looking at Verona as he spoke, "so she is gone. What a cheery +old lady she was! Shall we take a turn round the paddock? I want to +show you your namesake." The young lady inclined her head and the pair +strolled off, leaving Salwey and Nicky alone. + +"I say," burst out Nicky, "I should not wonder if that fellow is a pal +of Verona's." + +"I should not wonder, either," repeated Salwey, and he became suddenly +silent. Meanwhile, Verona and Captain Haig moved slowly round the +paddock, where she was, as of old times, the cynosure of admiring eyes. + +Captain Haig considered her critically. She looked a little pale and +thin, but was as beautiful, as well turned out, as self-possessed +as ever. There was the same perfection of dress and perfection of +untroubled composure, and he had never forgotten her--so he imagined +now; she had exercised over him a lasting and vivid fascination. + +"I was in two minds about this meeting," he announced; "how glad I am +now I came." + +"Oh, are you?" she murmured vaguely. + +"Yes, I needn't tell you that I would thankfully travel many miles to +see _you_." + +To this over-blown compliment Verona made no reply; she was wondering +what he would say when he saw her mother and sisters! + +In the distance she caught sight of Dominga, splendidly dressed, +boisterous, shrill. A stranger might reasonably have suspected that +this laughing and chattering was the effects of champagne--they would +be mistaken. Dominga was merely intoxicated with her own supreme +happiness, her extraordinary social success. + +"I suppose you are out here for the cold weather?" resumed Captain +Haig. "It is quite the thing to do now." + +"No," she responded, "I am out for altogether--my people live here." + +"Here," he repeated, "how fortunate! How I should like to make their +acquaintance; I hope you will be good enough to present me to your +mother." + +"Certainly," she replied, with a somewhat fixed smile. + +Very soon, she assured herself, there would be an end to this fool's +paradise. It would be a case of he came--he saw--he fled. + +In the meantime she enjoyed walking about with Captain Haig. As +she glanced at his handsome, animated face, she seemed to see the +background of Homburg--the crowds, the bouquets, and to feel the +impression of a past sensation. + +Here, indeed, in a humble way, her presence was creating a stir, "the +other Miss Chandos," as she was now called, being so rarely seen; she +was handsome, and graceful, and carried herself well--"as did most +Eurasians," whispered onlookers. + +In a distant station, no doubt, she would be considered a beauty; +apparently she had picked up some young man she had known at home; +he seemed very much _épris_. Well! her conquest would be but +short-lived--he had but to see her people! + +"Of course, your regiment is still out here?" remarked the lady to her +escort. + +"Yes--in a bad station--where there is no sport--we can't even manœuvre +guns, the ground is all cotton soil--this is a jolly little place, I +wish they'd send us here--capital duck and snipe shooting." + +"Is that a sufficient reason to move troops?" she inquired. + +"No--not at all--only it keeps the mess from grumbling--and the men out +of the bazaar. But," with a sudden change of tone, "I want to hear more +about you, Miss Chandos. How have you spent the last eighteen months?" + +"I was in England till August. I have been here ever since." + +"But you will soon be getting under way for the hills. I wonder what +station you will select?" + +"None at all--we remain down in Manora." + +"What! you are not serious--you have no conception of the heat--it will +kill you!" + +"I think not. I believe one's first hot weather is never very trying." + +"But, I assure you----" + +"Captain Haig," she interrupted, "I see that you have not +heard--Madame's death has made a great change in my circumstances--I am +now quite poor." + +He stopped for a second, and stared back into her face with a gaze of +blank surprise. After an expressive pause he spoke: + +"I can't imagine you--what is called 'poor.'" + +"Often I cannot realise it myself--but it is true--Madame left no +will--I was not related to her--all I have in the world is three +hundred pounds and some diamonds--now"--with a faint smile--"you know +the worst!" + +"What hard luck! I am awfully sorry," he began. + +"Thank you; but it is not so bad after all--I do not mind--much." + +If she, who had been brought up surrounded with all that money could +provide, "did not mind much," why should he? It was not her money which +had attracted him, but her most beautiful, dazzling self; and she was, +in his opinion, more lovely than ever, as she stood looking at him with +her dark pathetic eyes. + +He had recently come in for an unexpected windfall--a legacy of four +hundred a year--he could afford to marry and live quietly; his rapid +brain sketched the programme in a flash, and arranged the details of +his plans with calm celerity; her three hundred pounds would buy the +trousseau, etc., and he would take her to the hills for the honeymoon; +they would go to Cashmere. With Verona in Cashmere! Ah, but would +Verona come? He would have a good try, at any rate! + +"This is a capital little station," he remarked, with a swoop to +mundane matters. + +"At any rate, it seems to have made an immense impression on you," she +rejoined, with a smile; "this is the second time you have praised it +within five minutes!" + +"Yes, so it is. I think after the races I shall stop on--I have some +leave due, I should like to put it in here." + +"And have some duck-shooting?" + +"No--I was--thinking of golf with you--there are links, I know----" + +"Oh, but I never play now." + +"Then you must begin, again--it's splendid exercise. Do you remember +you started me at golf, and I'm now quite a respectable performer. I +wonder," suddenly lowering his voice, "if you remember--something else?" + +They were standing close to the railings which enclosed the course. +Verona looked at him with a hot colour in her face. + +"That I called you my Princess--you are my Princess still----" + +"Haig, Haig!" shouted a man, running up; "what the devil--oh, I beg +pardon"--glancing at the lady--"you are wanted in the weighing-room at +once--come on!" + +"The horses will be going down to the post," he said, turning to his +companion; "allow me to take you back to your seat." + +"No thanks," she rejoined quickly. "I know you are in a great hurry. It +is only a few steps. Please do go." + +"Well, I shall find you again when the race is over. Wish me luck," and +lifting his cap he ran off. + +The crowd was streaming out of the paddock as Verona turned in the same +direction; her heart was beating with unusual speed. He--although he +knew she was now penniless--was anxious to resume the story where it +had been interrupted. At least, he was not mercenary. Formerly she had +liked him--now--now--no--she could not have fallen in love in fifteen +minutes' time--impossible! But circumstances alter cases; at home among +a crowd of suitors he was not distinctive, here he stood forth as a +hero--a champion--it might be a saviour! Undoubtedly he loved her. If +he held out his hand she would accept it, and her release. Her burthen +had become intolerable; her fortitude was ebbing fast. Her mother's +humours, her mother's tongue were distracting; a recent long illness +had weakened her self-command. She felt desperate--and if she did +not love Malcolm Haig now, love would come. Perhaps he would ask her +to marry him--everything pointed that way. But he had not seen her +relations--how would they affect the situation? Formerly, she stood +above him; he was insignificant and impecunious; but at present their +positions were entirely reversed, and _he_ must stoop to marry her. +All these thoughts were chasing one another through her mind as Verona +moved slowly forward, with the intention of joining her family. + +Yes, there they were--in the middle of the second tier; and never +before had they struck her as so dark, so over-dressed, and so +complacent. Blanche, in a scarlet felt hat and a purple velvet bolero, +trimmed with mother-of-pearl (which she had bought second-hand), was an +object that, so to speak, hit one in the eye; and even Pussy's sweet +face, above the pride of her wardrobe, the pink feather boa, had never +looked so dusky. + +"Hullo, Verona!" cried Blanche, half rising as she spoke. Blanche +occasionally gave the impression of being all eyes and teeth. "Do tell +us about the lovely young man you were walking with--who is he?" + +"I knew him at Homburg," she answered; "his name is Haig." + +"Oh, do bring him up and introduce him to _me_!" + +"Haig--Haig," repeated Monty, resplendent in lavender flannel and +a brilliant green tie, examining the card in his hand, "Captain +Haig, Enfield Regiment; he has two ponies--one in thees race, called +Dulcimer, and another, with such a funny name, entered for the Cup--V. +C." + +"V. C. is a ripping good pony," put in Nicky, who affected to be posted +in racing matters; "Salwey says so." + +"Choop! you and your Salwey!" ejaculated his mother with angry energy. + +Meanwhile, Salwey and Captain Haig had ascended to the top of the +stand, field-glasses in hand. + +"No start," remarked Salwey. + +"It's that brute Blue Devil," declared his companion; "he will keep +them there for twenty minutes. I would like to shoot him!" + +"I daresay you would," rejoined Salwey; "he is the favourite, and sold +for a thousand in the lotteries last night." + +"By the way, Salwey, you saw that Miss Chandos? I never was so +astonished as when I came face to face with her in the paddock here; +last time we met she was at Homburg, with every man in the place at her +feet." + +"Including yourself," suggested Salwey. + +"I should rather think so. Of course, a poor devil like me dared not +lift his eyes to fifteen thousand a year." + +"Then she is the original V. C." + +"What a brilliant guess! She tells me her people live here, and has +promised to introduce me." + +"Yes," assented Salwey, with dispassionate brevity. + +"I say, I've got a month's leave owing, and I intend to put it in here." + +"Hullo! they are off!" and there was a dead silence. + +The constantly moving dark clump had suddenly scattered into +items--there was a hum-hum-hum of thundering hoofs--a cloud of dust, a +flight of bright jackets, of bent backs and uplifted arms--they passed +the post, and Dulcimer had won by a neck. + +Captain Haig looked upon his success as a good omen. Beaming with +pride--and the fact of having won eight hundred rupees--he led his pony +into the paddock, and subsequently hurried out to the enclosure in +order to seek for Miss Chandos, and receive her congratulations. + +"Ah, here you are!" he exclaimed, when they met; "I have been hunting +for you everywhere. Did you see the race well?" + +"Yes--you won," she said, "I am so glad." + +"It was a near thing, but Todd is a clever boy, and just pulled it +off. Rajahpore seems to bring me good fortune. I shall make it my head +quarters. When will you be so kind as to introduce me to your people?" + +The words were hardly out of his mouth before he was surrounded by a +crowd of half-castes--they actually pushed and jostled one another in +order to get close to him, and an excited, over-dressed, elderly woman +began: + +"Verona, won't you introduce me to your friend?" + +Although Verona had known that this terrible moment must surely arise, +she grew white to the very lips as she caught the glimmer of horrified +amazement dawning in Captain Haig's blue eyes. Well, she was about to +test his friendship! Would it stand the strain? + +"Captain Haig," she said, and her manner was outwardly composed, "this +is my mother, Mrs. Chandos." + +"O-ah, how do you do?" she said, effusively. "A friend of Verona's, +I see. Oh, we are always awfully pleased to know her friends. Let me +present you to----" here she waved a soiled white-gloved hand: + +"My dater Dominga." Dominga accorded him a smile--and one of her looks! + +"And my dater Bellamina." Bellamina merely giggled hysterically. + +"My married dater Mrs. Montagu Jones, and Mr. Montagu Jones--my son +Nicholas." + +One after the other the family bowed themselves, and shook hands with +him with every evidence of the most cordial satisfaction. + +At first his stupefaction was so complete, that Captain Haig was unable +to utter one single word. + +The beautiful Miss Chandos! the fairy Princess! Oh, she must be under +some spell of enchantment! This wizened little black monkey-faced woman +her mother! These awful half-castes, her sisters! Was he awake or +asleep? + +Salwey and Mrs. Lepell, who were standing close by, understood the +scene, and pitied Verona Chandos from the bottom of their hearts. + +How brave and dignified she was! How high she held her head! One might +have supposed that her mother was a duchess. + +"I am awfullee glad your pony won," said Nicky, in his Chee-chee +accent. "O-ah, my! he ees a good pony!" + +His civil congratulation broke the ice, and Captain Haig recovered +sufficiently to say: + +"Thank you; had you any money on?" + +"Oh, no-ah! oh, my, no-ah," protested Mrs. Chandos. "Poor boy, he does +not bet. Are you staying here?" she continued. "No?" + +"Just for the races," he stammered. + +"Oh, then you must come out and dine with us, and just take us as we +arre. We live at Manora. Now you must not make _any_ excuse"--here +she put her head on one side and nodded in a manner intended to be +fascinating--and which, once upon a time, had produced a gratifying +result! + +"I am engaged to-night, thank you," he answered stiffly. + +"Arl right, then, to-morrow. Come to tiffin to-morrow--you see I will +not let you off." + +"But there are races again to-morrow, you know." + +"My! my! so there arre. Well, the day after tomorrow is Sunday--and +there are no races; and if you do not come to tiffin, I am sure +Verona"--here she glanced at the rigid face on her left--"will be +awfully offended. You come--and bring a friend." + +"Then, thank you, I will come on Sunday. There is the saddling bell, I +really must go!" and in another moment Captain Haig had effected his +escape. + +When next he caught sight of Salwey, he went straight up to him and +began: + +"Good God! I never got such a shock in my life! You are an old friend, +and I think you might have prepared me; I have just had a three-finger +peg of whisky and soda, and even with that I feel completely knocked +out of time. To think of that girl being a half-caste! It seems +impossible! What awful people! Why, her mother is as dark as an ayah! +Who are they?" + +"Her father is in the sugar works at Manora--he was in the cavalry, +and----" + +"See it all," interrupted Haig; "got into a scrape, married a +half-caste--fired out of the Service--social collapse." + +"I presume you are not _now_ contemplating taking a month's leave at +Rajahpore," remarked Salwey, with dry significance. "Seen the family?" + +"Don't rub it in, Salwey, you savage! You cannot understand what a +fearful blow I've just had." He really looked as white and shaken as if +he had recently had a fall. + +"You don't want to meet Miss Verona again?" + +"Oh, I wish to God I'd never seen her at all!" he groaned. + +"She is handsome, not to speak of being a good girl--and a lady. I'm +sorry I cannot say the same for her sister Dominga. I sincerely pity +Miss Verona--the shock you are struggling under is nothing to the shock +she received when she came out--and beheld her parents." + +"Then, she never knew!" + +"Never--if she _had_ known, do you suppose she would have left England? +Cheer up, old man! you'll get over it--we all do." + +"Bosh! you've never had anything to get over--but the measles. I'll +never get over this as long as I live. She tells me that Madame de +Godez left her nothing at all." + +"No, her face is her fortune--her family are her misfortune," rejoined +Salwey, and here he was imperatively claimed by another acquaintance. + +As far as the Chandos family were concerned, the Rajahpore races had +proved a brilliant success. Pussy had been supremely happy, for +Alonzo was present, and they had enjoyed a good deal of chattering and +giggling together (as well as a large packet of conversation lozenges), +and thrice had sallied out arm in arm to the tent, to partake of such +refreshments as lemonade and cake. + +Dominga had attracted a certain amount of flattering attention and won +several bets. Her mother's eyes had followed her with triumph, as in a +long green dress and carrying a white parasol she trailed up and down +the paddock, in company with Mr. Young and Major Gale, D.S.O.; but she +lost sight of her darling during the hour when she sat behind a screen +in the refreshment tent--whispering with Jimmy Fielder. + +Dominga and Jimmy were more than the mere acquaintance they appeared to +be. + +The Station had listened to their occasional chaffing and sparring, +had seen them playing tennis, but never supposed--or suspected--that +the Honourable Jimmy cast a second thought to the diverting and +dashing Dominga. Poor little Baby Charles was her slave; but as +soon as the regiment moved he would cast off her shackles, and no +harm would be done! Deluded Station! Baby Charles was merely the +stalking-horse--behind this harmless and acknowledged "friendship" +Dominga and her new admirer screened a real love affair. In public +they rarely addressed one another, but they made ample amends for this +abstinence on other occasions. Oh, worthy Mrs. Grundy was being cruelly +deceived! + +The first day's racing came to an end. A great deal of money was lost +and won; a great many hopes had been raised and shattered. Brian +Salwey's Baber, splendidly ridden by himself, won the welter race, +but in the supreme event of the day--"the cup,"--the favourite was +hopelessly beaten--alas! the celebrated V.C. was not even placed. + + * * * * * + +Kind-hearted Mrs. Lepell had compassion on the original "V.C." and +drove her home with her in the victoria (in order to save her from +her relatives), and Brian Salwey occupied the front seat. They were +a somewhat silent trio, but as they passed the Chandos family in the +wagonette, their chattering resembled nothing so much as a party of +excited jackdaws! + + * * * * * + +The next day Verona did not attend the meeting; Pussy was chaperoned by +her sister Blanche, and Dominga was the triumphant companion of Mrs. +Barwell. Mrs. Chandos was far too much occupied with preparations for +Sunday's tiffin to spare time for any relaxation. The entertainment +was to be on a sumptuous scale; she went into the bazaar herself, and +bought candied fruit, _pâté de fois gras_, and a fine Europe ham! (in +spite of her chaffering, the latter was an expensive item); it was all +to find favour in the eyes of Verona's lover; but if he would only +marry the girl, and take her off her hands, the Europe ham would be a +well invested outlay. + +Whilst Mrs. Chandos was bargaining in the bazaar, Verona was sitting +with her grandmother in the garden, reading--as the old lady's eager, +but unaccustomed fingers manufactured a woollen necktie. It was the +hour of sunset; birds were squabbling for the best branches--an +artesian well was sending up its final creak--a native was droning as +he shuffled down the road--the smell of wood smoke was in the air. +Mrs. Lopez, who had been buried in thought, now suddenly put down her +knitting and said: + +"Well, so you have been here nearly six months, Verona! and you have +wrought changes. Pussy is improved, so is Nicky; Dom copies the way you +speak, and move; and your father, too, he is different; but you must +not make him too content. No, no, no!" + +"But why not, Nani?" she inquired, with a smile. + +"Because, though your talk is to him as water to a parched-up plant, +yet I must give you a word of warning. Your mother is a leetle, leetle +jealous; she cannot help it, poor girl! but these talks, and readings, +and games are not to her taste. No, no! sometimes when you are sitting +with your father, she is walking up and down the verandah--oh, quite +mad! I have seen her face! No, no, it is not good to look at. So, my +dear child, once a week for these readings--will be plenty--no more." + +"Well, Nani, you know best," agreed Verona, with a sigh. "Come, +Johnny!" Johnny, the squirrel, who was playing among the trellis work +with some young friends, gave a whisk to his tail, and darted down to +his owner, ran up her extended arm and nestled to her cheek. When the +poor girl's heart ached very badly, Johnny's soft caresses and adoring +friendship seemed somehow to deaden the pain. Johnny was now a pretty +little fellow, though smaller than his cousins, who flocked round the +verandah. He associated with them--and he wished them to associate with +Verona. On many an occasion she had entered her room, and found a dozen +squirrels on her dressing-table! (Johnny's home was in a drawer, an +old ramshackle drawer, which had a hole at the back; here he crept in +and slept comfortably among her gloves and handkerchiefs--his nest was +in a red silk necktie.) He frequently entertained company before the +mirror, and no doubt his relations were delighted with his residence, +but the instant his lady appeared, they scampered out. Once Johnny had +been absent for a whole day, but honourably returned at nightfall, and +when Verona heard him pattering in, she felt a thankfulness out of all +proportion to the occasion. She loved Johnny, and could not bear to +lose him. As she stroked his fur now, there was a long silence--she was +thinking of Malcolm Haig's face as she had last seen it. She was firmly +persuaded that she would never look upon it again. She had been mad to +harbour hopes of release. + +"See--see, Verona," said her grandmother, "I have dropped two--three +stitches. Child, has it seemed to you that there is a change in +Dominga?" + +"No, Nani." + +"Well, she has got a lover, or else I am an old fool." + +"What makes you think so?" + +"Many little things. She is quiet, she no longer squabbles--her +thoughts are enough--they are pleasant. She dresses herself for +hours--she writes much--she sees us no more, she is in another world +with her secret. Oh, it is a big one--can you guess?" + +"No; as far as I have seen, Dominga has many admirers, and one--who +is more--little Mr. Young--but she does not care for him. Dominga is +always reserved and mysterious--she likes having secrets." + +"Perhaps she is wise! You know the proverb: 'Never make known one's +wealth, one's remedies, one's lover, where one has hidden money, the +good works one does, the insults one has received, or the debts one has +contracted.'" + +"Dominga makes known her debts, Nani--she owes two hundred rupees in +the bazaar, and is at her wits' end." + +"Chitt! she will coax her mother, and she will pay," rejoined Mrs. +Lopez, with an air of easy confidence; "and here is Rosa coming back. +My, my, what parcels! Oh, she has been spending a lot of money!" +adding, with a laugh, "she will be _so_ cross!" + +The preparation for the tiffin party was on a sumptuous scale; there +was a brand new white cloth--flowers--and dessert. The family wore +their very best garments; even Mr. Chandos had put on a suit of old +blue serge, in order to do honour to Verona's friend. Verona herself, +with two great red spots on her cheeks, inwardly prayed that her +expected guest would not come--and her prayer was answered. + +Half-past one--no Captain Haig--a quarter to two--Nicky ran to the +corner of the tennis ground; the Trotter family were all in their +verandah--for it had not been concealed from them that Mrs. Chandos +expected two officers to tiffin. + +Two o'clock, yet still tarried the wheels of Captain Haig's chariot. A +gloomy silence now descended and settled upon the Chandos family like a +pall. + +Half-past two! a gurrah at the factory struck "three." + +"No-ah, he is not coming," announced Dominga, with a conviction +that tolled the knell of her mother's hopes. Nicky and Dominga were +clamouring for food, and a certain portion of the long-delayed meal +was hastily served. But Mrs. Chandos was too excited to eat; her mind +was dwelling on the triumph of the Trotters, and her costly useless +outlay--unfortunately, she could not return the ham, for it had been +boiled. Her temper, which had been gradually rising like a storm at +sea, now burst, and dashed itself like a tornado upon Verona. It was +not the recreant Captain Haig with whom Mrs. Chandos was furious; his +unlucky friend represented the scapegoat. + +Verona sat white and speechless, whilst her mother overwhelmed her +with a torrent of reproaches for her airs, her uselessness, the heavy +cost of her maintenance, and her most devilish pride. But when once a +Eurasian loses her temper and her self-control, she hardly knows what +she says. The tempest like a typhoon is soon over,--but while it lasts, +it is bad, very bad. + +Mrs. Chandos finally concluded with one of her celebrated screaming +fits, and Mrs. Lopez--well accustomed to these hysterical +outbursts--led her away sobbing and exhausted, in order to console and +soothe her in her own apartment. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIX + + +The band had played the men back to barracks to the rousing tune of +"When Johnny comes marching Home again"; it was eleven o'clock on +Sunday morning, and Captain Haig, who had been to Parade Service, +walked across the maidan to pay a morning call. His thoughts were +still full of one subject--Verona Chandos, and he was anxiously +debating whether to go to Manora or not? The question had kept him +awake for hours; it had harassed him through the Book of Common Prayer, +and the text of the padre's sermon had been, "To go to Manora or not?" +Something in Verona's eyes magnetised him and drew him towards her, to +be instantly driven away by her swarm of terrible relations, and they +really were her own kindred; he had heard all about them at the mess. +Malcolm Haig was on his way to see his cousin (once removed), Jimmy +Fielder, and to have a friendly "bukh" with him in his own diggings. He +knew all about Master Jimmy's affairs, and why he was now languishing +on the plains of India. Lord Highstreet, who was a cast-iron parent of +the so-called old school, had cut off the supplies, and sent his heir +into banishment--sent him to the East in order to be out of harm's +way, for, by all accounts, there were no widows in India. The native +women were very properly burnt, and the Europeans were of the innocuous +species, termed "grass," and not matrimonially dangerous. Captain +Fielder was sprawling on a Bombay chair in the verandah, still clad in +a smart blue silk sleeping suit and a pair of straw bath-slippers, and +was engaged in reading a French novel, and smoking a Russian cigarette. + +"Hullo!" he exclaimed, half rising, as he descried his cousin. + +"Hullo!" repeated the visitor, "so this is what you call going to +church!" + +"There's a chair--here's a box of cigarettes. I never go to +church--within four walls. I believe in parson green fields." + +"So I see," assented Malcolm, as he seated himself and glanced +significantly at the yellow book. + +"You have been, of course--hence this air of virtue. Needs must when C. +O. drives; your tent is pitched in the old man's compound, and you were +under the paternal eye." + +"Bosh!" blowing a cloud. + +"Many in church?" + +"Crowds--rather good singing." + +"Ah! then--Dom Chandos was there." + +"If you mean a tall, pale girl, with a soprano that nearly lifted the +roof--she was----" + +"Isn't it a marvellous voice? It's an awful shame she is lost out +here----" + +"Lost? She seems to know her way about fairly well----" + +"I mean--her voice. If that girl had a chance at home at the Gaiety--or +the halls--she'd become the craze; and she can dance a bit, too----" + +"I knew the other Miss Chandos at home," said Captain +Haig--slowly--knocking the ash off his cigarette in a preoccupied +fashion. "She was the beauty of Homburg." + +"Oh, well, I don't admire her one little bit. A beauty at home is not +a beauty here, and _vice versâ_; I grant you she has a fine pair of +unhappy, dark eyes, but give me her sister. I like a girl with a spice +of the devil----" + +"Cannot say that I do! How are you getting along, Jimmy?" + +"Oh, all right. The pater thought he was sending me to penal +servitude, but it's rather jolly. They are not a bad lot--these +Muffineers--awfully sporting, but it's a rotten regiment. However, the +duty is easy." + +"How do you kill time?" + +"Oh, there's polo, and squash rackets, some fair shooting--duck and +snipe, partridge; quite a lot of small game----" + +"And no other game?--eh, Jimmy? Sport was never in your line. +Piccadilly, Hurlingham, the theatres and halls, used to be your orbit." + +"Oh, I put in my days all right, though the climate undermines my moral +character, and I eat enormously, and sleep many hours. When the hot +weather comes, I'll trek for the hills!" + +"Ah--I hope you won't get into mischief there. Had your father +consulted _me_, I should have told him he was turning you out of the +frying-pan into the fire!" + +"Bah! the pater is only terrified that I should marry, that's all. No +one marries in India--we carry on----" + +"Oh, do you? And--what about Mrs. de Lacy? Have you dropped her?" + +"I wish to goodness she'd drop _me_, Malcolm!" declaiming with uplifted +hand and cigarette. "The pater was right there, though I'm the last man +to tell him so! Nita is awfully up-to-date--plays bridge like a book, +smokes like a chimney, has a ripping good figure--but twelve years, you +know--I say, come, it's a good bit of a start, eh?" + +"On the wrong side--yes. Uncle Horace wrote me a raving letter--he has +a tremendous idea of what he calls 'A suitable alliance.' I fancy I see +him and your father together at the club, wagging their heads over your +'case.' I bet your Uncle Horace prescribed India----" + +"He has never been out, eh?" and Jimmy grinned significantly from +ear to ear. "Well, I can't say I bear the old boy a grudge. I'm glad +I came. Every one does India now; the Taj is as familiar as Charing +Cross. I've been here four months--and the days have just slid along. +I've had a blazing good time!" + +"Ahem! Then--James--I'm much afraid you're at your old games. And +yet--there are not many women of your style in the station----" + +"That's true, oh, observant sage! Find the lady? By the way"--giving +the conversation a sudden twist, "what are you doing to-day?" + +"I don't quite know. Mrs. Chandos--asked me to tiffin----" + +"What infernal cheek!" half sitting up; "you are not going to be such +an ass as to give yourself away like that. If you do, she will nail +you. Who enters there, leaves hope behind." + +"What do you mean----?" + +"Oh, you know--and you know too, that it's no good hankering after +that girl--not a little bit. I grant you she is handsome and ladylike, +but--keep her relations well in your mind's eyes. Think of the future +cousins in the bazaars." + +"Oh, you be hanged! Of course you have never been near the place?" + +"I should say not! The Chandos bungalow is out of bounds; Chandos +himself is a shady old chap, who shows his sense by never leaving +cards on a mess, and never enters the station. His 'Mem Sahib' is all +over the shop, flitting in and out of the club, and hanging on to the +coat-tails of society. Of course we meet her at times in the reading +room, and to speak to. She has a whole clan of brown relations in the +city, called Jones. The man only wants a turban to be a khidmutgar!" + +"Then you don't know them at all?" + +"Oh, yes; I know Dom--she is different; she is not off the cab rank, +and is rare good fun, and says the most amusing and unexpected things. +We are tremendous pals, though I need scarcely remark that we don't +publish the fact on the club notice board, or in the market place." + +"Um--no; but where else----?" + +"We write one another nice little notes. Our post office is a book +in the library--last volume on fourth shelf. It is called 'Two +Kisses'--rather neat, eh--quite my own idea----" + +"Do you merely correspond?" + +"Oh, no," responded Jimmy, with an airy flip of his cigarette, "on +moonlight nights I drive out to Manora after mess; I have a rare +stepper, and the cart has rubber tyres. I wait behind a little tope of +trees for Dom, and we go for a couple of hours' spin. It's all as still +as death and as bright as day; we have the whole country to ourselves. +I'm not a fellow for humbugging about scenery, and the picturesque, +but I tell you, Malcolm, that there's something in the quiet, still, +spreading plains--with a silver shine on them, and the river here +and there--flashing at one like a looking glass--that makes me feel +quite--er--er--enthusiastic--and impressed, and all that sort of +thing!" + +"Oh! and I should like to know how Mr. Chandos would be impressed and +all that sort of thing, if he met you and his daughter scouring the +country in the middle of the night?" + +"Bless your heart, there's not a soul in the secret but my syce. We +always get home all right, and Dom creeps in as easily as a roof cat." + +"If you will take my advice, Master Jimmy, you won't go _too_ far." + +"Ten to fifteen miles is our limit----" + +"Oh, shut up! You know what I mean; that girl, by the look of her, has +the real tropical temperament. If you play any of your tricks you will +find yourself in the wrong box! Unless I'm mistaken, Nature has given +her teeth and claws, and the power to use them. Mind you, it's not for +nothing she's called the Red Cat--and I never trust any one with that +particular shade of red hair----" + +"Red hair! Come, I like that! And what about your own crop of carrots, +my boy? I admire Dom's hair; it is splendid--the true Venetian colour, +whilst you are on the ginger shade----" + +"Carrots and ginger! What mixed metaphors!" + +"No! vegetables both! I grant you that Dom is not an everyday girl; she +is quick and all alive, O! and she never bores, but keeps your wits on +the stretch all the time. She is not a bit like any woman I have ever +met before, and that is what appeals to me. She is awfully plucky, too. +One night we drove over a buffalo, and were pitched out on the road, +and, I give you my word, she simply shrieked with laughter." + +"Pray, what is going to be the end of this?" inquired his cousin in a +cool, judicial tone. + +"Oh, I don't know----" + +"Still in the early chapters of the romance, eh----?" + +"Yes; when it begins to get a bit--er--dull, and we are bored--we will +say ta-ta; that's all!" + +"All?" ejaculated his visitor. + +"Well--I say, hang it, Malcolm! A fellow must have some amusement!" + +"Play to you, and death to her--reputation." + +"Oh, Dom will take good right care of that--I tell you----" + +"And I tell you that if you play fast and loose with Dom she is just +the sort of girl that would--kill you!" + +"Oh, Lord! here we have a five-act tragedy in two lines! A tragedy +generally makes me howl with laughter. Well, now I must go in, and +shave and dress. I say, if you like, I'll drive you round by Manora +this afternoon. It's a pretty sort of settlement--lots of trees and +greenery--on the river side. We won't stop, but I will point you out +the roof which shelters the Misses Chandos--your lady love, and mine!" + +And tossing the end of his cigarette into a bush, he called for his +boy, and disappeared indoors. + + + + + CHAPTER XXX + + +That same Sunday afternoon Mrs. Chandos, having recovered from her +"seizure" went out into the front garden in order to "eat the air" in +solitude. The Trotters were also abroad, but she turned her back upon +them, and walked down the little drive and gazed along the road with +an expression of grim resentment. But what was this which she beheld +speeding towards her? A grey stepping horse, a dog-cart, and two +gentlemen--and at what a pace they came! Indeed, they were all but past +before the driver discovered her, and pulled the grey on his haunches. + +"Oh, good day, Mrs. Chandos," said Captain Haig; "I am so awfully sorry +I was not able to come to tiffin. I was--prevented," here Jimmy gave +him an approving nudge, "from accepting your kind invitation." + +"Aye, and so you have come to tea instead. All right, come in--come +in----" + +"I am afraid we cannot wait, thank you." + +"Oh, my! but why not? The girls are at home," and she put her hand on +the wheel of the cart as if she would detain them by physical force. + +Captain Haig merely shook his head. + +"And poor Verona will be _so_ disappointed," urged the persistent +matron. + +"I am sorry, Mrs. Chandos," interposed Jimmy, leaning across, "but I +must really take him away. We have an important engagement." + +"Ah, but here is Dominga!" cried her mother in a tone of triumph, as +Dom, in a French muslin costume, came flitting to the gate. + +"You know my daughter, Dominga, Captain Haig?" + +Dominga immediately took her mother's place, and began to converse with +Jimmy, whilst Mrs. Chandos stood aside and contemplated the scene with +a bursting heart. She had hoped for a mere captain, but here was "the +Honourable" talking away to Dom as if he had known her all his life! +And the Trotters were staring over the wall, like so many stuck pigs. + +In another moment the grey horse had sprung forward, and the ecstatic +vision was swept from her contemplation. Still there yet remained +the Trotters! She turned herself about, looked at them with rude +significance, and nodded with imperial condescension. Who would +suppose, from her manner, that her neighbour was a close, intimate +friend of many years' standing, and had once nursed her like a sister, +when she and Nani were both down with jaundice? + +No, no; she had forgotten all that. Those common Trotter people must be +taught their place, and with this determination Mrs. Chandos proceeded +indoors. + +On Sunday evening the chaplain from Rajahpore held service in the +little conventicle at Manora; his congregation consisted of the sugar +people and a few native Christians. On this particular day Pussy and +Nicky were the sole representatives of the Chandos household. As Mrs. +Lepell and her nephew were walking homewards they overtook the pair. + +"Pray what has become of Verona this evening?" inquired the lady. + +"She has such a bad headache!" + +"That is unusual. What has given it to her?" + +"Crying, I think," replied the ever indiscreet Pussy. "She cried a lot +this afternoon." + +"I hope she has not had bad news?" + +"Oh, no--ah! but mother asked a friend of hers to lunch--that Captain +Haig--and he never came," announced Pussy, regardless of her brother's +angry nip. "And mother was so vexed." + +"Poor Verona!" said Mrs. Lepell to herself, as they came to the gate of +the Chandos abode. + +"Look here, Pussy, will you run in and ask your mother if you and +Verona may come over to dinner? It will cheer up your sister. Don't be +long, like a good girl." + +As they waited, she turned to her nephew and said: "Poor girl, I +suppose he could not face them! Brian, what makes you look so solemn?" + +"My sins and the sermon," he answered with a short laugh. "By the way, +Aunt Liz, I'm on the track of those jewels; I believe I've got a clue, +but mum's the word." + +At this moment they were joined by Pussy, who panted out, "Thanks +awfully, Mrs. Lepell; we may both come." + +At dinner that evening Verona was unusually white and silent. "So," +said Salwey to himself, "she has been crying for that fellow. Little +she knows how Pussy let her namesake out of the bag." + +The chief part of the conversation was sustained by Mr. Lepell and +Pussy, who, though a little daunted by the entrées and coloured wine +glasses, was much elated to find herself dining in the big house. Her +host noted how she was improved; she had ceased to giggle at the end +of every sentence, and was really quite a pretty girl, with her liquid +dark eyes, beautiful teeth and radiant smile. + +Mr. Lepell was astonished when he realized that this sparkling, +happy-looking guest was only little Pussy Chandos! They were discussing +dreams, and during a lull in the talk her thin staccato tones were +heard saying: "Oh, I do dream such strange dreams! They seem so real! +Two or three times I dream of Dominga--always the same; she walks +through my room in her hat with a wrap on her arm--just as if she was +there. Last week I dreamt of her, and I called out, and she put her +finger on her lips and was gone. Now, what can it mean, do you think?" + +One of the khidmutgars in waiting caught the eye of his mate. _They_ +knew, but this by-play was lost on the company--with one exception. + +"Did you tell your sister of these visions?" inquired Salwey. + +"Oh, yes; and she said it was only nightmare. I think I had been having +too much curried fish--I'm awfully fond of curry; when I see curry I +must eat it." + +"Now, Brian," said his aunt, "you have scarcely opened your lips--do +amuse us! What are you looking so glum about? If you are thinking of +the usurers, I will allow you to take a short canter on your hobby." + +"It's nothing to joke about, Aunt Liz," rejoined Salwey, suddenly +rousing himself. "You know old Hirzat Sing--they have sold him up at +last!" + +"Oh, no! Poor old fellow--he has been in difficulties for years!" + +"Yes," assented her husband; "he borrowed money for his son's wedding, +and it was his ruin. His son is dead, and he has been getting +deeper and deeper into debt every year. A slave to the soil and the +money-lender--working from dawn to dark to keep himself and his wife +alive--and feed the daughter of the horse-leech." + +"One would suppose he could throw off the yoke, and the strangling +hundred per cent., and go elsewhere," said Mrs. Lepell. + +"He is too old," replied Salwey, "and he would say, 'Kahn +jaga?'--whither shall I go? He clings to his ancestral acres with the +extraordinary love of home, which is a passion in a Hindoo. There is a +saying, 'The rent is heavy, the debts are many, but still he loves his +field.' Now that Hirzat Sing is getting infirm and stiff, and his wife +is blind, he is of no further use to the soucar, who has thrust him +from his home, after making hundreds, aye, thousands of rupees out of +him. The original debt was but two hundred and fifty; now he will end +his days as a bazaar mendicant, after slaving for sixty years." + +"This is very bad, Brian; can you do nothing?" + +"I'm afraid not, Aunt Liz; poor old Hirzat Sing is in the grip of +Saloo--a notable money-lender known only to us by name; I believe he +lives in Poona, but his meshes are all over the district, and he does +his business secretly; he is the most fierce and rapacious of the whole +lot. Once or twice I've thought I had him. I believe from what I hear +that the wretch has no less than five hundred victims on his books--in +his web, I should say." + +"Poor old Hirzat Sing!" said Mrs. Lepell. "I shall look him up +to-morrow. We could get him some job about the place, eh, Tom?" + +"Yes, my dear; but already we are fairly well supplied with your +_protégés_." + +"Don't be horrid, Tom. I have, and so have you, the greatest respect +for Hirzat Sing. He is one of Nature's noblemen." + +"And I have to find him some job--such as weeding or sweeping--at five +rupees a month. Well, I'll do what I can." + +"By the way, Miss Verona," turning to his silent, sad-faced guest, "I +saw in _The Times_ the death of a Chandos of Charne Hall. I believe +he's related to your father? I am not sure--but I think he is his +cousin." + +"Oh my, yes; it must be father's cousin," burst in Pussy. "He never +speaks of him, but mother does; she says he was such--a--thief and a +budmash--he--ought to have been put in jail!" + +"Pussy!" remonstrated her sister. + +"If it is Sidney, it will make a great difference to your father," +continued Mr. Lepell, addressing Verona. + +"I don't believe anything would make any difference to him," then she +dropped her voice as she added the word "now." + +"Dear me! How dull we have all been!" exclaimed Mrs. Lepell. "I really +think we shall have to introduce the Chinese system of having little +slips of paper inscribed with jokes, which they solemnly hand to each +other during intervals in the conversation." + +"I wish I could remember a few," said Salwey; "but they run in at +one ear and out at the other! I wonder if this would do? A certain +schoolboy was asked, 'Who was Titus?' 'Titus,' he promptly replied, +'was a gentleman who wrote a letter in the Bible. Then, as a Roman +general, he sacked Jerusalem. Subsequently, having adopted the name of +Oates, he headed an abominable insurrection.' How is that, Aunt Liz?" + +"Much too historical and stupid," she said as she rose. "I suppose you +wished to drive us off, and therefore we depart. Good-bye!" + +The three ladies were followed into the verandah by coffee and the men, +and Salwey, drawing up a low chair beside Verona, said: + +"Did you ever see this pretty thing before?" As he spoke he dropped a +ring into her lap. + +She picked it up and exclaimed, "I should think so--my long-lost +property! Where did you find it?" + +"Can you swear to it?" + +"I can do more, if necessary. I was in the shop when auntie bought +it--a black pearl, set in brilliants. I wanted all emeralds, but she +insisted. Look here," and she unpinned a plain, gold safety brooch, "do +you see this?" + +In another moment her nimble fingers had unscrewed the cluster in the +ring, and screwed it into the brooch. + +"There!" handing it back, and slipping the ring on her finger. "It +makes three separate articles--a ring, a brooch, and a bangle. Are you +convinced?" + +"I am. May I have the brooch and ring? And I must ask you to swear to +your property before Uncle Tom, who is a magistrate." + +"Very well, though I feel slightly alarmed; it sounds so formal--and as +if I had been breaking the law." + +"Do you know that you have done an immense service, for you have not +only given me a clue to the recovery of your jewels. This," holding up +the safety-pin, "will get a notorious evil-doer two years' hard labour, +with a shorn head, and chains, in Rajahpore jail. Now, I wish you could +put me on the track of Saloo, the money-lender!" + + + + + CHAPTER XXXI + + +The change in Dominga, which had not escaped the sharp eyes of old +Nani, gradually became visible to her sister. Dom's whole mind was +evidently concentrated on something, or someone--who could that someone +be? She was abstracted, silent and forgetful--at one moment in the +maddest and most unaccountable spirits, at another sunk in the depths +of ferocious gloom. Dominga was in love--and for the first time in her +existence. Ambition and a hungry vanity had impelled her to strain +every effort in order to attract "The Honourable" (as he was called in +Manora), and her aim was accomplished but too easily. On the occasion +of their second meeting he exclaimed: + +"Lovely Dom! won't you be real good friends with me? _won't_ you like +me--and let us see a great deal of one another?" + +This appeal she had laughed at and "pooh-poohed." Now to see "Jimmy" +was all she lived for. She was indifferent to position; she had no +desire to snatch a coronet--all she cared for was Jimmy himself. If +Jimmy ceased to love her, if he were to leave her, the whole world +would become wrapped in darkness--and she would die. + +Meanwhile, none suspected their intimacy. Dom was an accomplished +actress, and full of resource and courage; she concealed an impassioned +love affair behind the cloak of a duly licensed (warranted "harmless") +flirtation with her unhappy dupe, "Baby Charles." + +These two strings to her bow were a severe tax on Dominga. Admirable +performer as she was, she found it difficult to keep both strings in +tune, and to wear an everyday air of smiling self-possession. She +worshipped Jimmy, and with regret, it must be added, that she now +secretly detested Baby Charles. These devastating emotions had their +natural result; she became nervous, thin and restless as the sea +itself; sleep and appetite both left her, and yet Dom retained her +looks--she had a sort of glorified expression; a soft brilliance in her +eyes had replaced their former challenging stare. + +Towards the middle of February the nights were becoming warm. At any +rate, Verona found it difficult to rest; and on more than one occasion +she rose, slipped on her shoes and a long cloak, and set forth to +wander along the old familiar path by the river. The air was cool and +refreshing after a close room (they had not yet begun punkahs), and +one night she was tempted to stroll beyond her usual bounds, towards +a certain lonely spot--the desolate garden of an old bungalow which +had fallen into ruins. This garden was a jungle of trees and creepers; +bamboos, loquats and apricots struggled fiercely for spaces--beautiful +roses, gone mad, threw their shoots in all directions. Here the blue +jay and the golden orioles were undisturbed--it was a wilderness of +flowers and birds, far from the hurry and dust of the outer world. Few +ever passed that way, because the old ruined house had an evil name, +and was reputed to be haunted. Verona had discovered this sanctuary, +and many a half-hour she spent, sitting on the steps of the verandah, +whilst Johnny darted about among the neighbouring branches, and played +on a circular stone platform close by--a "chabootra," where in former +days the family had enjoyed the air and tea--raised a few inches from +undesirable insects, and snakes. To this retreat Verona had now wound +her steps, and as she made her way among the bushes she was aware that +someone else was in the garden--someone who was singing "The Jewel of +Asia." She approached, and thrusting aside the high plumes of the grass +blossoms, beheld a tableau which rooted her to the spot. + +Dominga--on the chabootra--wearing a low evening dress, her hair +crowned by a wreath of passion flowers, was not merely singing, but +dancing! As she sang she held with extended arms her flowing white +skirts, and weaved the most dainty measures. She moved with the true +"bird-like step" and the swaying, undulating grace of her renowned +grandmother, the Nautch girl! + +Naturally Dom was not singing or dancing solely for her own amusement, +or the entertainment of roof cats, owls and night-jars. As she executed +her fairy-like _pas seul_ on the stone platform, the "Honourable," +cigarette in mouth, lounged by the edge of the verandah, and clapped +applause. + +Whilst Verona stood transfixed, this pretty scene fell to pieces, for +Dom, in answer to a gesture from Jimmy, turned, saw her sister, and +uttered a piercing shriek. + +"Hush--sh!" said her companion, rising simultaneously to his feet--and +the occasion. "Quite the time of day to be out--is it not, Miss +Chandos?" sauntering towards her as he spoke. "I wandered over to +Manora, and had the good luck to meet first your sister--and now +yourself!" + +"Oh, Verona!" cried Dominga, "what a fright you did give me! I thought +you were the ghost! You know this place is haunted by those Mutiny +people who were killed here." + +"I assure you that I was equally startled," rejoined the other in a +frosty voice. + +"I suppose you came out for a breath of air--same as myself," continued +Dom, with unsurpassed effrontery--and her fairness was dazzling in the +moonlight. + +A breath of air! and she dressed in her best gauze ball gown--white +satin shoes, and all! + +Verona made no answer, and being painfully conscious of the great +deficiencies of her own toilette, without further formality effected a +rapid retreat. + +"I say! I call that most beastly bad luck," exclaimed Jimmy, looking +after the departing figure. "Does she twig anything?" + +"She must--unless she is an idiot." + +"She won't give us away, Dom! You must make that all right, old girl!" + +"If I can." + +"If you cannot, there will be the devil to pay!" + +"What particular devil?" enquired his lady love. + +"Well, your _father_ might kick up a row." + +Dominga laughed with infinite mockery. + +"Or our old man--who is supposed to keep me under lock and key? You +must square it, won't you, darling?" + +"Of course, I will do whatever you like, Jim. I always do." + +And Verona was fully as uncomfortable as the lovers. She crept guiltily +into bed, and once there her heart beat so fast she could not sleep. +So this was Dom's secret--Jimmy Fielder! How well she had kept it! and +yet how reckless to choose an open spot, not far from the house, for +entrancing her lover with song and dance! + +They must have met frequently--this was no unusual occasion. Verona, +unable to sleep or close her eyes, beheld again, with inward vision, +the scene: the background of flowering shrubs, the white floating +figure with waving arms and gliding grace--Jimmy, sitting with his +elbows on his knees, his hat on the back of his head, cigarette in +mouth, gazing and glowering like a masher in a music hall--where no +doubt, for the moment, he believed himself to be! + +And Dominga was her own sister--what should she do? What must she do? + +At this moment a stealthy footfall entered the room--it was Dom come to +answer that question in person. + +"Verona," she whispered, "are you asleep?" + +"No--I wish to goodness I was." + +"You know our secret." + +"I'm not so sure that I do!" + +"But you see what we are. Jimmy adores me, and I adore him." + +"If so, why does he not come here and adore you in broad daylight?" + +"Because of people's tongues--think of the spite of the Trotters and +Watkins, and Blanche's chum, Mrs. Wandle. Verona, dear," and she fell +on her knees beside the bed, "will you promise to say nothing of what +you saw? Promise, and I will do anything--anything." + +"I will promise, if you will listen to what I have to say first." + +Dominga, with an impatient "Ch-a-ah!" sat suddenly down on the floor. + +"I have seen Captain Fielder's father. He is a curious old man--very +proud, and very hard--and enormously rich." + +"How rich?" asked Dom, raising herself a little. + +"Oh, about forty thousand a year." + +"Rupees?" + +"No, pounds; there are no rupees in England. He has eyes like two bits +of granite, and a long chin; he wears a tall white hat and black stock, +and lifts his feet high off the ground as if they did not fit him. +I've often laughed at his way of walking. He is crazy about pedigree +and position, and Jimmy is his only remaining son. If he makes an +unsatisfactory marriage--for instance, if he were to marry a girl +without position or fortune--it would be his deathblow!" + +"So much the better," said Dominga, springing to her feet. + +"But Dom, do listen. Captain Fielder can never make you his wife--do +give him up." + +"Do you think he will give _me_ up?" she demanded, in a low, grating +voice. + +"Well, promise me at least that you won't meet him at night again. +Promise, Dom, on your word of honour." + +"I promise," she responded, in a passionate whisper; "and now, Verona, +listen! if you are false to me, I will"--she paused for a second, in +order to formulate a threat and deal adequate vengeance. Her ear caught +a rustle on the dressing-table--yes! there was naughty little Johnny, +out of his bed at that time of night, sitting up, and watching the +sisters with his two glittering black eyes. + +"I won't say I'll kill you," resumed Dom, "for you wouldn't care--oh, +I know your mind--but I will kill Johnny, I will burn him--yes, I'll +roast him alive, and _that_ would hurt you!" + +"Oh, Dom, don't say such hideous things! Of course, you may depend on +me; but you--can I really trust you? Will you swear to me on the Bible?" + +"No; but I'll swear to you on my soul! will that satisfy you?" + +Dominga Chandos set but a nominal value on her soul. What little soul +she had belonged to Jimmy Fielder, and she broke her oath within three +days. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXII + + +The next event of importance was a grand dinner party given by Mrs. +Lepell, to which she invited Verona alone. Mrs. Chandos was loudly +indignant because Dominga had been overlooked, for she had learnt all +particulars of the festivity from her ayah, who heard it from the +Lepell's khansamah. There were to be no less than twenty-four guests. +These included Colonel and Mrs. Palgrave, Miss Richards, Mr. Young, +the Deputy-Inspector-General of Police, Mr. Salwey, a Sir Rupert and +Lady Maxwell, who were staying at the Dak bungalow, and various other +notabilities; altogether it was to be an unusually smart affair. Poor +Verona, who was not particularly anxious to be present, was compelled +to listen patiently whilst her mother harped from morning till night on +Mrs. Lepell's many delinquencies and Dominga's grievances. + +The evening arrived, and Verona, with Pussy's volunteered assistance, +began to make her toilette. She arranged her hair carefully, and put on +a dress, relic of happier times, a white crêpe de chine; it had come +from the atelier of Laferrière, and was a simple, but exquisite gown. +Pussy was loud in her expressions of admiration. + +"Oh--it is beautiful, beautiful, beautiful! Verona. If you will sit +down before the glass, I will clasp your pearls round your neck, and +then you are ready. Now, what do you think mother did to-day?" + +Verona shook her head in hopeless ignorance. Her mother did so many +things--she resembled a little black ant, and was never idle. + +"You know she is awfully mad that Dominga was not invited, especially +as Mr. Young is going, so she wrote a note over to Mrs. Lepell to ask +her if she could possibly squeeze in Dominga anywhere? The answer came +back in two minutes to say that Mrs. Lepell was extremely sorry, but +the number of her guests was quite complete." + +Verona, listening to this little tale, blushed for her mother to the +roots of her hair. At this moment the door of the verandah was burst +open, and Mrs. Chandos herself appeared; she looked both angry and +excited. + +"My! whatt ages you have been," she declared, as she surveyed Verona's +toilette with glittering, malevolent eyes. + +"I was helping Nicky with his sums, and I forgot the time. I am afraid +I am a little late." + +"I am afraid you will be _very_ late," cried Mrs. Chandos, with a +queer, hysterical laugh, and she suddenly swept a pail of water from +behind her dress, and deluged her unfortunate daughter from head to +foot. At first the shock was such that Verona could do nothing but +gasp, and gasp; then, to the amazement of the spectators, she burst out +laughing. + +What an object she was! the water streaming down her hair and nose, +and a pool in her lap, her gown a mere soaked rag. Verona's laugh was +an inspiration! If for days she had been preparing an effective retort +to her mother's malicious action, she could not have hit the mark more +cleverly. Mrs. Chandos stood disarmed, astounded, humiliated. + +"I am afraid I shall now be very late indeed," said Verona as she rose, +dripping from head to foot, and looked at her parent with extraordinary +composure, "so late that it will not be worth my while to go at all. If +you will all kindly retire, I should like to change my wet clothes." + +Without a single word Mrs. Chandos slunk out, bucket in hand, but Pussy +lingered to profess her sympathy and dismay. + +"Now, what can you say? Oh, you must send an excuse?" she enquired, +with an awestruck face. + +"You can say I have had a severe wetting," rejoined Verona. In her +heart of hearts she was not sorry to be compelled to remain at +home. These local gatherings had nothing to offer her but pain and +humiliation. + +"A severe wetting!" cried Pussy, "they will not believe it. There has +been no rain for weeks!" + +"I cannot help that," retorted her sister, "but if you want to make it +appear plausible, you may add that I have gone to bed." + +Pussy sat down and scrawled off the following note: + + "Dear Mrs. Lepell,-- + + "_Please_ excuse Verona. She has had a _bad_ wetting, and is gone + to _bed_. + + "Believe me, + + "Yours sincerely, + "BELLAMINA CHANDOS." + +The true state of the case was not long in finding its way to Mrs. +Lepell's ears. She could not help laughing at the incident as she +related it to her nephew, but she felt more sorry than ever for Verona +Chandos. + + * * * * * + +It was eleven o'clock at night. The bungalow was silent, the lights +were extinguished everywhere except in the office, and here we behold +Mrs. Chandos and Abdul Buk face to face across a table, exceedingly +grave and busy. In front of each was a large ledger, and as Mrs. +Chandos read out figures and totals Abdul Buk said "Jehan, jehan," and +ticked off the duplicate in pencil; occasionally Mrs. Chandos would +point out discrepancies and losses, and a certain amount of argument +and wrangling would ensue. + +"There is that widow in the Gorra bazaar; she owes me a hundred rupees." + +"With interest," amended Abdul. + +"She has only had twenty-five in her hand." + +(By which it will be seen that Mrs. Chandos, like Ralph Nickleby, +expected to get two pence for every half-penny.) + +"She worked very hard, and borrowed the money to pay for her husband's +funeral." + +"It was my money, though, and I will have it back, and the interest. +_You_ know what to do," said this daughter of the horse-leech. "Then +there is that girl who drowned herself in the well; I shall never get +an anna from her now, and she is down in my books for two hundred +rupees." + +"You lost nothing by _her_--she had paid the principal over and over." + +"My losses have been heavy this last six months. Again, there is that +man who took poison." + +"What you call losses are trade risks, and but nothing when you take +into consideration your enormous gains. No one does such business as +Saloo"--he gave a sort of grunting laugh. "I paid a big sum into the +Bank of Bengal in the name of your mother, as usual. Oh--ho! What a +good thing it is that she leaves business to you, and thinks she has +only a few hundred rupees. Bee Bee Chandos, you are a very rich woman." +Here he pulled up a large bag, made of knotted twine, and poured on the +table a quantity of rupees and notes. These his companion proceeded to +count with eager, greedy fingers (and a celerity that was positively +astonishing and indicated long habit), arranging them in piles of fifty. + +"Four thousand, seven hundred," she said at last. "I don't know what +you call rich; I have been twenty years in the business; I have worked +hard, and I pay you and your agents well." + +"It is a difficult, risky business," protested Abdul Buk. "I go in +fear of my life of that Salwey; if I am found out, it is ruin to me; +my character will be gone. If it was supposed that I was the agent of +the greatly-feared Saloo, surely the very beggars would spit upon me--I +would not have a friend in the world." + +"Money is a good friend," said Mrs. Chandos sententiously. + +"Ay," assented Abdul Buk, "and you must have laks by now." + +He paused and looked at her reflectively; then he said: + +"Why do you not spend it instead of hoarding? Why not enjoy the money +before"--he paused, then he added--"you are found out." + +"Cha-a-h! I will never be found out!" she answered shrilly. "I love +handling money; it is in my blood. I get it from Lopez, my father. He +left me no fortune, with all his once great riches." + +"Of a truth his riches did _him_ no good; he died a ruined man." + +"But he left me a legacy," rejoined Mrs. Chandos; "his books, his +accounts, the names of his clients and his methods. I found them all +in an old box, when my mother came to live with me. They have been of +value." + +"Take my advice and wind up now," urged Abdul Buk. "I feel a +presentiment of evil. Lo! I see a little cloud, like a man's hand, as +it says in your book which I have read. I fear Salwey--some day he will +discover all; he is working, working, working. You will have your veil +torn off, and be known through the province as the accursed Saloo, +whilst I may be cast into prison. Anyway, I lose my honour." + +"Abdul Buk, you are a coward; you ought to be the old woman, I, the +man." + +"So you say," he exclaimed with sullen scorn. + +"What of Hirzat Sing?" + +"He wails and weeps and prays to be suffered to die in his ancestral +home." + +"He is a tiresome old fool and can no longer till the ground to good +profit. All I made last year on that acre and a half of cane was one +hundred rupees--he must go." + +"It will kill him!" + +"Even so!" was the callous reply; "it were time he were dead! And now +what of the money belonging to my daughter, Verona? Have you put it out +to a good charge?" + +"Yes; four thousand rupees," he replied, "to build an oil mill; +twenty-five per cent. They cannot pay, so the interest will be +compound." + +"And the jewels, Abdul. Are there no tidings?" + +"No, though Salwey seeks them everywhere." + +"True; he wanted to search here, but I said no. He might have found +other matters. Yet it is past belief that there is no trace of them. +What sayest thou, Abdul?" + +Abdul nodded his head three times, but made no other reply. + +"I put them in the bag myself. It was not locked, but I locked the +press, and the door of the dufta, and some one came in and broke the +press at the back and took the necklace, the watch, a gold bangle and +rings. Think of it!" + +"Truly this district has an evil name for thieves and budmashes. The +robber has carried the jewels to the city, and they are doubtless ere +now broken up and sent to Delhi." + +"You think, Abdul, there is no chance of ever getting them back or of +finding the things?" enquired his employer as she settled her elbows on +the table and stared at him fixedly. + +"None; truly 'tis but a loss of time!" + +"How lucky that I kept out the beautiful diamond and emerald pendant. +It is worth all the rest. Such stones!" + +Abdul sat more erect, and his eyes now assumed a look of keen interest, +hitherto somewhat lacking in their expression, as he ejaculated a +sonorous "Ah-h!" + +"I admired the ornament so much, Verona made me take it. I have no +jewels, and I have hidden it safely." + +"Hidden it--and where?" he asked. + +As he put the question Abdul's great turbaned head lay half resting on +his shoulder; his countenance was childlike and bland. + +"Nay, nay," she answered with a laugh, "I cannot tell you that; the +very walls have ears." + +"It is not then in the dufta?" + +"Am I a fool?" she demanded, with pardonable indignation. + +"Nay; thou art a marvel of wisdom." + +"I think I shall sell the jewel some day; it will add to my daughters' +fortunes." + +"They will have great fortunes, your daughters." + +"Maybe." + +"All you pay me for my risks and labour is but a few hundred rupees." + +"If your commission is low--it is your own fault. The more you bring +me, the more you receive." + +"I receive but little. I am a poor man. I have a large family to +maintain; they all look to me." + +"They will be looking for you now!" said Mrs. Chandos briskly. + +"Truly thou art a hard woman--hard as a rock." + +As she spoke Abdul rose and closed the ledger before him with a bang. +Mrs. Chandos also rose, and with her foot turned back a rug in the +middle of the room; under this was revealed a trap door, which she +proceeded to unlock, whilst Abdul Buk lifted the heavy lid. Below was a +small space, wherein were boxes and account books. + +"Surely this is a great convenience," she said. "Here, in the old days +of the factory, they too kept money and books." + +The bag of knotted twine and the big account book were laid within, the +trap door was closed, the rug replaced. + +"I may not come here again for some time," said Abdul Buk. "Salwey +spends half a week at Manora; I cannot understand what brings him here, +unless he what you call 'smells a rat.'" + +"Bah!" exclaimed Mrs. Chandos, with great scorn. + +"Here I am ill at ease. Now, in my quarters in the cantonment bazaar, I +feel all right. There I can do business, and take measures." + +"Truly, yes," assented Mrs. Chandos, "'every dog is a lion in his own +lane.' Your peons, and the little deaf writer, how fare they?" + +"They are at your service. Behold! they are well chosen. They know +neither pity nor fear. Thou art a woman with a strong mind." + +"I am," she answered complacently, "and it is the mind that maketh +the body rich! Meet me in two weeks' time, by chance, at the railway +station--I will name the hour and day--and there we will confer about +the loans on the wheat crop." + +Mrs. Chandos, as she spoke, turned down the lamp, and went out, locking +the door of the office, while Abdul Buk stole round the corner of the +bungalow and along the road to where his phaeton was waiting, and drove +away. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIII + + +The next morning Razat Sing, a tall old man, leading by the hand his +blind wife, presented himself at the Chandos verandah, and asked to see +the Mem Sahib. + +"What would you?" she demanded, in her shrill voice. + +"Great lady," and he salaamed to the ground, "protector of the poor, +it hath come to my knowledge that Abdul Buk--whose rope is round our +necks--will do much for a word from thee." + +"Aré, what nonsense is this?" she screeched, in her fluent Hindustani. +"Art thou mad? What have I to do with such as thee?" + +All her daughters were assembled in the verandah, listening to this +conversation; the servants, too, were, as usual, within earshot. + +"It is true, O! lady, they say, that thou hast done him some noble +favour; therefore, will he listen to thee. We ask not much--only +to remain in the old house by the old well, on the soil on which I +was born. Lo! when I say we ask not much--we ask our lives. Sixty +years have I toiled and striven," holding up as he spoke his worn, +knotted hands; "I have not wasted my money on aught; I have gone no +pilgrimages; I have held no feasts; I have fed scantily; I have worked +harder than a mill bullock, but to no avail--the fruit of these hands +hath gone to the money-lenders, for once, in an evil hour, I did +borrow one hundred rupees. Alas, I am now in the toils of Saloo, the +soucar--he groweth richer and richer as we wax poorer and poorer; and +I have no son to carry on the debt--therefore am I driven forth, being +old and feeble. Speak but one word, oh, great lady, and Abdul Buk will +grant us our request." + +As he pleaded the poor old creature, whose body was almost +skeleton-like in its leanness, whose only garments were a dhoti and a +ragged red turban, sobbed aloud as he went down upon his knees, and +placed his head at the feet of Mrs. Chandos. + +"Bah! what have I to do with Abdul Buk?" she cried, "and his affairs? +Go! I mix not myself up with crops and beggars!" To avoid further +importunity--and secretly startled and alarmed--she retreated indoors. +The old ryot raised himself with a groan, slowly picked up his stick, +took his blind wife by the hand, and with downcast head led her away in +silence. They were a truly pitiful sight. Verona and Pussy whispered +together. Between them they had two rupees, and with these in her hand, +Pussy ran after old Razat Sing, and pressed the silver into his palm, +but he seemed to be dazed with trouble, and scarcely aware of her gift. + +"I know where he lives," said Pussy to Verona, "it is the old house +under the big pepul tree, a mile off the Bhetapore road. Let us walk up +there to-morrow morning, and take them some clothes. We will get Nani +to help us." + +The two girls constantly walked in the morning, but Dominga was a +lie-a-bed. And now and then they were joined by Mrs. Lepell--also an +early riser. + +At tennis that same evening, Verona related the story of Saloo to Mrs. +Lepell. + +"I mean to go to see old Razat Sing, too," she declared. "My husband +will give him quarters, and he can sweep up the leaves in the garden; +of course, it will be a change from his home, but still it means food +and shelter. If I could pay off his debt, I would, but if I began to +release the poor slaves, I should never have done--I might as well try +to empty the sea with a tea-spoon." + +At three o'clock the next morning the three ladies set forth on their +charitable errand; the two girls carried a piece of calico for a turban +and a little shawl, Mrs. Lepell some rupees. On their way they were +overtaken by Salwey, who, strange to say, was also about to look up the +unfortunate ryot; he dismounted and walked along with Verona, his aunt +and Pussy being in advance. + +It was a beautiful February morning; the dew was still glistening on +the grass, the air was cool, the sky blue and cloudless; presently +the little party came in view of a dwelling, standing some way off +the road. There was a well, an enclosed patch of garden, a ruined +cart-shed, and at the back some cow-sheds. The whole place had a +forlorn and dilapidated appearance, but once upon a time had evidently +some pretensions to importance. + +Mrs. Lepell and Verona went to the door and knocked gently--no reply. +They opened it and entered; the room was bare and scrupulously clean. +The fire was out; near it were some earthen pots, an iron spoon and +plate; some very old harness hung on the wall; in one corner was a +plough and a battered leather bucket. The inner room, into which they +peeped, was dark; there they discerned a string bed, on which lay a +huddled-up figure under a tattered coverlet. + +Mrs. Lepell addressed this figure in Hindustani, but there was no +reply. She went nearer, and turned back the comli, or blanket; the +old blind woman lay with her face to the wall; she did not move when +her visitor placed her hand on her shoulder, for she was quite dead. +Charged with this appalling discovery, Pussy darted out to break the +news to Salwey, who had been fastening up his horse. When he came in +and surveyed the still figure on the charpoy, he looked very grave; +then, as he led the way into the outer room, he said to the three +ladies: + +"Will you wait here? I will be back in a moment." + +In a very short time he returned; he had an open clasp knife in his +hand. + +"It was as I feared," he said, "the poor old chap is dead too; he +hanged himself with the well rope--I have just cut him down." + +Having locked up the house of death, Salwey rode off at once to make +arrangements for the inquest, while the three ladies returned home. +Pussy, who was weeping bitterly, sobbed to her sister: + +"You remember yesterday, Verona, what poor old Razat Sing said, 'he was +asking for their lives'--it was true." + +As the police officer galloped in to the cantonments he believed that +he held in his hand the clue to Saloo's identity, for he had found a +morsel of writing in the ragged turban of the suicide. If old Razat +Sing was the means of delivering others from the usurer's yoke--he had +not died in vain. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIV + + +The tragic fate of Razat Sing and his blind wife made a little stir for +a few days in and around Manora, but, unfortunately, these suicides +of despair were becoming common; public sensitiveness was somewhat +hardened and callous--familiarity breeds indifference. Razat Sing had +hanged himself; his blind wife had gone from darkness to darkness by +the aid of a little poisonous root. There was an end of the old couple, +and other affairs wafted these two insignificant particles down the +dark river of forgetfulness. The great charity ball already mentioned +was imminent at Lucknow; it was to be on a grand scale, and held in +that notable building, "the Chutter-Munzil," formerly the palace of +the kings of Oude. This function would be the brilliant closing event +of the cold weather season. Residents from surrounding districts, +soldier folk from distant stations, and crowds of tourists, would +pour into Lucknow for the occasion, and thus swell the receipts of +the fund. Tickets were only ten rupees; the committee had been most +carefully selected; everything was to be thoroughly well done, and +carried out on a scale of unusual magnitude. Mrs. Lepell, who was one +of the patronesses, volunteered to chaperon Verona and Pussy, and had +taken rooms at an hotel, where the two girls would be her guests. (Mrs. +Chandos, not to be behindhand, had secured somewhat squalid quarters +for herself in the abode of a friend, and would be present at the ball, +carrying in her train Dominga and Blanche.) This visit was an event +for Verona, who had seen nothing of India beyond Manora and Rajahpore. +The afternoon of her arrival at the "Royal Hotel" Mrs. Lepell drove +the two girls out to see the historic Residency; its grey walls, +torn and shattered by shot and shell, were now clothed by the most +exquisite white and yellow creepers. The compound, that scene of such +desperate bloodshed, was a velvet sward, intersected with neat paths +and flowering shrubs. + +It was only when the sightseers came to the graves, that Tragedy raised +her face. From the Residency the party were driven round by Dilkoosha +and into the cantonment. Here they saw numbers of people riding and +driving; polo was going forward, bands were playing, and in some places +the traffic of landaus, dog-carts, ekkas and bullock bandies was so +great that the roads were almost blocked. Here, too, were bugle calls, +the sounds of cheery English voices, the distant hum of a great city. +Here was another India to Manora, with its monotonous stretches of +rippling cane, half-naked coolies, and a few red-roofed bungalows, +clustered around the factory. + +It was ten o'clock; the hired landau was at the steps and Mrs. Lepell +and her charges were ready to start for the ball. The lady herself, +who was always admirably turned out, wore a dress of a delicate mauve +shade, and splendid diamond ornaments. Verona, in white, wore her +pearls and a wonderful bow of brilliants, which fastened her corsage; +these being her most valuable possessions she had hoarded them in a +little chamois-leather bag, and thus saved them from the thieves. +No doubt her jewels and her dress were startlingly unsuitable to +the daughter of Mr. Lepell's sub-manager, but she had resolved for +once to enjoy the occasion, and to abandon herself to this evening's +entertainment as the Verona Chandos of other days. Mrs. Lepell mentally +seconded this resolution, and was determined that nothing on her part +should be wanting to encourage the illusion. + +When they arrived at the Chutter-Munzil, the ball was already in full +progress (Indian ball-goers are notoriously punctual). Mrs. Lepell was +recognised by many acquaintances as she moved up to a raised platform +at the other end of the room, sacred to sitters-out. Many a glance +was cast at her beautiful companion, and, indeed, Pussy, in a smart +pink gown, with her luminous eyes and smiling lips, was a by no means +ill-looking young person. All sorts and conditions of people were +present--a charity entertainment covers many classes--but there was a +large preponderance of smart people, and crowds of men, the dresses and +the diamonds well up to the mark of a London ball-room. Verona stood by +her chaperon on the raised platform, and looked down on the scene--the +great pillared hall, the wonderful chandeliers and the glittering +show. A multitude gay with uniforms, bright dresses, bright faces, and +bright jewels, whirled round and round to the strains of a languorous, +heart-broken waltz. + +Among the dancers who swept by she noticed Captain Haig and Captain +Fielder, and presently Salwey sauntered up and accosted his aunt. + +"Why, Brian," she cried, "I thought you told me that you could not +possibly get away?" + +"I've just managed it at the last moment. I go back the day after +to-morrow. One ball a year is not much. Miss Chandos," turning to +Verona, "I hope you will honour me with a waltz?" + +"Yes, with pleasure," she replied. + +"Number seven?" + +"Very well," she acquiesced. + +"And what do you say to the fag end of this one? just to try the floor." + +Verona rose, took his arm, and descended into the vortex and found to +her great relief that Brian Salwey, in spite of but one ball a year, +danced delightfully well. As she presently stood aside a little out of +breath, he said: + +"I've been trying to trace your jewels," and he glanced at her +beautiful diamonds; "I see you had _some_ left." + +"Yes," she assented, "these I had sewn inside the sleeve of one of my +dresses--they are the most valuable of all." + +"I believe I am on the track of the others," he said, "but the +necklace--has gone to Delhi." + +"From whence I feel convinced it will never come back!" she said; +"well, it cannot be helped. After all, it would not be much use to me +now." + +"I left your brother Nicky in charge of my stud while I am away; he +is monarch of all he surveys. I expect he will keep the horses going +pretty well." + +"Yes, poor Nicky," she said, "he is so fond of riding, and would never +get a mount at all only for you. You have been very good to him, Mr. +Salwey." + +"Good to myself," he rejoined. "Nicky is capital company for me, and I +like him; there is a lot of grit about that boy; unless I am mistaken, +he will turn out well." + +As they talked, they were strolling slowly round the great ball-room, +the dance being over, and among the crowd they encountered Captain +Haig, who paused, not a little startled to behold the Miss Chandos +of other days! On the spur of the moment he accosted her and begged +for a dance. This she at once accorded him, and having scribbled down +"Captain Haig" opposite number nine, passed on. Mrs. Lepell, who had +found partners for Pussy, was now besieged for introductions to her +friend, "the girl in white," and in a few moments after Verona's return +to her side she had not one dance to spare. + +Dominga and Captain Fielder were inseparable, and for once reckless +of appearances; Dom with her lithe white figure, her red hair, green +wreath, and bright shameless eyes, looked like a beautiful Bacchante. +As Captain Haig lounged on the edge of the crowd, he overheard several +sentences which sank into his mind and there abode. + +"Do just look at that red-haired girl! how she is enjoying herself," +remarked a man to his partner--a lady of a certain age and importance. +"What a graceful creature she is!" + +"Yes, she seems crazy with excitement! I really wonder Captain Fielder +cares to make himself so conspicuous, especially as he is staying at +Government House. She is a Eurasian, from that sugar factory near +Rajahpore. Her mother is as black as your boot--she has aunts and +uncles in the bazaar!" + +"Nonsense, I would not have believed it." + +"It is true, and here comes another of them," as Blanche swept by, in +the arms of a dusky partner. Blanche, showing all her teeth, as she +chattered incessantly; Blanche decked out in a flame-coloured frock, +with long blue silk gloves and strings of shells in her hair. + +"I daresay you would not believe that that girl opposite in white +is their sister," and the lady indicated Verona with her fan. "She +has been in England, and looks quite presentable, only for her paste +ornaments! Mrs. Lepell brought her here to-night--such a mistake! they +are awful people, and have no pretensions to be in society." + +"At any rate, the girl seems to have any number of fellows clamouring +to dance with her!" remarked the man rather dryly. "She is uncommonly +handsome. I should never have thought that _she_ had a touch of the tar +brush." + +"Well, she has, and four annas in the rupee at least!" retorted his +partner viciously. (Verona had been admired in her hearing, and was +obviously overwhelmed with partners, whilst _she_ had only three names +on her programme, and was naturally envious and annoyed.) Captain Haig, +now too late, bitterly regretted his impulse. What a fool he had been +to ask the girl to dance! He had no desire to make himself conspicuous +by being seen with her; besides, what was the good of it? She and he +must be strangers for the future. At one moment he thought of shirking +number nine altogether--finally, he decided to claim it, and withdraw +into some secluded place, and there sit it out. And here was number +nine now! As the band had struck up "Valse Bleu," Captain Haig and +his partner took one turn before they came to a full stop, and then +they stood side by side in silence. He still deplored his momentary +madness--what had possessed him? what was he to say to this girl? He +was dumb, and from all sides rose the hum of voices, and there was a +general effect of gaiety and social pleasure. At last he muttered: + +"Shall we go on?" and slipped his arm round her waist. + +At the end of a brief turn, he abruptly led his partner away into a +distant corridor lined with seats. Was he ashamed to be seen with her? +This was the humbling impression he gave his former goddess. Yet he +felt the spell of her beauty drawing him towards her, precisely as it +had done of old, and he also felt that he was bound to say _something_. +How was he to tell her that he had adored her until the disclosure of +her parentage had extinguished his passion? As he stood beside her, +still tongue-tied, whilst she fanned herself with a languid grace, her +mother flaunted by on the arm of a stout Eurasian. Mrs. Chandos wore +the celebrated pink satin, a tuft of feathers quivered in her hair; at +her throat sparkled the emerald pendant. She was talking so eagerly to +her companion that the presence of her daughter entirely escaped her +sharp black eyes. As she disappeared down the corridor, Captain Haig +stifled a sigh, and began without preamble: + +"Miss Chandos--what must you think of me? but I will say one +thing--I shall honour _you_ as long as ever I live--and I ask +for--nothing--don't hate me--but----" and he paused with embarrassing +significance. + +"Hate you, Captain Haig?" she exclaimed, looking up; "why should I hate +you? I"--and her eyes involuntarily followed the little mincing pink +figure--"I understand." + +"I am most awfully wretched," he continued, in a lachrymose voice. + +"'Into each lot some rain must fall,'" she quoted gently. + +"By Jove, then, I've had a whole monsoon! all my hopes have been torn +down and washed away. You know what they were." + +Before she could make any reply to this question the band ceased with a +crash, and a crowd of dancers poured into the corridor, _en route_ to +the refreshment-room. As Dom and Captain Fielder hurried by, she said, +as she looked after the retreating couple: + +"Captain Fielder is your cousin, I believe?" + +"Yes," giving himself a mental shake, "my second cousin--not a bad sort +of chap--rather a silly ass in some things." + +"Now I am going to ask you a strange question. Do you think he intends +to marry my sister?" + +"Well, Miss Chandos, since you put it to me straight like that, I +should say that I am sure he does not." + +"Captain Haig, do you remember a note you wrote me the morning you left +Homburg?" + +"I do--I remember everything in any way connected with you" (this was +a statement of the wildest exaggeration), "every dress you wore, every +word you said, every look you gave me." + +"You remember what you said in that letter?" + +"I do. If ever the Princess wanted a champion, to summon _me_." + +"I am no Princess now--but I need your help sorely." + +"All right, only too glad to get the chance of being of service--to +you." + +"It is not for myself exactly--it is to help my sister Dominga." He +frowned involuntarily. "Yes, I want you to use your influence with your +cousin--to get him to put an end to this foolish affair--otherwise +I am convinced it will end in a--a scandal. My father has had many +troubles--he must be spared this. A family disgrace--would kill him!" + +"He shall be spared this if I can manage it, but Jimmy is a queer +mixture; in one way he is weak, and easily worked upon--in another, the +more you oppose him, the harder he resists. If I tried to interfere +openly, it would be no good. Can't _you_ persuade your sister to break +it off?" + +"No; she is hopelessly headstrong, and deaf as an adder to all my +entreaties. She thinks"--and here she paused. + +"What does she think?" + +"You will laugh when I tell you--she thinks that I am jealous." + +"Jealous of her, and that empty-headed dolt. Good heavens! I say, I'll +tell you what I can do. The hot weather is coming on--I have invited +Jimmy to spend a couple of months tiger shooting in the Terai. He is +not particularly keen, but I'll do my very best to persuade him. In two +months he will have forgotten her--a fortnight is his usual limit--but +she won't forget him, eh?" + +"Oh, but that won't matter; for, as my grandmother says, 'One hand +cannot clap.'" + +"Do you mean to say your grandmother is alive?" he asked aghast. + +"Yes, and a most remarkable woman," she replied, with the utmost +nonchalance; "very clever indeed in medicine and nursing--full of wise +sayings. I am extremely fond of her." + +Captain Haig made no remark, and she continued: + +"You will go soon--won't you?" + +"Out shooting? Yes," he answered, with a start; "I'll make +arrangements, and we will set out the week after next." + +"Thank you, a thousand times." + +"Don't--I wish I could do a thousand times more." + +At this moment Dominga and her partner returned and halted directly in +front of them. + +"We have been having oysters--delicious oysters," she announced, and a +wild vivacity was in her face and manner. "I'd advise you two to go and +get some before they are all gone." + +"Thank you, Miss Chandos," said Captain Haig, "but I have not your +courage." + +"Cha-a-ah! fancy being afraid of a poor little oyster--a Bombay oyster! +What are you two confabbing about? You look as if you were discussing +the affairs of the nation." + +Verona made no answer (a partner had come to claim her for the next +dance), and her late cavalier replied to the question with a forced +smile. + +"We were only arranging the affairs of some of our friends." + +Dominga, as she moved on, turned her long neck, and with one of her +peacock screams, cried: + +"Happy friends!" + + + + + CHAPTER XXXV + + +Mrs. Lepell resolutely refused to dance; she declared that she did not +consider it compatible with her responsibility as chaperon. But she +chatted to her many friends, and listened complacently to the warm +admiration they expressed for the pretty girl she brought with her. All +at once Brian Salwey came and threw himself into a seat beside her, and +said: + +"Now, I'm going to give you a shock, Aunt Liz." + +"That will be nothing new," she retorted with a laugh. + +"But this, I warn you, will be out of the common. Do you know what +brought me here to-night?" + +"The train, and a second-class gharry." + +"Yes; and the solemn resolve to ask Miss Verona Chandos to marry me!" + +"No words can express my astonishment! Brian, you must be mad!" she +exclaimed. + +"No; although I do three acrostics a week, I'm still fairly sane. What +have you to say against her? She is a lady, she is beautiful, and she +is good. What more would you have?" + +"Well, since you ask me, I would have a little money, and, my dear +Brian! think of her family! Think of your mother-in-law! Think of your +grandmother-in-law!" + +"At present," he replied with the utmost composure, "I am not disposed +to think of anyone but Verona, and if it comes to that, why don't you +ask me to think of my father and my step-mother? My father married to +please himself, and I shall certainly do the same." + +"I had not the smallest suspicion of this," murmured Mrs. Lepell, +opening and shutting her fan, with a meditative air. + +"Has it not occurred to you that I have been a good deal at Manora of +late?" + +"Yes." + +"To what did you attribute that?" + +"To a natural desire to see me, your Aunt Liz, your mother's only +sister. You know you are rather fond of your Aunt Liz." + +"I am," he assented, and he laid his hand in hers, "and as it was +certainly my Aunt Liz who first drew my attention to Verona Chandos, +she has only to thank herself for the result." + +"I am much attached to Verona myself; she is a dear, good girl; her +beautiful face is but the outer shell of a beautiful, unselfish soul. +Still, in spite of her mind and form, and much as I love her, I do not +desire her as a niece. I know there is no use in arguing with you, +Brian. What will be, will be. Your mind is made up, you will ask her to +marry you, possibly within the hour." + +"Possibly." + +"And within the hour--she will refuse you." + +"That remains to be seen," rejoined her nephew rising, as a general +covered with orders came forward, and asked Mrs. Lepell if he might +have the pleasure of taking her down to supper. + +Verona had followed with Brian Salwey, who, with some difficulty, +piloted his fair lady through the crowded room, and found two empty +places at a large central table. She had scarcely been seated, and was +taking off her gloves, when she heard her name spoken, and looking up +saw a handsome, middle-aged woman, wearing a diamond tiara, leaning +towards her eagerly. + +"Surely it is Verona Chandos?" she enquired. + +"Oh, Lady Ida!" she exclaimed, "is it you? What a surprise!" + +"To you, but not to me. I have been expecting to come across you +ever since I left Bombay," rejoined the other--speaking precisely as +if India were a small country town. "The Melvilles told me you were +out here. How do you like the gorgeous East? Not much," she added, +answering herself, "you look a little pale and thin, but of course I +would recognise you anywhere, by my very dear friend, your beautiful +diamond bow! You and I must have a long chat by and by," and with this +remark she once more turned her attention to her companion, and her +plate. + +"Who is the very dear friend of your diamond bow?" inquired Salwey. + +"Lady Ida Eustace--she lives near the Melvilles, who brought me up. I +have known her since I was a small child. She is a charming woman--so +popular. Don't you think her handsome?" + +(Lady Ida had an oval face, an aquiline nose, a pair of merry dark +eyes, and a presence!) + +"Um"--doubtfully; "I think she has plenty to say for herself. Who is +she when she is at home?" + +"She is married to Captain Eustace, who hunts the Halstead hounds. They +have no children, and travel a good deal." + +"We have been globe-trotting, as usual," resumed Lady Ida, once more +addressing Verona. "The doctors would not allow Cecil to winter in +England--such a blow for him. Do you know what has chiefly impressed me +in India?--the cold!" + +Verona smiled and said, "I have not felt it yet!" + +"I do assure you I never was prepared for it. At Delhi I simply could +not sleep at night, and Cecil actually had to pile Persian rugs on his +bed. I suppose you have done no end of sight-seeing?" + +"No, indeed. I only began yesterday." + +"What have you been about, you lazy girl? Well, we move on to Benares +day after to-morrow, and you had better come too?" + +"I am afraid I could not manage that--thank you very much, Lady Ida." + +"Pray who is your chaperon? Do let me ask her? Who brought you to the +ball?" + +"A friend, Mrs. Lepell." + +"Lepell--Lepell!" she repeated, closing her eyes. "Now, let me think; +yes! Her sister married a Colonel Salwey; she was a friend of mine, and +died young. He married again, oh, such a little----" + +"Excuse me, but I think you are speaking of my father," interrupted +Brian, and looking straight at Lady Ida as he spoke. + +"Oh! am I? Then you must be the boy I remember. Dear me! dear me! it +makes me feel quite an old woman! How odd that I should meet you, and +begin talking of your people. I've a dreadful way of stumbling into +social pitfalls--and I was just about to discuss your stepmother. Now, +tell me, when can I see your aunt?" + +"Any time after supper. You will find her up on the daïs place. She is +wearing a sort of purple gown." + +(A sort of purple gown!--that exquisite French garment of misty mauve +and silver.) + +"Very well--and, Verona, I must have a little talk with you. I suppose +you are engaged ten deep?" + +"Yes, but I think I could give you the Lancers," she rejoined, "to sit +out." + +"My dear child! I am engaged; I am dancing with the +Lieutenant-Governor! Oh, do please look at this party who have just +come in--the two women especially. It is not often you see such dark +complexions in society! How _did_ they get here? Observe the creature +with the shell chains in her hair. Why! you know them!" as Blanche +nodded at Verona; "who are they?" + +"They are my mother and sister," she answered in a low voice, and her +features were so controlled as to be almost expressionless. + +"Good heavens!" exclaimed Lady Ida, and the colour flew from her cheeks +to her hair. "Oh, my dear girl, you are not serious!" + +"I believe this is our dance," suggested Salwey, with admirable +invention and composure, rising and pushing back his chair, "and it has +already begun. Shall we go?" + +In another moment Verona and her partner had disappeared, leaving Lady +Ida gazing at a certain group at a side table, and greatly puzzled to +know whether Verona Chandos were in jest or earnest. Then she suddenly +remembered that there was some queer story about the girl's relations +in India, and her ladyship relapsed into unwonted silence, and left her +supper untouched, and as soon as her cavalier was movable, requested +him to pilot her to the upper seats in the ball room, where she lost no +time in making a search for a certain lady in a purple gown. + +"We are just in time," said Salwey, as he and his partner re-entered +the ball room; "we can have a second supper." He felt the hand on +his arm trembling, and the girl's face was ashen pale; undoubtedly +the scene at the supper table had told; but she maintained an air of +composure, and the dignity of a high-bred silence, and in another +moment they were launched upon the current of dancers. The waltz was +a well-known German favourite--many a step had Verona danced to it +elsewhere. When the last bar had sobbed away into the empty air, Salwey +led his companion out to the great flagged terrace which overlooks the +river. + +It was a splendid Eastern night, light as day--no Indian ball would +be complete without the moon. There were numbers of couples on the +terrace, and Salwey guided his partner to where there were two spare +seats, close to the parapet! No skulking in corners for him. He was +proud to be seen with the new Miss Chandos. + +"There is a lot of 'go' about this dance, is there not?" he remarked. +"It is like a bit of your former life--old friends and all. I say, what +a change it must have been to you, coming out to Manora." + +"It was," she assented, without lifting her eyes from the river. + +"I am going to propose"--he paused; she turned and looked at him +gravely--"another change." And in quite a matter-of-fact voice he added: + +"Miss Chandos, will you marry me?" + +For a moment she stared at him, as if unable to realise the question. + +A host of thoughts flew through her brain. Only one little month ago +she had been prepared to marry Captain Haig, and she now recalled this +fact with a sense of shame. But her mother's tongue and temper had +strained her courage beyond the pitch of endurance. At the approach +of her step she mentally quailed; at the sound of her voice her heart +fluttered. Since then she had fought a stern battle with herself; she +had braced her soul to accept the inevitable. Her health was better, +her nerves were more composed, and she had resolved never to marry. +Here was the first and only proposal she had received since her arrival +in India (the promised land of proposals), and what a curious contrast +was presented by this wooer to her former numerous suitors. He was a +mere nobody--a Superintendent of Police. But then, he was not suing for +the hand of Verona Chandos, the great heiress, but the hand of Verona, +the penniless half-caste. He was well acquainted with her history, and +with her circle of most undesirable connections. Whatever had been +in the minds of her former lovers, this generous man was entirely +disinterested. He cared for nothing but herself. Nevertheless, she +was determined to say No. She would refuse to spoil his life, and to +drag him into her miserable affairs. His aunt, too, who loved her as a +protégée, would undoubtedly detest her as a niece! + +She glanced from the glittering silver river to Salwey, who sat on the +edge of the parapet leaning towards her, the shining flood at his back +threw into strong relief his square shoulders and well-poised head. She +looked into his face--his strong, stern face--his steady blue eyes, +which were fixed gravely on her own, and anxiously awaiting her reply. + +Another dance had commenced, and the distant music filled the air with +a low, humming noise. Close by (with a partner and atmosphere of "Ess +Bouquet") sat Blanche, squeaking, giggling and jingling her bangles. +"Oh, you nartie man--be quiett! be quiett!" and there was a sound of a +brisk smack; "you shall not say so. No-a! No-a!" + +If Verona's mind had been momentarily undecided, her sister Blanche now +recalled her to her senses and hardened her heart to a fixed resolution. + +"Mr. Salwey, you have taken me by surprise. You have done me a great +honour," here she paused. + +"There!" he ejaculated; "I know--that's what girls always say when they +mean to let a fellow down easy." + +"I could not marry you--I will never marry any one." + +"What is your reason?" he asked sharply. + +"Need you enquire? I will never be a party to what is called a 'mixed +marriage.'" + +"As, for example?" + +"As, for example, my own father and mother." + +"Come, that is nonsense!" he protested impatiently. "You are no more +like her--than I am like him." + +"Ah, but you cannot tell what we might become. I have no doubt we +should both be miserable. My father----" + +Then he interrupted: + +"Your father came to grief, good, amiable gentleman, because he never +could say the word 'no.' Now I can; in fact, strange as it may sound, +such is my peculiar character, that my first impulse is to say 'no' +sooner than 'yes.'" + +"Then I trust you will pardon me for saying 'no' to you." + +"It is not a case of pardon at all. For me, it is a profound +disappointment. I scarcely ventured to hope you would accept me right +off, but I thought you might give me a little encouragement--just a +little bit of hope to go on with." + +"I had no idea you cared for me in this way, Mr. Salwey." + +"Well, I do. I have cared for you 'in this way' as you call it, ever +since I first saw you in Aunt Liz's garden, sitting under the bamboo +trees. You are the first woman I ever asked to marry me, and I think +you will be the last. Of course, I am aware that from a worldly point +of view, I am not much of a match for anyone--only a police wallah, a +D. S. P. with five hundred rupees a month. I went to Harrow and was +going into the Service, but I got a bad fall out hunting, and was +laid on my back for a good while, and could not go up for Sandhurst. +Meanwhile, my father married again--a woman none of us liked, but he +was quite infatuated about her. She declared it was nonsense, my +reading for the army; I should always be loafing about at home, for the +chances were I would not pass. She thought me dull--and, I confess, I'm +not particularly brilliant--so she got me a nomination in the police, +and packed me off to India, and here I am. But I'm not bound to live +here always. I believe I could get a billet in our own country. If"--he +came to a full stop, and then went on. "And is it really, No?" he +asked, looking at her steadily. + +She bowed her head, and then lifted her eyes slowly, and looked not +into his, but over his shoulder at the river; Suddenly she gave a +little shiver, and exclaimed: + +"Oh, what is it? I feel something so cold in the air. So--so--so +strange!" and she shivered again. "I should like to go indoors, Mr. +Salwey," standing up as she spoke. "Indeed I am most grateful to you +now, and some day, you will be grateful to me. I hope we may be friends +till then--and always. Now please take me back to your Aunt Lizzie." + +Although Captain Haig danced continuously--chiefly with the party +from Government House--he happened to notice that Salwey hung about +doorways, and that his eyes were constantly fixed on Miss Verona +Chandos. Was he _épris_ also? Would he dare to marry her? Brave Salwey! +They had been at Harrow together, and Salwey had always been notorious +for a species of reckless, and at the same time dogged, courage. Well, +the girl herself was lovely--whatever her people were--and apparently +fate had no stroke that she could not bear with dignity and fortitude. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXVI + + +It was just tiffin-time at the hotel, and Mrs. Lepell, somewhat weary +and yawning, was about to summon her two young ladies, when her ayah +hurried into her room in breathless haste, and announced: + +"Salwey Sahib want see Mem Sahib," and her nephew followed almost on +the ayah's heels. He looked so discomposed that she knew at once that +something serious had happened. + +"Oh, what is it?" she asked. "Is it Tom?" + +"No," he said, glancing round the room to see that all the doors were +closed--then lowering his voice, he added: + +"It is Nicky Chandos." + +Mrs. Lepell stepped back and sank into a chair. + +"Ssh! don't talk loud. Tell me all about it. How did you hear?" + +"The head constable has come in with a letter, and I am off in five +minutes. I left the poor boy the use of my horses, and last night he +was riding out to Manora on Baber, no doubt full gallop. Some devil +had put a rope across the road. Baber broke his neck, and I fancy that +Nicky was killed on the spot. They were found early this morning, with +my dog 'Chum' on guard over the two bodies." + +Mrs. Lepell endeavoured to speak, but failed. + +"And the worst of it is," resumed her nephew, "the trap was intended +for _me_; several people were anxious that I should break my neck--but +poor Nicky had not an enemy in the world. Now I must be off to the +inquest and funeral; I will leave you to break it to the family here." + +"Oh, but really, Brian--I cannot!" + +At this moment Verona entered the room: + +"I beg your pardon," she said, drawing back from what seemed a private +interview between aunt and nephew. + +"No, no, no--Verona, come here," cried her friend; "Brian, you must +tell her." + +Salwey looked down on the ground for a moment, and then he said, with +obvious reluctance: + +"Well, I suppose I must. Miss Chandos, I'm sorry to say--I am the +bearer of very bad news. Your brother Nicky----" + +"Is hurt?" she questioned. There being no answer--"Is dead?" + +"Yes, he fell into a trap intended for me, and was killed on the spot." + +Verona covered her face with her hands and leant against the wall. + +"You know, _you_ are the one to bear up," he continued, "you will tell +Dominga--Dominga will tell your mother. Tell them"--and his voice +shook a little--"the poor boy's death must have been instantaneous and +painless." And without another word he opened the door and went out. + + * * * * * + +When Mrs. Chandos and her daughters returned to Manora the following +day, the funeral had already taken place. The sudden, as it were, +departure of Nicky struck them all with a sort of icy chill. Nicky's +place was vacant; his chair at table stood empty. + +Two days previously he had been among them, noisy and cheery; whistling +about the bungalow, knocking things over and carpentering; the most +active and animated of the whole family--and now he was gone--not down +the river to Mr. Salwey's, not into Rajahpore for an hour or two, +but gone--gone, never to come back. There were his books, his shabby +clothes, his cap, his tennis bat--everywhere they looked their eyes met +something to recall Nicky. Nicky had never been his mother's favourite +child--Dominga, Blanche, and even Pussy, came far before him; but her +grief was loud, ceaseless and unreasoning. She had long fits of frantic +screaming that nothing would subdue, and poor old Mrs. Lopez, who was +heartbroken at the death of her darling, vainly endeavoured to soothe +her. + +Good Mrs. Cavalho, true angel in cases of sickness and death, tried her +best to comfort them both. At times, such was Mrs. Chandos's grief, +that she was as if demented, tossing her head from side to side, and +crying out: + +"Oh, my poor boy! Oh, my poor boy! He is dead! And that is not the +worst--oh, you do not know the worst! Oh, my poor boy! my poor boy!" + +These cries were looked upon as the delirious ravings of a +grief-stricken mother; no one could make out, or even attempted to +understand, what Mrs. Chandos meant by saying: + +"Oh, you do not know the worst! Oh, you do not know the worst!" + +And one thing no one ever knew. It was never discovered who it was that +tied a well-rope across the road, where it was so dark under the peepul +trees, and thereby caused the death of Black Baber, and Nicky Chandos. + +The shock of his son's death appeared to have aroused Mr. Chandos +from his condition of mental stupor. As he stood by the graveside, a +dignified, pathetic figure in deep mourning, many now looked upon Paul +Chandos for the first time. Although the hand of affliction was heavy +upon him, and he was worn and weary-eyed, there was an indefinable +distinction in his air, and people were quite prepared to believe the +fable, that he was the next heir to an ancient name and great estate. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXVII + + +The hot weather had driven most of the residents in Rajahpore to the +hills. Mrs. Lepell had departed to Naini Tal, having vainly urged +Verona to accompany her, but Verona refused to leave home, and boldly +declared that she would like to find out if all the tales about the +season were true? The crops were reaped; where yellow grain and green +vetches had flourished was now but miles and miles of a substance +resembling red sandstone. The trees were leafless; the hot wind roared +about the country, driving clouds of sulphur-coloured dust before it, +and the thermometer was over a hundred in the shade. The doors of the +bungalow were fitted with transferable screens made of matting; over +these a coolie poured water continually, in order to establish a damp +atmosphere. + +The punkah swung lazily in the darkened room, in which sat Pussy and +Verona, and occasionally Mr. Chandos, but Mrs. Chandos and Dominga +made no effort to exert themselves; the latter lay brooding on her bed +for hours with a packet of love letters under her head. The expedition +had duly come off. Jimmy was away in the Terai, tiger-shooting with +his cousin, Captain Haig, and Dom was deserted and distraught. She +became thin, haggard, and unbearably restless; she spent hours writing +letters--and lived upon those she received. Dom rarely left the +house nowadays, and made not the slightest attempt to conceal her +indifference to Baby Charles. There had been no more notes for him in +"Mrs. Beeton's Book of Household Management," and on the rare occasions +when they happened to meet she snubbed him ruthlessly. + +"What did it mean?" After puzzling over the matter the station gave up +the riddle. They never imagined, even in their most brilliant moments, +that Dom had become tired of playing a part in a mock love affair, +and that all her thoughts, and hopes, and fears were buried in the +jungle--along with Jimmy Fielder. + +One afternoon Verona received an urgent message from her grandmother +to say that she wanted to see her at once in her own room. When she +entered the dufta she discovered the old lady sitting with crossed legs +on her red lacquered bed--her sole costume a charm and a chemise. + +"What is it, Nani?" enquired the girl, languidly. + +Nani continued to fan herself with a prodigious hand punkah, and +presently remarked: + +"Aré, Bai! it is hot to-day!" + +Verona nodded. Surely Nani had not wished to see her merely to inform +her of this obvious fact! + +"Shut the door, child, and sit down," resumed Mrs. Lopez. "Tell me, +have you noticed how happy Dom is these times? how she sings, and no +longer mopes like a sick owl? Would you hear the reason?" + +"If you please, Nani." + +"Once I told you she had a lover. Now I tell you--that she joins him in +a few hours." + +"Oh, no, Nani--it is impossible!" + +"Listen--he is one they call the 'Honourable.' At night he often came +out here to meet Dom--they thought no one knew. Cha-a-ah!" snapping her +fingers; "it was the talk of the bazaar. It came not to the knowledge +of the station folk--save of Salwey--who knows all things." + +"But about to-day, Nani?" + +"Oh, yes, Dom goes to-day, and she is packing now," she added +tranquilly. + +"It must be stopped," said Verona, suddenly rising to her feet. "Think +of the shame and disgrace! your own grandchild!" + +"Nay, you are my grandchild, also Pussy--and my best of all is gone. +Aré, Hai! Hai! But Dom is naught. I know her, and keep my own counsel. +I have two ears--but one tongue. I meddle not with Dom. No! 'Let +everyone sweep before his own door'!" + +"Oh, Nani, tell me what you know--and how you know it?" + +"How I know I will keep to myself, but _what_ I know--is this. There +is the gate, half a mile beyond the factory, where by signal the train +stops for sugar and passengers. At night, when one would travel that +way, old Jaggerie shows a lamp--he will show it at ten o'clock, when +the mail for the north goes by. The plan is this. Dom, with her luggage +carried by a syce, will be there and meet the train. Her lover is in +it--they go together to Cashmere." + +"But he is in the Terai shooting," interrupted her listener. + +"He is not there now. Dom's letters have recalled him to her. You go +into her room and see if I do not speak truly. Then come back." + +Verona entered her sister's apartment, immediately after her knock, and +found her busily engaged in rolling up clothes into the smallest space, +and stuffing them into a leather bag, over which she threw a cloak +instantly--an instant too late. She looked hot and flushed. + +"What is it?" she asked, peevishly; "what do you want? A paper? Goody +me! what paper?" + +"_Truth._" + +"Then it is not here, so now," with a stamp of her foot, "you go; go, +go, go. I am busy." + +"Well?" enquired Mrs. Lopez, when Verona had returned. + +"Yes, you are right. We must think of something?" + +"You suppose you can stop her--the Red Cat--no, better let her go." + +"Oh, Nani, no. Think of father, and do help me!" + +"If you have a stout heart--it can be done. Verona, see, you take +Zorah, my woman, you wear a dark frock, and lie in wait near Jaggerie's +hut. When he hears the train coming, about one mile away or less, he +raises the lamp and shows light. He is old and very fat; but you are +young. You throw a cloth over light, and run away and blow it out. No +light, no train, you see--and so--Dom will be left." + +"It is a splendid idea. I think I can manage to carry it out, Nani, +unless there is some other plan. Would you tell mother?" + +"No; does she ever gainsay Dom?" + +"Then Pussy?" + +"She would but laugh and cry and let them go. No, you are the only one, +and Zorah may be trusted. You snatch the light--she will hide it." + +At nine o'clock that night--a night so warm that the heat seemed to +fan one--Verona (supposed to have gone to bed) and Zorah, the ayah, +stole forth, and hurried away to the gate crossing. They arrived at the +hut, and crept round to the far side, and then stood in the shadow, +motionless. In twenty minutes' time Dom appeared, stepping delicately +on the warm, dried-up grass, and carefully holding up her spotless +white gown. She was closely followed by a syce, carrying a box and a +bag. Arrived at the gate she stood still, and held a long whispered +conference with old Jaggerie. + +"Truly, in fifteen minutes," he said aloud, "in fifteen she will pass. +You can hear the train three miles away this still night. When she +comes to the bend, I raise my lamp and all will be well," and forthwith +he returned to his huka. The fifteen minutes seemed to Verona like +fifteen hours. She felt cold with apprehension as she stood in the +shadow of the hut, straining her ears, and catching no sound but the +shrill chirping of insects in the air and the discordant cry of some +night bird. If she missed the lamp, and was caught and unmasked--what +then? If with jeers and derision Dom threw her aside and made her +escape--what then? And, after all, what right had she to put herself +forward in Dominga's life? She did it, since no one else could, to +save the name of "Chandos," to fend off this blow from her father's +bent head. Oh, here it was! She heard the train coming, and how her +heart thumped! At first the sound was merely a dull rumble, becoming +gradually louder and louder. Now it was at the turn, and Jaggerie +shuffled out of the hut swinging a great square lantern. But what was +_this_? Something from behind sprang on him, and dragged the lamp +from his nerveless grasp, and there was instantly a thick darkness! +The cries of Jaggerie--"A Shaitan! A Shaitan!" were mingled with the +agonised voice of Dominga calling for the "light, the light, the +_light_!" But none was forthcoming; no spark to penetrate an oppressive +darkness--dense and thick as velvet. The train, the flaming engine +approached, was upon them with a roar--the great furnace for a second +illuminated a woman's figure at the gate, standing with extended +arms; then the locomotive thundered by, with its rumbling string of +carriages. The door of one of these stood wide, and in the aperture +appeared the gesticulating form of a man. Another second, and the mail +train for the north had swept by, and Dominga was left behind! For some +time she appeared totally unable to realise this fact and remained +rooted to the spot, staring after the rapidly receding red light with +dazed, incredulous eyes. Meanwhile the syce had darted into the hut and +brought forth a piece of blazing wood. Too late, alas! it was all too +late! + +Suddenly with one wild scream Dominga flung herself face downwards on +the track, and abandoned her soul to an outbreak of passionate Oriental +despair. Truly, she was no Chandos now, this woman who lay in the dust, +beat her head upon the ground and shrieked aloud in piercing Hindustani. + +Zorah stood far off, holding the extinguished lamp, but Verona, who was +nearer, viewed the spectacle with horror. Dominga had gone mad with +grief--could that dreadful, writhing, shrieking thing be her very own +sister? + +By and by the syce approached--next Jaggerie (still groaning and +shaking from the effects of his devilish experience); attention was +diverted, Zorah beckoned, and in another moment was joined by her +fellow conspirator, and together they hurried home, maintaining a +somewhat guilty silence. + +"So you have done it arl-right?" said Nani, as Verona entered. + +"Yes, and I am--so sorry now--her grief was awful. Oh, Nani, I feel as +if I had killed Dominga!" and overcome with emotion and excitement, the +girl burst into tears. + +"Pah--pah! no fear you kill Dom! More like she kill _you_. And what +says your proverb--'A cat has nine lives.'" + +Verona sat up till one o'clock, anxiously listening until she heard the +stealthy return of her sister, and then she at last went to bed, and +fell into an uneasy sleep. The next afternoon Dominga appeared, looking +terribly pale and shattered. Her face was badly cut, her temples +bruised, her lips were lacerated. She was really a startling sight, but +in reply to her mother's anxious questions she replied: + +"I fell in the garden last night--in the dark." + +"Oh, my! it looks more than that--you make so little of your hurts, +Dom. What has happened?" + +"It is as I say," she answered savagely. "Let there be no more talk." + +Later, after the household had retired, Dominga, lamp in hand, came +trailing into Verona's room, and stood and stared at her as she +lay--with glaring, glittering eyes. She seemed to be the incarnation of +some wounded tigress. After an alarmingly long pause-- + +"_You_ know what it was," she declared in short gasps, "yes, you were +there and stole the light! The syce saw you! Oh, you deceitful devil! +you envied me my love, and so you snatched it away. I know, too, that +it was _you_ who begged Captain Haig to take Jimmy tiger shooting. +Yes, _he_ told Jimmy and Jimmy told me! We both hate you. May you be +accursed! May you go to Hell for ever, and be the prey of serpents. And +accursed you will be--even now--for I shall make your life a torment!" + +Here was indeed the raw stuff of poor human nature illuminated by a +blaze of passion. Dom, with her fierce white face and furious eyes, was +the very embodiment of hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness. Her +lips were quivering and bloodless; she seemed scarcely able to breathe, +and shook with the vehemence of her feelings. + +"Dom, you are talking nonsense," protested her sister. "I did prevent +your running away with Captain Fielder; you will thank me some day--and +I have kept your secret loyally. This sort of affair is hateful to +me--I do assure you." + +Dominga's incredulous laugh was almost like the cry of a hyena. + +"I know that Captain Fielder does not intend to marry you; you see what +his love means! I thought you were proud of being a Chandos. Could you +bear to drag your life out in the gutter?" + +"I could bear to drag out my life, following Jimmy round the world on +my bare knees--I would ask no more; and last night I had not seen him +for six weeks--and I was within three minutes of meeting him--I--who +have been counting the very hours since he left me. And you--you"--she +choked--"oh, I cannot speak! but I could tear you to pieces"; and with +a moan like some wounded animal Dominga staggered from the room. + + * * * * * + +Whatever Dominga had told her mother, she now evinced to her third +daughter a bitter and invincible animosity--life became almost +insupportable, and the wretched girl's only refuge was either the den +or the dufta. + +"Aha," exclaimed Nani, "it were better to have been advised by me. Dom +avers that you have ravished from her her lover--'The Honourable'--the +lord's son. She hath her mother's ear, and for all your good will, Dom +has set her against you. So you will find, 'that to gain a cat--you +have lost a cow'!" + + + + + CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +Were she to live to the age of one hundred years Verona could never +forget that hot weather at Manora--the memory was burnt into her very +soul. It was not merely the absolute desolation of the season, not +only the breathless atmosphere that seemed to quench all vitality, the +endless hours spent in idleness, because the rooms were necessarily +darkened, it was not the maddening "Tonk Tonk" of the coppersmith bird, +the thoughts of her past, the hopelessness of her future, but every +other sensation was dominated by the fact that under the same roof, +in that still, dim bungalow, abode two malignant spirits, whose every +glance and word breathed invincible hatred and ill will. + +These were her mother and Dominga. Since Dominga's elopement had been +so successfully frustrated, she had fallen into a state of lassitude +and lay for hours motionless, and, so to speak, torpid, coiled up with +closed eyes in her long cane chair. When the all too terrible sun had +sunk below the plains across the river, and the soft blue haze of an +Indian evening had taken its place, she would wander alone about the +untidy garden, muttering to herself incessantly (as if rehearsing +some important conversation). She still wrote many letters; these the +Dak runner now no longer carried fearfully through the high elephant +grass, or the thorny Dak bushes of the Terai, but they travelled +in full state on His Majesty's mail tonga, and were delivered by a +postman in orthodox uniform at a certain hill club. The hot weather +had seemingly the power of relaxing the stiff social bonds peculiar to +the cool season. Most women cast aside curling pins and corsets and +wore muslin wrappers, and their hair "plain." Men abandoned formality +with waistcoats and collars, and Mr. Lepell frequently walked over to +smoke a pipe with his sub-manager. On these occasions Mrs. Chandos +never appeared; she was incessantly occupied with business, and besides +this, Tom Lepell was one of the two men in the whole world whom she not +only hated but feared. Mrs. Cavalho constantly trotted across to sit +and gossip with Mrs. Lopez on a little plot of scorched grass in the +garden; here, under the stars which shone between the bare branches of +the cork trees, the two old women talked for hours; talked of their +youth and their good days, before they had become a pair of derelicts +moored beside the Jurra river. Pussy and Verona occasionally joined +them, and listened with unaffected interest to tales of visions, and +warnings, of life, love and death, and many other curious matters. +In the dim, soft light Mistress Cavalho's old face seemed to assume +a different expression--perhaps Youth himself came to her in the +dusk, along with his tender recollections? Her eyes looked large and +brilliant, the lines of her features appeared faultless. She had a +low, sweet voice, and there was something in the personality of Felipa +Cavalho that was inexpressibly soothing and restful. + +Now and then one of the girls wandered alone about the thirsty, +sunburnt garden, accompanied by her own reflections. Pussy's mind was +entirely occupied by Alonzo--when would she meet him? What would he +think of her new yellow hat? and Verona, too, had musings sacred to +her own heart. Her thoughts frequently turned to Salwey, as she paced +the narrow "kunker" paths. She had not seen him for a long time! He +never came up to Manora now! No doubt, he had outgrown his foolish +fancy. After all, was it not precisely what she desired? Yet, even as +Verona assured herself that all was for the best, she was conscious of +an inward pang, and of a half-stifled sigh. She was aware of something +blighting in the atmosphere--an enervating, creeping influence, which +made her feel languid, callous and numb. Was this merely a temporary +lassitude--the effect of the pitiless hot weather? or--horrible +thought!--was it the native element developing in her veins, stealing +into her heart and claiming her for its own at last? + +Occasionally Verona joined her father and Mr. Lepell as they sat and +smoked together on the verandah, but on these occasions Pussy yawned +and went to bed, for she found their conversation much too dull. +Their theme was of the shop--of mango wood fuel, of rab and goor, and +contracts and transport, and new machinery. But Verona, who had not her +sister's easy faculty for sleep, remained languidly interested, and +still more interested when her father asked his guest in a casual tone: + +"By the way, what has become of Salwey? I've not seen him about lately?" + +"Oh, he is out in the district; the hot weather is his busy time," was +the reply. + +"Why?" enquired the girl; "I thought during the hot weather everyone +remained at home in a state of torpor." + +"Not every one, especially a police officer," rejoined Mr. Lepell. "The +hot weather is the idle time in this circle. When the crops are cut, +and tillage awaits the rains, people have no occupation; they sit round +the village 'Chabootra' and smoke and talk and quarrel; they brood over +old feuds, they argue over wrestling matches and cock fights and land, +and they kill one another with lathies or reaping hooks. I can assure +you they keep Salwey and his men pretty well on the run. We have four +murderers lying in Rajahpore jail at this moment. I say, young lady, +you are looking pulled down. Why don't you accept my wife's pressing +invitation, and join her in the hills?" + +"If Verona were to see the hills she would never return here," declared +her father with a melancholy smile. + +"It is very kind of Mrs. Lepell to ask me, but the rains may come any +day, Nani says, and it is not worth while to move." + +"There is no sign of the south-west monsoon yet," argued Mr. Lepell, +"with all due deference to Mrs. Lopez. By the way, I often notice your +mother driving to the city at the hottest time of the day. She must be +a veritable salamander!" + +"Oh yes, but Abdul Buk is ill, and her tenants are giving her a good +deal of trouble." + +"Aha! you see, the hot weather again! Please God the rains come before +long." + +The rains came at last. For dreary and hopeless months, the country +had lain bare and brown; now, almost in a night, the heat-cracked +plains were clothed with grass, and the fainting trees and plants were +lit up with young leaves; everywhere was the sound of running water! +The ducks quacked triumphantly, as they swam on the former drive; +frogs hopped hilariously about the verandah, and even invaded the +bedrooms, whilst their relations in the marshes made an uproar that +murdered sleep! Jurra river, flooded to the brim, brought down on its +breast all manner of strange things, including stranded, sand-embedded +charpoys, that had been the last resting-place of corpses--for Jurra +was a holy river--and Verona and Pussy, who had languidly rowed about +its shrunken, hot-weather dimensions, now went farther than before. +One evening as the two girls were passing below the little white house +where the police wallah lived, they descried him and his dog "Chum" +sitting together in the verandah. + +He signalled to them immediately, and came running down the steep steps +which led through the garden to the water's edge. + +"Hullo! So you are back," called Pussy from her nest among red cushions +in the stern. + +"Yes; how are you?" But as he spoke, he looked at Verona. "The weather +is getting a little cooler." + +"It is not particularly cool yet," she replied, resting on her oars and +raising a colourless face. + +"Won't you come up and see my diggings, and have some iced lemonade or +tea?" + +"Oh, do let's go, Rona?" pleaded Pussy, with outstretched fingers, +every joint of which was eloquent. "I've often been." + +"Yes, come along," he urged, fastening the boat; and he held out his +hand to Pussy, who sprang ashore with alacrity, saying: + +"I know my way! I'll go to old Jaloo, and tell him to get ready the +lemonade and cake. Oh, I must have some cake," and she bustled up the +steps, and disappeared among the orange and apricot trees. + +"No, thank you," said Verona, looking at Salwey's still extended hand; +"I prefer to wait, like the train--ten minutes for refreshments." + +"You mean to say you won't honour my poor abode! I'd like to show you +my photographs of home, and some books, and odd things I've picked up +in the district." + +"I'll come another time, but I'm a little tired. I don't think I could +face your hill." + +"I must say you look completely played out; you ought to have gone to +Aunt Lizzie. I say, I shall row you back." + +As he spoke he stepped into the boat, closely attended by "Chum," and +motioned her to the place recently occupied by her lazy sister. + +"But what about Pussy?" she asked with a faint smile, as she arranged +the cushions and leant back with a sense of well-earned repose. + +"Oh, Pussy is all right. She and old Jaloo are tremendous pals. She was +often here--with Nicky." + +Verona inclined her head. + +"Miss Chandos, this is a lucky chance!" he resumed. "I wanted to see +you alone." + +"Yes?" and she coloured faintly. + +"I have found out about the robbery and how it was effected. I've not +been away all the time, though my house has been closed. I came back to +see what the mice were doing!" + +"Yes, I--understand." She smiled as she added, "What an artful cat!" + +"One morning I went up early to the dufta and examined the walls more +minutely. I detected the marks of bare feet; it was evident that the +thief--a very thin man--climbed on the shoulders of a tall confederate, +and squeezed himself through the window, which, as you know, is high, +then cut a board out of the press and looted the jewels; the traces +of the foot-prints are faint, but I have made out that one foot lacks +a toe. Now, it happens that Abdul Buk's eldest son is as lean as a +herring, and has lost one toe in an--adventure. It was he who offered +your ring for sale; his family believe him to be in Fyzabad, but he is +really in Delhi jail. At first he swore that your mother had given him +the ring as a bribe. Now, solitary confinement, low diet, the loss of +his smoke and a wholesome fear of the law, have changed his tune!" + +"And what have you discovered?" + +"We have discovered much. For instance, that Abdul Buk--the benevolent, +the collector of cantonment house rents, the dispenser of promises, the +ladies' praised and petted Abdul--'dear old Abdul'--is nothing more or +less than a receiver of stolen goods!" + +"Nonsense--that respectable old man!" + +"Yes, and he does business on a large scale, though he takes good care +never to put his own paw into the fire. I believe I have got him at +last! Little does he suspect that he is sitting on a mine, and that the +match is in my hands----" + +"And when will you apply it?" + +"Immediately. I have some slight reason to suspect that he is one of +the agents of the notorious Saloo. If I can only bag the _two_ with one +charge, won't it be splendid?" + +"Splendid indeed; you will have gained your heart's desire, and I shall +congratulate you most sincerely." + +"I should be glad if I could catch Saloo, but the feat is not +exactly"--a pause--"my heart's desire! Saloo's identity is a dead +secret; he is an old fox. I've heard that he is a marwarri down Poonah +way, but this is not confirmed. Saloo has hitherto baffled every effort +to trace him." + +"If you were to consult my grandmother, she would advise you to look in +the ink pool!" + +"No doubt!" rejoined Salwey, with a short laugh. "Have you ever seen +her appeal to it?" + +"No; but she believes in it implicitly. It is magic, is it not?" + +"And black magic at that. I am myself orthodox, but I must admit that I +have witnessed some extraordinary and utterly unaccountable things out +here in the far East----" + +"Tell me, please, about the ink pool!" + +"Oh, well, when a native wants to find out something, he gets hold of +a small boy, bribes him with promises, takes him to some quiet spot, +pours ink into the palm of his hand and commands him to look, and to +report what he sees!" + +"Yes----" + +"The seer is supposed to describe some remarkable scenes. One of my +constables consulted the oracle with respect to Saloo. Personally and +officially I am not supposed to countenance such--irregularities." + +"No, but you heard the result," said the young lady, with an air of +conviction. "What did the child see? What did he say?" + +"He said he saw Saloo--and that Saloo was a woman!" + +"Oh!" cried Verona, suddenly sitting erect. "Now that is too +ridiculous; no woman could be so crafty--or so--wicked." + +"Many women are both." + +"You speak from experience----?" + +"No, thank God; I know little about them!" + +For a moment there was an absolute silence, merely broken by the soft +lapping of the water against the sides of the old boat. Salwey looked +at his companion as she reclined among the cushions; her home life was +telling upon her, the East was stealing her rare beauty, her face was +colourless, the exquisite outlines of cheek and throat were emaciated, +and the brilliant eyes looked lack-lustre and spiritless. + +"Tell me," she began suddenly, "is it only children who see things in +the ink pool?" + +"Yes. Only children!" + +"But why?" + +"They are supposed to be endowed with some ethereal gift, which remains +with them until their hearts are touched, their emotions awake; then +it leaves them--the power is lost--the door, as they say out here, is +shut." + +"What a pity! I wonder if I am too old to look into the ink pool?" + +"You have never, I infer, cared two straws for any one?" + +She shook her head--slowly--and as she did so the truth came to her in +one dazzling flash--she cared for _him_! He had touched her heart. It +was amazing to discover that of all her suitors, with their advantages +of social status, wealth, surroundings, the only one who had aroused +her interest was this Indian police officer, who sat there within a +few yards, bareheaded, grave-eyed, with his arms resting on the oars. +It was true that he was poor; a miserable "parti" from a worldly point +of view, but he was a strong man!--a strong man, armed with many fine +qualities, who had entered her heart and closed the door on all others. +Were she still Verona--the heiress--she would gladly be his wife, but +as Verona--the Eurasian--she must keep her secret from him and all. But +oh, what a temptation! To go away from Manora, to forget--to go with +Brian, who loved her--for her own sake----! + +No, no, no; for his own sake she would never marry Brian Salwey. + +As the lady's reply was a suspiciously long time in coming, her +companion said: + +"Besides, you are disqualified! If you have never loved--many have +loved you!" + +"What do you mean?" she asked. "How can--you know? At home----" + +"At home I imagine your conquests were Legion. Out here--there is Haig." + +"No, no," she protested; "he does not care; he cannot forgive my birth. +Once he volunteered to be my champion--there is an end of all that." + +"Well then, there is myself," was Salwey's bold announcement. +"I--whatever comes or goes--will wear your colours to the end of my +life, between my heart and armour! Accept me--as your knight?" + +And "Chum," the dog, leaning his muzzle over his master's arm, seemed +to second the proposal. + +Verona looked down and slowly shook her head; never had she felt so +miserable. She seemed to see the panorama of her future, the absolute +weariness, and absence of interest from her life. And yet it must be +so! Then, with a sudden movement, she raised her face, and confronted +her companion. Hard work and the hot weather had told upon him also. +There was not an ounce of superfluous flesh upon his figure, the keen +blue eyes were sunken and his jaw bone was squarely prominent. + +"You must wear the colours of some other lady," she said in a low voice. + +"No," he answered resolutely; "yours only--till I die; I will never +give you up." + +"See, I have brought you some lemonade, you lazy people!" said a voice +behind Salwey. And there was Pussy, her face wreathed with smiles, her +hands full of cake, and Salwey's vain old bearer--his venerable beard +dyed red--standing beside her with a little tray and two tumblers of +liquid in which tinkled blocks of ice. Salwey rose at once, and handed +one of these to Verona, and took the other himself. + +"I wish your enterprise success," said the girl, as she smiled at him +gravely before drinking. + +"To my heart's desire," he replied with significance, as he pledged her +with a bow, and tossed off the contents of the glass. + +"Now, I am going to row you back," he said, turning to Pussy, "if you +will get in, and sit here beside your sister." + +"O--ah! how nice! O--ah! I do love being rowed--it is such hard work--I +do hate it!" + +In a few minutes the trio had floated off, leaving Jaloo, the red +bearded, with his spotless coat and pointed leather shoes, standing, +tray in hand, watching their progress with eyes of grim disapproval. + +There was the boat moving slowly up the surface of the broad, shining +river, now swollen far above its usual limits, its brimming waters +almost on a level with the plains; in the prow sat a white dog, in +the stern two dark-haired girls in white; in the midst his master, +bareheaded, rowing against the current with long, easy strokes. A rainy +season sunset lit up the scene with a magnificent blaze of crimson and +orange; the combined brilliance cast a dazzling glamour over the water, +and the figures in the boat seemed transmuted to gold. + +"What a fool was his master!" grunted Jaloo, as he stood gazing; "was +he not well enough, and yet he would surely marry one of those women, +doubtless the girl with the proud eyes, whom they in the bazaar called +the 'Belait' (Europe) Missy." With this conviction he turned his back +on the receding bank, and proceeded to toil up to the bungalow with his +tray of jingling glasses, grunting and grumbling all the way. + +"I do believe it was you who sent us all the books and mangoes this +hot season," said Pussy; "now, was it not, Mr. Salwey? Mother thought +they came from some of Dom's friends. Oh, the mangoes were so good and +juicy. I loved them--but Verona loved the books." + +"I am glad you were both pleased," rejoined Salwey with a smile. + +"Dom doesn't read now, nor Mother; she is so busy at her own books, +since Abdul Buk has a boil on his neck. Oh, goody me! she does work. +All day long and half the night." + +"At books? Do you mean that your mother writes?" + +"No, no, no; only in account books--about her propertee--and she has +such piles of them! I saw them," giggled Pussy; "I peeped into the +office the other day, when she was with Nani. My, such books! all +ruled, like a draught board. Such rows and rows of figures!" + +"Surely you must be making a mistake?" and Salwey paused abruptly, +resting on his oars, and contemplated Pussy with a glint of steel in +his blue eyes, "only one class keeps accounts that way." + +"But no, no, no; I am quite certain," she giggled. "I thought it +awfully queer--and what class do keep such funny books?" + +"Money-lenders," was his curt reply. + +"Mother is so fond of figures--oh, so mad about them. Perhaps," still +giggling, "she is playing at being a soucar." + +"Perhaps; but she never struck me as a likely person to play--at +anything!" + +Oh, Pussy, Pussy! what a gigantic cat you have suffered to escape +through your imprudence! You have aroused the dawn of a suspicion in +your boatman's shrewd mind! + +The golden light disappeared with the rude abruptness of an Eastern +sunset; then came the changing touch in the air, the smell of rank +water plants, the flip of a bat's wing; a silence and gloom which had +fallen on the landscape was shared, for some inexplicable reason, by +the little party in the boat. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIX + + +Two evenings after this boating party Mr. Lepell and his nephew had +a long interview with Mr. Chandos, who heard with astonishment that +in Abdul Buk's house in the bazaar part of his daughter's jewellery +had been recovered. That Abdul Buk's money ledgers had been examined, +and he stood exposed as a cheat, a swindler, and a thief. He was a +true wolf in sheep's clothing, who had contrived to pass himself off +as an inoffensive, if somewhat garrulous, old man. Terrified by his +situation, Abdul had turned King's evidence, and had confessed all, and +figuratively given away his employer. His employer--incredible as it +seemed--was Mrs. Chandos. + +It was she, who for twenty long years had been the chief usurer in +Rajahpore; she it was, who had lent money, taken bonds, charged huge +interest, extorted pitilessly, ground down the faces of the poor, and +was very wealthy. It seemed inconceivable, but it was proved beyond +doubt that Rosa Chandos was no other than the notorious "Saloo." Her +husband lived too much with his splendid dreams, his books, and his +opium (alas! for those little black pills), to realise who Saloo was; +for, as he had repeatedly assured Mr. Lepell, he had nothing to do +with soucars now. His monthly salary he handed to his wife; and Rosa, +his wife, was a notorious usurer! At first he declared that it was +impossible--for one thing, she had no capital. + +"She had a large amount of capital, secured in her mother's name, in +the Bank of Bengal, as well as shares in half the good things in India. +She had impressed deeds and papers which did not belong to her, and +she must relinquish them at once, or her office would be searched. We +will wait here, Chandos," said Mr. Lepell, "and you can talk to your +wife about it. These papers are the property of zemindars, her debtors; +she has come by them illegally. If they are not given up, there will +be a row. Salwey and I wish to manage this thing quietly, for the sake +of you and your family, and that is one reason why Brian rode out here +before dark and came first to me, so as to disarm any notice; but he +has a search warrant in his pocket." + +"God knows, I have gone through many things in my life," declared Mr. +Chandos, with dignity, "and I have been brought low in the world; my +wife has her faults, but she is no money-lender, that is certain." + +It was also certain that Mrs. Chandos happened to be in a peculiarly +bad temper that evening; she had had a quarrel with Dominga; and +although she adored Dom, they had their little differences. + +Dom was the only creature who dared to withstand her mother, and their +disputes were terrible. Beginning in the ordinary every-day English +tongue, as the altercation waxed in fury, they passed into shrill +Hindustani, from that to "Gali" (abuse), and to hear the pair when the +battle was raging an outsider would have supposed them to be a couple +of mad grass cutters! Mrs. Chandos was walking about the dining-room in +a highly-strung condition, when her breath was almost taken away by her +husband entering the room and demanding "the keys of her office!" + +At such an impudent request, she simply laughed in his face. + +"Give them at once, Rosa," he said, with astonishing decision, "and +clear your character; there are terrible charges against you. If +what the police say is true, you have covered us all with shame and +disgrace." + +For a moment Mrs. Chandos was too paralysed to speak, but she speedily +found her tongue, and overwhelmed her husband with such a torrent of +wild, shrieking abuse, that she literally drove the poor man before +her, backing him down the verandah steps into his own sanctum. +Then turning swiftly about, she found herself face to face with +Salwey--Salwey, in full official dress (a khaki uniform, with narrow +red collar, spurred boots, and cord breeches). + +"The keys of your office, if you please," he said, holding out his hand. + +"Get out of my house," she screamed. "Get away!" + +"The keys of your office," he repeated, with the utmost composure, "I +do not wish to proceed to extreme measures, but I have a search warrant +here, and I will break open the door." + +"What do you want, you thief! you beast! you spy!" + +"Stolen bonds and documents which I've every reason to believe are +in your possession. The keys!" He spoke with an air of decision and +command. + +The keys were not to be had, and to the astonishment of the peeping +servants, the door of the dufta was taken off its hinges and Mr. +Lepell and Salwey entered in the wake of two men in blue coats and red +turbans--in other words, constables. The desk was opened, also the +press. These did not yield much, but thanks to a hint from Abdul Buk, +the rug was lifted, and the trap door laid bare. Everything necessary +to incriminate Mrs. Chandos was found in this secret hiding-place. +Their owner looked on in silence, but her pocket handkerchief was torn +into rags, and in her eyes sat two devils. The bulk of the papers were +carried into Mr. Chandos' smoking-room, and subsequently examined at +leisure. + +Yes, these were the books of "Saloo"; there were her webs, there were +her flies. There were receipts, there were letters from Abdul Buk, +replying to certain instructions; there were bags of rupees and notes, +the ledgers disclosed receipts for very large sums invested in various +ways. Mrs. Chandos had followed her effects with hysterical screams, +precisely like some bird of prey whose nest had been robbed! Finally, +she stood in the middle of the room, unashamed, furious--and at bay. +Mr. Lepell, Salwey, Dominga and Verona were present, as well as poor +old Mrs. Lopez, who cowered in a corner muttering to herself and +weeping audibly. + +When these proofs of guilt and rapacity, cruelty and avarice had been +exposed, Mr. Chandos turned to his wife, and said in a shaky voice: + +"So, for twenty years you have secretly carried on your father's trade. +Whilst your children have lacked education and common necessaries, you +have hoarded money and been the ruin of hundreds. And I thought, till +to-day, that I was beyond the reach of shame! I thought that after long +penance I might once more venture out and face the world. My cousin +is dead and, as Mr. Lepell is aware, I have been summoned to England +to take up my place there as head of the family. Since Nicky is gone, +there is no heir to come after me; but for the sake of my girls I had +almost decided to claim my own. This," turning fiercely on her, "I will +never do now. Do you suppose I will put such a woman as _you_ in my +aunt's place? No, I will let my name be called across the seas in vain. +I will live and die out here--an obscure Anglo-Indian." + +At the name of Charne, and the news of her husband's succession to the +property, Mrs. Chandos' face changed, her eyes lit up like beacons. + +"Bah! you old guddah!" she cried, "these men have stuffed your head +with silly nonsense; if I did take interest, what harm? I traded with +my own money. As to Charne--since you are hanging back, _I_ will go to +England, and claim it _for_ you." + +From many years of terrible experience her husband knew that she +invariably carried out her threats, and in a sudden transport of fear +and fury he snatched the picture of Charne off the wall, smashed the +glass, and destroyed the sketch. + +"Idiot!" jeered his wife, "you will be sorry for that to-morrow. You +have broken your fetish!" + +"And these papers," he said, dragging a packet from a drawer, "are the +proofs of my identity." He held them towards his wife, and then with a +sudden, furious energy, tore them into shreds, and scattered them over +the floor. + +"Charne is only mine for life," he gasped breathlessly, "the place is +strictly entailed. For the rest of my days I live here--because of +_you_. I am sorry for the girls; and of all my children, I am most +sorry for Verona." + +"Verona!" interrupted Mrs. Chandos, at last finding her voice; her face +was working and livid with fury. "You throw away your great estate to +punish _me_! Oh, ho! Well, now! see--I will punish you!" + +She glared at her husband, as if she was going to fly at his throat; +then she drew one long breath, and announced with grim composure: + +"Verona is not our daughter." + + + + + CHAPTER XL + + +"Oh, ho! yes, it is true what I say," continued Mrs. Chandos, breaking +a dead, incredulous silence; "she is no more to us than this book," and +she seized a copy of "The Newcomes" and pitched it across the room. + +"Aré, it is a relief to my heart to speak and to get rid of her," and +she turned and looked at Verona; "for ever since I had aught to do with +that girl she has been my thorn and curse." + +"You are beside yourself, Mrs. Chandos," protested Mr. Lepell, "all +this excitement is too much for you. Mrs. Lopez, will you not take your +daughter away and persuade her to lie down?" + +"Cha-a-ah! I am not beside myself," screamed the fury with a stamp, +"and if you will listen--all of you--you shall hear the true story." As +she spoke, she flung herself panting into a chair. + +"Oh! it is more than twenty-six years ago since I married that oloo" +(owl), and she indicated Mr. Chandos as she spoke and stared back +deliberately into every gazing face. "Oh, he was so lazy! We lived up +in the hills at first--and he used to just loaf and shoot; one cannot +pay bazaar on that. We had two children, Blanche and Pussy; they +were--not fair, no, and I could see that he was awfully disappointed. +Money was low just before our third child was expected, and so he went +down to the plains to seek for an appointment. The baby, a little girl, +was born at Murree. She was very dark--once again--_so_ dark! I knew +you would be very vexed," turning on him; "you were always hoping for a +fair baby--that would be a true Chandos." + +Mr. Chandos endeavoured to interrupt, but she silenced him with a wild +gesture of her hand. "No, no, no! Wait! wait! wait! I will not be long. +In the little bungalow next to mine was a pretty young English girl, +an officer's wife; she had a baby and she died, but her baby lived. I +lived--my baby died. You begin to see. Eh?" She paused and gazed about +her. Her audience were now dumb. + +"Her husband, a young artillery officer, was crazy with grief. Aré, it +was bad! They were not long out from home, and seemed friendless. He +was going to Afghanistan immediately on active service; our bungalows +were in the same compound, and so he came to me, and he said: + +"'Look here, I believe you are an officer's wife, and have just lost +your baby; will you take my poor little one, like a good, Christian +woman, and be a mother to her till I come back? I have eight hundred +pounds in the Bank of Bombay. I shall make a will; if anything should +happen to me it will go to you altogether, if you will undertake to +provide for the child.' Well, he was so awfully handsome, and in such +awful trouble, and the baby was so pretty and so fair, I, like a fool, +agreed! His name was Hargreaves--Eliot Hargreaves--and his wife had +run away with him. She was engaged to someone at home--oh, a grand +match--but she preferred the poor young officer, and eloped with him +to India. She was an earl's daughter. Her name was Lady Vera Bourne; +the child was called after her, but I named her Veronica. Of course, +I heard all about this runaway match from the ayah--and that both the +families were so angry; the couple were in great disgrace, and got no +letters, and they were very, very poor. They lived in quite a cheap +little bungalow, not much better than mine. Three weeks after Mr. +Hargreaves marched with his battery he was killed at Maiwand; so I +claimed the money which he had left me, and passed off the child as my +own. No one knew the truth except two ayahs, also a native apothecary +and a native pleader, who got me the money. When my husband saw the +child she was three months old; and oh he was _so_ pleased with the +little fair Chandos!" + +Here the narrator paused for a moment, closed her eyes, shook her head, +and laughed with shrill derision. + +"Oh, yes, she was a pretty baby! she used to be called the little +'Rani'; when she was two years old, Fernande Godez came to see my +mother, took a fancy to the child, and offered to adopt her. Well, then +I was in great luck and got her off my hands. She goes to England with +her, and was brought up really like a little princess. But at the end +of twenty years, back she comes--there she is," gesticulating with a +tremulous hand. "From first to last, as I said before, she has been my +curse. With the money her father left me I began my banking business; +I could never have done so otherwise; and according to all of you I +have been awfully wicked! Well! it was _her_ money that tempted me! +As for herself, she comes here, and has stolen from me the affection +of my husband, of my daughter"--pointing to Pussy--"of my poor son +Nicky, and even"--indicating Mrs. Lopez--"my mother! It was owing to +her that Salwey has always been coming about Manora. It was owing to +her jewels, which I showed to Abdul Buk, that the poor man was tempted, +and he has been shamed and put in gaol. Vera Hargreaves"--pointing +to Verona--"you have nothing to do with us, and so you go out of this +house." She pointed to the door. "Good-a-bye!" + +"But what proof have you of this extraordinary story?" demanded Mr. +Lepell, who seemed to be the only person who had retained his wits. + +"Oh, plenty of proof! The old apothecary at Murree is still alive, and +will bear out my tale about Lady Vera. The chaplain who christened the +baby when she was but three days old can speak, and the name of Vera +Hargreaves will be in the church register. Besides, I have a photograph +of her mother which the ayah gave me. I have a letter from young +Hargreaves after he left Murree, and a little card-case and a book with +a crest inside. I don't know why I kept these things, I am sure, but +since the girl came out I have felt certain that this blow-up would +have to happen some day--and here it is!" + +The confession was evidently a dreadful shock to Mr. Chandos; the fire +of his indignation had died down; he sat crouched up in his chair in +a condition of mental and physical collapse. Verona had been with him +less than twelve months, and yet she was far dearer to him than any of +his children. The blow seemed to have broken his heart; he gazed at +the girl, his face working, his eyes dim with pain, and held out his +trembling hands. + +She went over to him, looking very white, and said: + +"I cannot realize this news, it seems incredible; I am most +unfortunate--I seem to belong to no one." + +(Whilst she was speaking, Mrs. Chandos had risen and rushed out of the +room, and in another moment she might be heard uttering shriek after +shriek, and indulging in a terrible attack of her screaming hysterics.) + +"I shall always think of you as my father, though I suppose I shall +have to go away. I daresay kind Mrs. Cavalho will take me in for a few +days?" + +"Oh, Verona!" and Pussy rose and threw her arms round her. "You cannot +leave _me_! you must not leave us! you must not! you must not! I cannot +live without you--it will kill me! You shall not stir, for I shall +die!" and she burst into a flood of tears. + +"The best thing to be done," said Mr. Lepell, "is for you to go up to +Lizzie; I suppose you can remain here for the night, and I will take +you to Naini Tal myself to-morrow." + +All this time Salwey had remained in the background, listening to +Mrs. Chandos' wild confession. He now came forward and made a rather +important statement: "You remember the lady who sat opposite us at the +ball supper, Miss Chandos--Lady Ida Eustace. Her sister, Lady Vera, +married a Mr. Hargreaves. It is quite true that it was a runaway match, +and all the family were implacable until poor Lady Vera died in India, +and then she was forgiven. It was a tragic story. I remember hearing +of it as a boy--of beautiful Lady Vera, and how her husband was killed +three weeks after her death. The baby, it seems, did not die after all; +Lady Ida, you see, is your own aunt, so you are not entirely without +someone belonging to you. Well, now, I think," taking his uncle's arm, +"we had better go away; you have to make your arrangements for an early +start to-morrow." + + + + + CHAPTER XLI + + +The days which followed her momentous confession were passed by Mrs. +Chandos in the darkness and seclusion of her own room (and on the +bungalow there fell a sense of extraordinary peace). Here she gave +audience to her mother and to Verona. Sitting in that dim apartment, +watched by a pair of implacable black eyes, Verona heard the details +of her parentage and infancy. Mrs. Chandos rendered up to her the +letters, photograph and proofs, which established her as the child of +another race. She also urged her to remain with them until Mrs. Lepell +came down from the hills. In Manora nothing of importance was ever +undertaken without the help or countenance of the reigning lady; and +if Verona went away suddenly, there would be--oh, such talk! Verona, +whose affection for Mr. Chandos, Pussy and Nani, was very real and +warm, agreed to remain as a member of the household until arrangements +were completed for her return to England; and in those critical days +Verona's manner was a beautiful study in tact and forbearance. The +news that she was only a child by adoption, and that her name was +Hargreaves, was allowed to gradually ooze out to the ears of the +neighbours, who had been secretly wondering what all the smothered fuss +had been about; and what was the cause of so many letters and telegrams +being delivered at the Chandos bungalow? + +Mrs. Lepell had telegraphed and written to Verona, urging her to join +her--she was not strong, and to descend to the plains in the rainy +season was impossible. In October or November she was going to England +and could escort her friend home. But Mr. Chandos clung to Verona in a +way that was pathetic; Nani and Pussy bewailed her suggested departure +so loudly and so continuously, that she decided to remain in Manora for +the present. + +The Trotters and Watkins were aware that a great stirring of the waters +had recently taken place in their vicinity; they were acquainted with +the tale of the adopted daughter--but they did not know all. Much was +known in the bazaar, but not elsewhere--when the station has one topic, +the bazaar has a dozen. Even the bazaar could not guess why Salwey +Sahib was staying at the big bungalow--instead of at home; nor did it +know that for hours he was closeted in the dufta with Mrs. Chandos. +Brian Salwey had discovered Saloo, after much toilsome search, and +yet now he was anxious to hush up her identity, and to conceal her +iniquities. With this sole end in view, this truly brave man passed +whole mornings alone with Mrs. Chandos and her ledgers. He, too, had +a capital head for figures, and went systematically through all her +books, and discovered that although morally a culprit of the blackest +dye, yet she just managed to keep herself clear of the sword of +Justice. There is no law to prevent people paying (and they will) one +hundred per cent. But Salwey was strong and resolute; piece by piece he +wrenched her prey from the clutches of Saloo. In spite of her shrill +expostulations during those long early hours, mortgages were remitted, +claims were abated, restitution was made; The process was almost like +dragging a calf from a famished tigress, but it was accomplished +with inexorable determination. Mrs. Chandos's usual weapons, such as +imprecations, abuse, personal insults, and piercing screams, might +just as well have been addressed to a stone as to the figure who was +steadily working through her accounts. Such an attitude amazed her; +she had struck terror to the hearts of her father and her husband--but +this calm, austere young man, he frightened her. Day by day she saw her +balance ebbing--day by day she restored sums of money to those she had +despoiled. She was compelled to sign orders, and letters, and receipts, +that made her writhe with impotent rage. Once, in an early stage of the +proceedings, she had rebelled and shrieked out: + +"Why should I permit this robbery? I will not--I defy you! What can you +do to me?" + +"I can acquaint the world with your identity--and cover your family +with shame." + +"Cha-a-ah! I care not!" she screamed, "who hath money, hath many +friends!" + +"Also," he continued gravely, "it will cost you your life!" + +"Am I a fool?" + +"No, and therefore you will comprehend that your enemies are legion; +you have been the cause of much suffering, and even of death; you will +not keep your gain and go free." + +"What! do you threaten?" she yelled. + +"I believe I can protect you from ambush and assassination, but here +poison is a fine art; all who know of her, spit upon the name of +Saloo, and whoever rids the world of Saloo, would be well thought of +by his fellows. Your days would be numbered--worth about a month's +purchase--you must buy your life!" + +"Buy it, of you?" + +"Yes, in a way--for I am shielding you. Were I to transfer this +frightful business to others"--here he struck the ledger before +him--"and it is the work of several men--would they be silent?" + +She was dumb. + +Like all bullies, Saloo was an arrant coward. Moreover, she had no wish +to die--as a girl, she had seen one case of poisoning, and it sufficed. +Therefore, she succumbed, though her voice still rose loud and shrill; +and over each payment there was a protracted struggle. + +Occasionally as Verona sat with her late grandmother, she could hear +the low growl of a man, and then a high prolonged reply. One day, +as she was arranging Nani's knitting--she now aspired to socks--the +ventilator between the two rooms, which was always shut fast, suddenly +fell open, and a torrent of shrill and distinct abuse instantly flooded +the room. + +"What, all this trouble and toil for Chandos, and to save him, and his +good name--'tis a lie, you do it for that girl! Bah, you love her! Now +she is a great lady, do you think she would look at such as you--a pig +of a police wallah--I know her sort." + +Verona rose, and hurried over to close the ventilator, and as she +reached vainly for the cord, she heard: + +"Come, now, Mrs. Chandos, don't excite yourself. Let us stick to +business." + +"But you know Verona will go to England, and never think of you again. +Eh, _speak_? Say you know!" + +"Yes, I know," came the reply, "now be good enough to sign here." And +at this instant Verona, with a brilliant colour in her face, succeeded +in reaching the cord, and violently slamming the little shutter. So now +she understood why Mr. Salwey had seemed so determined to avoid her. +Why he scarcely spoke when they met to the grand-daughter of the Earl +of Sombourne, though formerly he had been on the best of terms with the +granddaughter of Nani Lopez! He accepted the change in her fortune like +a stoic, and had tacitly and resolutely relinquished her! She almost +wished she were once more a humble Eurasian--the _protégée_ of his Aunt +Liz. + +During these last weeks, those tedious trying weeks at the end of +the rains, Mr. Chandos had been ailing, and the thought of losing +Verona filled him with despair. He could not endure the mention of +her departure, although he knew that she must soon be restored to her +relations, and the Melvilles, who had written out to claim her; Verona +divided her time between Mrs. Lopez in the mornings, and Mr. Chandos +in the evenings; she read to him, talked to him, cheered him, and had +almost persuaded him to return to England with her and see his beloved +Charne. + +"Yes, I really think I would die happy, if I could behold it once +more," he exclaimed; "people change--but places do not." + +"Then you will come home with me," she urged, "yes, in the same ship. +What a good time we shall have together; the sea voyage will set you +up! There is nothing like the sea." + +"Ah," he said, "I've no doubt it would; but what am I to do with +_them_? They could never go home. Imagine my wife in county society--as +Mrs. Chandos of Charne." + +"I am now going to ask you what I have never dared to do before. Would +you mind telling me why you married Mrs. Chandos?" + +"I married her," he answered, "chiefly to pay my cousin's debts. He +was deeply involved in her father's books. I had backed his bills; he +deserted me and went home; I remained to face dishonour. Miss Lopez, +the money-lender's daughter, was good enough to like me. Her father +offered to release me, if I would make her my wife, and I did"--here +an involuntary sigh escaped him--"for between that and ruin I had no +alternative. Pussy is a good girl; you will be kind to her, I know; +somehow I don't think you and Dominga ever had much in common. Your +aunt has written out for you, I saw her last letter and telegram--what +date does she name?" + +"The fifteenth of October, but I can put it off; I will wait until you +feel ready to come home. Even if you do return here--surely you should +see Charne? Yes, and show it to _me_, and wind up all your affairs." + +"I will think it over, Verona; somehow when you talk to me, I feel +inspired with hope and courage. I have not been home for twenty-nine +years--to return has always been my dream! Well, my dear, I will sleep +on your advice!" + +The next morning a servant coming in early to sweep and dust the room, +discovered his master still sitting in his arm-chair--asleep, with a +beautiful smile upon his face--the smile of one who was happy. Mindoo +had never yet seen the Sahib's expression so serene. But why was he so +still--so quiet? + +The question was readily answered--Mr. Chandos had gone home. + + + + + CHAPTER XLII + + +The difficulties in the path of his true love had but increased Jimmy +Fielder's interest in Dominga--now that Dom was unattainable, she +appeared to be almost indispensable to his happiness. He had been bored +to death in the Terai, and bitten by the most ferocious of insects, +grilled alive and half starved, all for one mangy tiger skin! He had +been equally bored on a hill station; none of the girls were half as +amusing as Dom--poor Dom, who was breaking her heart for him on the dim +blue plains far below. Now and then he strolled to a certain point and +gazed down, and thought of that sparkling face, those ruddy locks, +that lithe form and nimble tongue--the recollection of those days was +still sharp and vivid. Then came an unexpected summons home, which +blurred the vision. His father had tendered the olive branch and a +handsome cheque; Lord Highstreet was failing fast, and his son, for +his part, was now thoroughly sick of India. Captain Fielder hurried +to Rajahpore in order to settle up, collect his belongings and say +good-bye to the regiment and the Service. He must also say good-bye +to Dom! She had made the memory of his stay on the plains a joy for +ever, and he would send her a jolly present from Streeter's, as soon +as he got home. Of course he had heard of the death of Mr. Chandos, +and he was aware that the family had been in some mysterious trouble; +the victoria, full of gay cushions, no longer waited under a certain +tree near the club, nor were there any more letters to be found in "Two +Kisses." + +Captain Fielder had already secured his passage and paid his farewell +calls; the station was almost empty, the ladies were in the hills. He +was an idle man, and Fate finds some mischief still for idle men to do! +Inspired by Fate, he made up his mind to drive out to Manora, in broad +daylight, and interview Dom, and see if his memory had not flattered +her too much. + +Captain Fielder was ushered into the drawing-room, and then in +another moment she had flown to him, gasping and sobbing with joy and +astonishment. She clung to his neck, her sweet breath (a peculiarity of +Eurasians) fanning his cheek, her glorious hair falling back, her eyes +gazing into his own. He succumbed at once to her spell, her wonderful +seduction--her, for him, fearful fascination. Oh, why was she not a +lady? and one he could marry and take home, for Dom was so entirely to +his taste; ever the same, yet never boring him. + +"Oh, why should he not please himself, why? why?" he mentally exclaimed +with impotent fury. + +"Oh, ho! So you are the beast that has broken my daughter's heart," +cried a shrill voice, and Mrs. Chandos, in funereal weeds, darted into +the room. "It is well poor Chandos is dead, and does not know of your +wickedness!" + +"What do you mean, Madam?" he demanded, now releasing Dom, and boldly +facing his assailant. + +"That you wanted her to run away with you. Oh, yes, we arl know _that_, +and now you are coming to say good-bye, and thank you very much, before +you go to England." + +"Oh, he is not going to England!" screamed Dominga, seizing him by the +arm, whilst her face assumed a sudden pallor, and her nostrils quivered +nervously. + +"Yes, he is; he goes in the _Persia_, on the fourth," said her mother. +"Is it not so?" and she flashed on him a look of fury. + +Jimmy nodded his head emphatically, and Dominga broke into a wailing +cry. + +"Well, now I will speak plainly; before you go," said Mrs. Chandos, +"you shall marry Dominga, and take her with you." + +"Oh, impossible! nonsense!" protested her visitor, in an angry voice. + +"No, no; not at all im-possible. You do many bad things; you pretend to +every one you don't know my daughter, at all; you come out here on the +sly, sly--all Manora saw you; you make love, but you do _not_ break her +heart and then leave her. You marry her, then you go!" + +"But my good lady----" he interrupted. + +"Cho-op!" she screamed, "see, now, I give you your choice; you take +her--or you take--_me_!" + +"What? you are mad--raving!" + +"Yes; me, me, me," indicating herself with three sharp finger taps; "I +am not poor, and I follow you all over the world, and I punish you. +First, I tell the station; then I go to the orderly room and tell the +Colonel; next, I write to your father! See, look, I swear it. I, too, +take passage in _Persia_--sit at your table; every now and then I call +'Rascal! rascal! rascal!' So, too, in England; I follow in the street; +I point, and cry 'Rascal, rascal, rascal!'" + +"The police----" he began. + +"Police take me up--arl-right. Say she is crazy! I go to court, I tell +all the story--what fun for the newspapers, and all the world will +know, and they will laugh, laugh, laugh, and cry shame. This I do, +if it cost my life, and my money. Whatever I want I get. You ask! my +husband could tell you--what I will happens; ask my mother and Dominga. +I always come out what you call 'top dog!' So now you speak, and say +which you take in the _Persia_--Dominga or me?" + +Her black gown had the effect of making Mrs. Chandos look judicial +and almost diabolical. She spoke rapidly, but with complete +self-possession, only that a light in her eyes flickered like the flame +of a candle. + +Poor Jimmy was completely dominated by this fierce little iron-willed +half-caste. Her victim felt instinctively that she would surely carry +out her threat, and be as bad as her word. Well, after all, why should +he not marry Dom? The present moment was critical--the future--was the +future. He was immensely fond of Dom. She was handsome, dashing and +clever, and adored him. Away from Manora she would be quite a striking +personality. It was her background--for instance, this devilish mother +of hers--which played the mischief. + +Yes, yes; he would do it--marry Dom before the magistrate, or by +special license, and wire for another passage--and, fired with this +reckless resolve, he drawled: + +"I say, you need not make such a confounded hullaballoo!" turning +suddenly on his future mother-in-law; "I intend to marry Dominga!" + +And Dominga, who had been clinging to his arm until now, on hearing +this announcement, slipped down to the floor in a limp heap. She had +fainted. + +Here was a fine piece of news for all the station, the bazaar, the +factory, the letters to the hills--"Captain Fielder had actually +married, by special license, Dom Chandos, and they had gone home in +the _Persia_! What would his father say?" + +And it had all been so secret! such a general hoodwinking was as +incredible as it was successful. Poor Colonel Palgrave! Poor Mrs. +Palgrave! Poor Mrs. Grundy! + +Dominga, in the midst of the hastiest preparations, and the most +bewildering happiness, nevertheless found time to pay a hurried visit +to the Trotters and to Blanche. She was marrying Jimmy for himself, but +to be in a position to tell Blanche and Lizzie that she would one day +be Lady Highstreet, and that in the meantime they must put "Honourable" +on her letters, was a joy that repaid her for many weeks of sorrow. +Lord Highstreet had transported his heir to India in order to avoid an +undesirable match, his son was now returning, and bringing (did his +father but know!) as wife, one of the daughters of the people! + +The true history of the Honourable Mrs. J. Fielder remained a profound +secret. Chandos was a good name; she was the grandchild of Chandos +of Charne, and talked not a little of her ancestors. Dom, clever, +imitative Dom! easily adapted herself to circumstances. She carried her +head high, she dressed well, and had a just sense of her own place in +the world. To see her in her carriage in the Park, with Jimmy grinning +beside her, they presented a charming and instructive picture of +domestic felicity--and in spite of his gallant boast, Master Jimmy _is_ +kept in bounds! + +Mrs. Fielder's accent is unquestionably a little foreign--and when +extremely angry she has been known to break out into the language of +an unknown tongue--but then she is so accomplished! Who would believe +the graceful figure trailing about the lawns of Hurlingham was the +self-same woman, who, not so long ago, at a certain railway crossing, +had dashed herself down, torn her hair, beat her head upon the ground, +and called upon heaven and earth with heart-rending cries. + +Dom has one little boy. He is not the least like his parents, who are +both fair--he is too absurdly dark! His complexion is a puzzle to the +entire Highstreet connection, but Dom herself is silent! She knows +perfectly well (and buries the truth in her heart) that her darling +Villiers Augustus bears a fatal resemblance to his dear little Indian +cousin, Chandos Montagu-Jones! + + + + + CHAPTER XLIII + + +The marriage and departure of Dominga was a signal for the general +break-up of the Chandos household. The bungalow belonged to the +factory--and they must all seek another home. Pussy was now betrothed +to her Alonzo, who through Lepell interest had been promised a fine +post at Tundla Junction. Nani Lopez was to accompany her daughter into +the "Doon," for Mrs. Chandos had still ample means, and was enabled +(though shorn of her ill-gotten spoils) to give Pussy a fortune, and to +personally live at her ease. It may here be mentioned that she and her +parent spent the hot seasons in Mussouri, where, as the mother of Lady +Highstreet, she receives in certain circles a considerable amount of +agreeable attention. + +The news of Verona's existence came as a delightful shock to the Bourne +and Hargreaves families. Her new relatives were all eagerness to +welcome poor Vera's girl with open arms, not to speak of the invitation +she received from her friends, the Melvilles. It was arranged that she +was to return home with Mrs. Lepell in November, and when it came to +her very last hours in the Chandos Kothi, the grief of Pussy and Nani +was profound. Poor Pussy wept incessantly as she hung about her adored +Verona. + +"Only Alonzo has promised to take me _home_ some day," she sobbed; "I +would not marry him--and I would die--never to see you again--to think +of it! I could not live--No!" + +"And why do you cry so?" remonstrated Nani. "Behold me!" her old face +looked sharpened and blanched; two unshed tears glittered in her eyes. +"I love Verona more than you do, and yet I shall never see her again. +For me there is no hope; yet I do not weep. Verona has done good here, +now she goes elsewhere--what says the proverb? 'Great rivers, medicinal +plants, and virtuous people, are born, not for themselves, but for the +good of others.' She goes to do good elsewhere, and I shall come and +stay with you at Tundla, and we," stroking Verona's cheek, "will often +talk of _her_." + +"I will never forget you, dear, dear Nani," whispered the girl. "Be +sure of that, and I will write to you often--and send you such pretty +wools." + +"Ah, core of my soul, no wool will make up for thee! And what of +Johnny?" + +"I would like to take him, but it would be selfish--here he has his +freedom and all his friends." At the moment he was executing gymnastic +feats among the lattice work; there was a rustle, a pair of watchful +eyes, a swift patter, and Johnny, with a new blue ribbon round his +neck, joined the party, and fearlessly climbed into his lady's lap. + +"Aré, see, I have half a mind to take him to the Doon," announced Nani. + +"No, no, Nani, let him stay here," pleaded Verona, "where he was first +found. As long as he lives, he will be a happy little monument to you, +and me--you saved his life, and I won his heart." + + * * * * * + +It was Verona's last evening at Manora. The Chandos bungalow was now +untenanted, and she was staying with Mrs. Lepell. The two ladies and +Salwey, who had come to say good-bye to his aunt, were strolling about +the garden after dinner. To fitly describe Mrs. Lepell's garden would +fill a small volume, for it was not alone her mere garden; it was her +pride, her employment and her glory! In twenty years she had changed a +bare straggling compound into a little Eastern paradise. The lawn was +its chief feature; a large expanse of velvet turf, watered and clipped, +and lined with borders of the choicest rose-trees--in some of which the +bul-buls built their nests--it gave the impression of being full of +sweet flowers, of shady nooks, of blossoming shrubs and graceful trees, +and was the resort of many gay bold birds and brilliant butterflies. + +The lawn lay immediately behind the house; beyond it were cool green +pergolas shaded with ferns, and great patches of sweet pea; then came +the maze of mango trees, thickets of lemons, and beds of tomatoes, +gourds and lettuce. It was one of Mr. Lepell's jokes that his wife +could not endure to see people promenading on her precious English +turf! but to-night, she and two companions paced it slowly from end to +end--and once and again from end to end. They spoke but little. At last +Mrs. Lepell said: + +"And so you are not coming home, Brian? Well, I think you are very +foolish. You have had three hot weathers straight off." + +"I don't think it can be done this year, Aunt Liz." + +"It ought to be done, when your Aunt Liz is in England. Don't you +require some new clothes? Oh, there is old Mordoo beckoning; I suppose +he wants to speak to me about the doves. Don't go in, Verona, I will be +back in two seconds." + +"Your last evening here," said Salwey, breaking a somewhat constrained +silence. "How glad you must be to leave the land of regrets--when you +can regret nothing." + +"You forget," she answered, in a low voice. "Two graves." + +"Yes, and I promise you that they will be well cared for--since Mrs. +Chandos is leaving the station." + +"And is all her business arranged and wound up?" + +"Yes, it is now in the hands of a trustworthy man--her books have been +destroyed. She has, however, an ample income." + +"So Saloo is no more, thanks to you. And your wish is accomplished." + +How bold she was! + +Her companion made no reply, as he paced the grass with his eyes on the +ground, and his arms locked behind him. + +"And you are not coming to England?" she pursued recklessly. + +"No; you see my work is out here." + +"Ah, yes, of course--and your heart is in your work!" + +Oh, what an abominably forward girl she was! If Mrs. Lepell did not +quickly return, she would find herself proposing to the man beside her. +She felt desperate; cool and self-possessed as she outwardly appeared. +Must she go home--and never see him again? Would he not speak even one +word? Her heart thumped so violently, she was half afraid that he might +hear it! + +"You have had some interesting experiences," he remarked. (She was on +the verge of the most extraordinary experience of all--did he but guess +the truth.) + +"But I am sure you will be thankful to get out of this country," he +resumed, "and, needless to say--you will never return." + +"I--I would return," she stammered--he suddenly stood still, raised his +head and looked her intently in the eyes--"I would return," she went +on, now with her gaze fixed on the ground--"if I was asked." + +"Asked!" he repeated. "What do you mean--asked, by whom?" + +"By the right person." Her voice had sunk to a whisper--her cheeks were +two flames. + +It was enough--further humiliation was spared her. Brian Salwey was +not so simple as he had declared. With a sudden brusque movement he +laid his hand on her shoulder; his face was white with the pallor of +intense emotion, as he looked straight into her eyes and said: + +"Am I the right person, Verona?" + +Verona's reply was inarticulate but sufficient. + +"It seems incredible!" he exclaimed, after a moment's stupefied silence. + +The blue campanulas rang their bells, the bamboos whispered, the +roses nodded to one another, and the great silver moon slowly slid +up from behind the clump of mango trees, raised her broad face over +the branches, and stared complacently on this couple in the garden. +Here was Mrs. Lepell hurrying back, and as she approached, Verona, +whose courage had entirely ebbed, ran into the verandah, and left her +companion to break as best he could the news to his aunt. + +"So!" exclaimed Mrs. Lepell, "I am absent for three minutes, and you +seize the opportunity to ask Verona to return to India to marry you! +Well, Brian, you _have_ a good conceit of yourself!" This was not, +as we are aware, an accurate statement of the case, but Salwey was +eminently chivalrous. + +"What is this I hear?" demanded her hostess, as she pursued Verona into +her room. "Niece to be--or not to be! I do not think I can accord my +consent!" and she surveyed her with a smile of good-humoured perplexity. + +"Has it been asked, Aunt Liz?" she murmured slyly. + +"Verona, you are a most exasperating creature! Do please think of what +will be said of _me_ at home--of the match-making woman, who took +time by the forelock, and arranged it all with her own nephew--such a +wretched _parti_! Think of what your grandfather will say!" + +"No, indeed, I've already had two sets of grandfathers, and I don't +care what anyone says--I shall marry to please myself." + +"Like mother, like daughter! Oh, dear child, do forgive me! I don't +mean to be horrid!" + +"I intend to marry Brian," continued Verona, in a firm voice, "who, +when I was a nobody, treated me like a Princess--and loved me for +myself." + +"And you will come out here once more, to be the wife of a police +wallah?" + +"Yes." + +"And since he really is not raving mad, I suppose he is to travel to +Bombay--and see us off?" + +"Yes, Aunt Liz, I suppose so." + +Mrs. Lepell put her arm round the girl's neck and kissed her +affectionately. "Of course, dear--speaking unofficially--I am +delighted, and though I say it, who am his own aunt, few girls are in +my opinion good enough for Brian. _You_ are; and I should be entirely +happy, only for thinking of your relations. Your grandfather so anxious +to claim you--your aunt; if I only----" + +"If you only say another word, Aunt Liz," interrupted Verona, "I +declare I shall take a three months' return ticket to Bombay." + + + + + CHAPTER XLIV + + +It was five o'clock on a June evening; a day of tropical heat had +almost prostrated London, and many people were in the Park, strolling +slowly to and fro, or sitting on penny chairs, watching the crowds near +the Achilles statue. Among these lookers-on were Sir Horace Haig and +his nephew, recently returned from India on sick leave. Sir Horace's +little blue eyes peered forth from beneath their shaggy brows, with +an even fiercer intentness than of old, as he leant on his cane, +and delivered criticisms on those unfortunates who passed along the +surrounding brown grass. + +"I say, see these smart women!" he growled, "Mrs. Blynne and her +daughter--flaunting in French frocks. I'll swear they live in two +rooms, and have not a stiver over three hundred a year. How the dickens +do they do it?" + +"Credit," muttered his companion. + +"Bah! widows with small incomes don't get _that_. It's my belief she is +going to induce that old fool, Montlevi, to marry her." + +"I am sure I haven't the smallest objection," drawled Captain Haig. + +"And here comes Lady Tracy-Fleet, with her two little girls on show, +quite the pattern matron! and I happen to know that she lost eight +hundred pounds one night last week at bridge. There is Leoni and his +daughter; she will have a great fortune. Eh, Malcolm? rather dark, but +you can't have everything!" But Malcolm made no reply; he was gravely +considering his boots. + +"Hallo!" exclaimed his uncle after a pause; "I say, do you remember +that girl at Homburg--Miss Chandos, the heiress? Why, of course you +do--you were rather gone in that quarter, eh?--old woman left her +nothing, and she went to India and got mixed up with a lot of shady +people." + +"Yes; what about her?" + +"Why, she is over there! and coming this way, with Lord Sombourne and +Lady Ida Eustace." + +Malcolm ceased to lounge and contemplate his favourite pair of boots, +and instantly sat up erect and alert. + +Yes; walking with measured ease between a tall, aristocratic old man +and a tall, aristocratic woman, he beheld Verona. She wore a long, +flowing white gown, a black hat, and carried in her hand a dainty pink +parasol. She looked lovely! + +"So it turned out that she was Sombourne's grand-daughter," resumed Sir +Horace, "daughter of that Lady Vera, who made a bolt of it instead of +marrying Sir Job Gilderman. Lord, what a hub-bub! I remember it like +yesterday. The girl has not lost her looks, and, by all accounts, she +will have a good fortune. I say, what do you think?" + +"Oh, I think I'm going to speak to her," replied his nephew, who had +risen to his feet, yielding to an impulse he only half understood. + +"All right; don't mind me." + +Captain Haig walked a few paces across the turf and confronted Verona, +and swept off his hat. + +"Oh, Captain Haig, how do you do?" she exclaimed. "I did not know you +were at home." + +"I arrived a month ago--sick certificate." + +"Let me introduce you to my aunt, Lady Ida Eustace--my grandfather, +Lord Sombourne." + +What a different class to the former family to which she had made him +known! + +"I believe we met in India," said Lady Ida, offering her five and +three-quarter hand. "Positively this has been a real Indian day; we +came out for a breath of air and are just going home to tea, close by. +Will you join us?" + +Captain Haig accepted the invitation with flattering alacrity, and +presently fell behind with the young lady. As they passed close to Sir +Horace that gentleman made a quick little sign to his nephew, as much +as to say: + +"Bless you, my children!" + +Lord Sombourne's town house was spacious, imposing, and at the present +moment delightfully cool and dim. Tea was served in a lofty drawing +room, lined with priceless old tapestry, and opening out of which was a +conservatory full of palms and tropical plants, cooled by a splashing +fountain. Here indeed was a home in every way worthy of Miss Verona; +and as Captain Haig furtively surveyed the powdered servants, the Queen +Anne silver, the rare old Sèvres service, all his former admiration +for his Princess suddenly flamed into life! He felt convinced that she +was the one woman in the world for him. There had been a temporary +interregnum, but no one had been exalted to the throne! Yes, he assured +himself--he had always been true to her. Could he persuade _her_ to +believe this? + +After tea Lady Ida, having excused herself to write a note, departed +into the front drawing room, and the pair were alone. + +"It is hot enough, as Lady Ida says, to recall India!" exclaimed +Captain Haig as he passed a delicate silk handkerchief over his +forehead. "I don't suppose you care to be reminded of anything out +there! It must be all like a bad dream." + +"Oh, I don't know," she responded; "there were some good days, and I +made some good friends." + +"The Lepells, for instance." + +"Yes; I came home with Mrs. Lepell." + +"And so you were not a Chandos after all!" + +"No; I have had a most varied circle of connections, and now I belong +at last to my real relations." + +"I cannot somehow call you Miss Hargreaves." + +"To tell the truth I have hardly got accustomed to it myself!" and she +laughed. + +"I was always so puzzled--I may say dumbfounded. You were so utterly +different to Pussy and Dominga. Dom appalled me." + +"Did she?--and now," looking at him with a mischievous smile, she +added, "_you_ are connected with her--and I am not!" + +"Yes; and do you know, she is quite a success!--has swept the old +Lord straight off his legs, and my uncle, Sir Horace, is actually +enslaved! I say," he added, leaning towards her, and lowering his voice +mysteriously--"_they don't know_." + +"No? I used to be dreadfully prejudiced; now I am not. I agree with Mr. +Salwey that a slight mixture of Eastern blood is not a disadvantage." + +"Salwey! By the way, that reminds me, I saw the death of his father in +this evening's paper." + +"Really!" she exclaimed, and her colour deepened. After a pause she +added, "It must have been rather sudden." + +"I cannot say--I am sure," he rejoined indifferently. "I believe it is +a fine property, and I am glad poor old Salwey will get his innings at +last. It will make a great difference to him. What do you think?" + +"Yes," drawing a long breath, "and it will make a great difference to +me!" + +"Why," he asked, "should it affect you?" + +"Because I need not now return to India." + +"Then--then," he stammered, "I gather that you and Salwey are engaged." + +"It is true," she answered softly, "though not yet announced in the +_Morning Post_, and I tell you as an old friend. He is on his way home." + +"Oh, Miss Hargreaves! I--of course--wish you every happiness, but this +is very terrible news to me." + +"To you? I don't quite understand," she said sedately. + +"You know very well how long I have been attached to you, don't you? +And now I'm too late. Do you realise what brought me to England?" + +"Sick leave, I think you said." + +"Home-sick leave. I wanted to see _you_." + +"Now, Captain Haig, please don't be so tragic!" she exclaimed with a +touch of impatience, "you know very well that in your heart of hearts +you did not care so very much for me. You will soon forget all about +Homburg, and I will forget all about India, and so we will be quits, +and, I trust, good friends." + +"I am sure you two must have had quite a nice Indian gossip!" said Lady +Ida, sweeping into the room, note in hand; "I suppose you have been +going over all your mutual experiences out there?" + +"I--I--suppose we have," assented the visitor mechanically. + +"I daresay you know Mr. Salwey?" + +"Yes; we were at Harrow together. I was his fag, and he used to lick me +for not cleaning his boots! I also knew him in India." + +"He is on his way home now." + +"So I hear," rising as he spoke. "Well, I am afraid I ought to be on my +way home too. I am staying down the river." + +"I hope you will come and look us up again, and meet your old +school-fellow," said Lady Ida. "You will generally find us here at +tea-time. We are always glad to see Verona's friends." + +"Oh, thank you very much." Then he suddenly shook hands, gave the young +lady one glance, and without another word took his departure. Presently +the door below was heard to slam. + +Verona went to the balcony, and gazed after the retreating figure. He +walked rapidly for an invalid--his quick footfall had an impatient +ring--and as he passed out of sight she heaved a little sigh. + +"My dear child! what is the meaning of this?" enquired her aunt, +placing two hands heavily on her shoulders, "gazing after a young man, +and sighing like--I don't know what!" + +"I am only looking after him--to see the last of an old love affair." + +"What a funny girl you are!" + +"That was what Mrs. Chandos used to say." + +"Pray, don't mention that odious woman. And Brian--what would he say?" + +"I adore Brian; I would not marry anyone else for the whole world, but +really you must allow me to be a little sorry for the--other young man!" + +"Because you will not be his wife!" exclaimed Lady Ida, with dancing +eyes. "What a pretty, conceited niece!" and she kissed her with +effusion. + + * * * * * + +Dominga and Pussy are married; so also, to the surprise of her friends, +is Lizzie Trotter, and there are some changes at Manora. For instance, +Mr. Lepell is at home, and Mr. Watkin officiates as a somewhat pompous +regent, with Mrs. Watkin as his insufferable consort. The Chandos +bungalow still stands empty, and the squirrels share the verandah with +the sparrows and the crows. Unmindful of the drowsy Chokedar, they race +along the flags or execute gymnastic feats in the lattice work with +many a "Chir--ip--pip--pip--pip." Pretty little creatures, with sleek +bodies and bushy barred tails. + +One of the squirrels has a bit of faded ribbon round his neck--he is +very tame. No, Johnny has not forgotten! at a sudden footfall, he will +start and listen. When the house is open, he scours through all the +rooms; in a certain window he is often to be seen for hours watching +and waiting. + +Alas, faithful little heart! your hopes are never to be realised. Other +steps and other voices may come and go within the Chandos bungalow--but +Verona will never return. + + + THE END. + + * * * * * + + _Printed at The Chapel River Press, Kingston, Surrey._ + + [Transcriber's Note: Inconsistent hyphenation left as printed.] + + * * * * * + + UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME + + + Madame Albanesi + + Drusilla's Point of View + Marian Sax + A Question of Quality + The Strongest of all Things + A Young Man from the Country + + + Alice and Claude Askew + + Destiny + + + M. E. Braddon + + The White House + During Her Majesty's Pleasure + + + Mrs. B. M. Croker + + Her Own People + The Youngest Miss Mowbray + The Company's Servant + + + Jessie Fothergill + + A March in the Ranks + + + Cosmo Hamilton + + The Infinite Capacity + + + E. W. Hornung + + Peccavi + + + Justin Huntly McCarthy + + The God of Love + The Illustrious O'Hagan + Needles and Pins + + + Mary E. Mann + + Moonlight + + + Charles Marriott + + The Intruding Angel + + + Mrs. Oliphant + + The Cuckoo in the Nest + It was a Lover and His Lass + Janet + Agnes + + + William Le Queux + + The Man from Downing Street + + + Mrs. Baillie Reynolds + + The Ides of March + + + "Rita" + + The Seventh Dream + + + Adeline Sergeant + + Kitty Holden + A Soul Apart + Jacobi's Wife + + + Beatrice Whitby + + Bequeathed + + + Percy White + + Colonel Daveron + The House of Intrigue + + + Mrs. C. N. Williamson + + The Turnstile of Night + The Silent Battle + + + HURST AND BLACKETT'S + 7d. COPYRIGHT NOVELS. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75402 *** diff --git a/75402-h/75402-h.htm b/75402-h/75402-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b47cac2 --- /dev/null +++ b/75402-h/75402-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13053 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Her Own People | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } +hr.full {width: 95%; margin-left: 2.5%; margin-right: 2.5%;} +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +x-ebookmaker-drop {display: none;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap { font-variant:small-caps; } + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +.caption p +{ + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; + margin: 0.25em 0; + font-weight: bold; +} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +/* Poetry indents */ +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } +table.autotable td, +table.autotable th { padding: 4px; } + +.tdl {text-align: left;} + +div.titlepage { + text-align: center; + page-break-before: always; + page-break-after: always; +} + +div.titlepage p { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + font-weight: bold; + line-height: 1.5; + margin-top: 3em; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} +.poetry .indent4 {text-indent: -1em;} + +.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } +.ph1 { font-size: x-large; margin: .83em auto; } + +.ph2 { text-align: right; text-indent: 0em; } +.ph2 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } + +.ph3 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } +.ph3 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75402 ***</div> + +<div class="titlepage"> + +<h1>HER OWN PEOPLE</h1> + +<p class="ph1">By Mrs. B. M. CROKER</p> + +<p>Author of<br> +"Diana Barrington," "Beyond the Pale,"<br> +"Peggy of the Bartons," "Terence,"<br> +"The Catspaw," etc.</p> + +<p>London:<br> +Hurst and Blackett, Limited<br> +Paternoster House, E.C.</p> + +<hr class="chap"> + +<p>DEDICATION. +TO<br> +EDITH M. VINCENT,<br> +WITH THE AUTHOR'S LOVE</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="chap"> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""> + <div class="caption"> + <p>"God pardon me and give me rest."</p> + </div> +</div> + +<hr class="chap"> + +<table> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">CHAPTER XLIV</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="chap"> + + +<h2>HER OWN PEOPLE</h2> + + + +<hr class="chap"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</h2> +</div> + + +<p>"Oh yes! I know what it is to be hard up myself! I'm hard up now!—but +I'll help you in another way. You must marry, Malcolm, my boy! Leave it +to me, and I'll find you a rich wife!"</p> + +<p>In making the foregoing boastful promise, Sir Horace Haig raised a +naturally harsh voice, and all but shouted his officious announcement. +The empty air seemed to echo the words, "rich wife"—"rich wife," their +regular measured tread to repeat, "rich wife"—"rich wife," as the two +men, uncle and nephew, hurried down a by-street in Homburg.</p> + +<p>There was good reason for haste, a neighbouring clock was chiming +the hour, and already they were unfashionably late for the morning +ceremonies at the Elisabeth Brunnen.</p> + +<p>"But——" began the prospective Benedict, in a doubtful tone.</p> + +<p>"My grandfather used to say," interrupted his uncle, in a loud +authoritative key, "that a man should marry young, and marry often. He +had four wives!"</p> + +<p>"And you, sir, have not had one!" rejoined his companion, with +unexpected audacity.</p> + +<p>"Oh—ah—well, yes—that is true—but the fact is, I had an unhappy +love affair—(a fiction invented on the spot)—a—a—blighted life—a +blighted life!!—it is a—a painful subject."</p> + +<p>Here Sir Horace suddenly turned into a narrow footpath, where, as it +was necessary to walk in single file, awkward questions were evaded, or +postponed.</p> + +<p>The subject of "a blighted life" was a spruce, straight-backed +gentleman of sixty, with a large hooked nose, and two keen little blue +eyes, sheltered by a pair of beetling brows; he dressed in a careful +middle-aged style, and wore his clothes, and his years, with ease.</p> + +<p>Sir Horace was the seventh Baronet—a resolute old bachelor, who +enjoyed a comfortable income, and was on the committee of the Bellona +Club. He claimed an immense acquaintance, and was fairly popular, being +recognised as a fine judge of a vintage, or a cook, and one of the best +bridge players in London. It is painful to add that he was incredibly +selfish, and never expended a shilling on any more deserving object +than Horace Haig, Baronet, and yet, in a hearty jovial fashion, he +contrived to extract an astonishing amount of hospitality and favours, +from other people!</p> + +<p>Such an individual was naturally the last man in the world to trouble +himself respecting his relations—and above all, his poor relations. +Nevertheless, on the present occasion he was accompanied by his nephew +and heir. Indeed it was in answer to his uncle's warm invitation (but +not at his expense) that Captain Haig was visiting Homburg before +rejoining his regiment in India.</p> + +<p>Malcolm Haig was a well-set-up young officer, with a pair of merry blue +eyes, and a touch of sunshine in his closely cropped locks. Sir Horace +introduced, with an air of bland complacency, a kinsman who did him +credit, made no demands on his patience, nor yet upon his pocket. All +the same, he had excellent reason to know that Malcolm was "hard up." +His private means were nominal, and he was about to conclude a year's +leave in England—a year's leave is often an expensive luxury. Under +such circumstances his banker's account would be uncomfortably low—in +fact, Malcolm had said as much. Sir Horace was disposed to exert his +social influence, and endeavour to do the poor young fellow a good +turn. He was handsome and well born; if his purse was lean, he had an +adventurous spirit and a susceptible heart.</p> + +<p>As uncle and nephew followed the winding path which led to the +far-famed Elisabeth Well, the latter was struck by the exceptional +beauty of their surroundings, the admirably-kept greensward, the shady +trees and flowering shrubs, on which the early dew was still glistening.</p> + +<p>There was a delicious perfume of roses in the air, and the inspiriting +sound of a string band in the near distance.</p> + +<p>"I say," began the young man, now walking beside his companion, "I had +no idea that Homburg was like this—half park, half garden, and so +pretty."</p> + +<p>"Hadn't you!" rejoined his uncle gruffly; "well, I suppose it is! This +is my twenty-seventh season—I've got over my first raptures by this +time."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe I could ever come back to the same place twenty-seven +times."</p> + +<p>"Think it argues a lack of originality? It would depend on its +attractions. You don't want to go back to Perapore twenty-seven times, +eh?"</p> + +<p>"By Jove, no—nor twice!" he answered, with emphasis.</p> + +<p>"But here it is different, my boy. It is good for one's liver, it is +gay, and, as you remark, pretty. There is any amount of entertaining; +dinners and luncheons; there is golf and tennis. I meet the people +I know—or want to know. In short, Homburg has become an agreeable +habit, which there is no occasion to relinquish. And here we are!" he +announced, as they emerged from a shady walk into a wide and crowded +promenade.</p> + +<p>At one end of this promenade was the celebrated well, at present +closely invested by a number of votaries, who were sipping their first +glass, or waiting to be served by the active, blue-gowned maidens.</p> + +<p>Here were young and old, society folk and nobodies, a Russian Grand +Duke stood elbow to elbow with a Scotch grocer, and the Countess of +Marmalade was patiently waiting till Cora Sans Souci was served.</p> + +<p>As soon as Sir Horace had swallowed his glass (he took it warm), and +having vainly urged his nephew to pledge him in another, he carried him +off to stroll up and down, between the bandstand and the jewellers' +shops. As they sauntered along he saluted almost every second person, +and indicated the chief notabilities to his relation.</p> + +<p>"Here comes the Duke of Luxembourg," and he swept off his hat, "getting +very shaky on his pins, poor old boy. This man passing now with the +lady in the Ascot frock is De Jeers, the great Jew financier. She +is Lady Merrythought, and getting all she can out of him, I'll lay +long odds. The pale girl in the white linen gown is the notorious +'Sauta'—the Spanish dancer. She stabbed a man with a hat pin the other +day. This couple comparing prescriptions are the Bishop of Timbucktoo +and Dooley, the steeplechase jock. The lady with the herd of Borzois +is the Duchess of Valetta, and the little woman with the brown poodle +is Madame Cuzco; that poodle is a European celebrity, and has his own +manservant and barber. Now let us go and sit on one of the seats and +watch the madding crowd."</p> + +<p>"All right," assented his nephew, "they certainly are a +wonderfully-mixed lot! Look at these two swarthy giantesses—regular +six-footers—a most formidable couple!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, the Misses Rookes—twins. They go by the name of the 'Powerful' +and the 'Terrible'!"</p> + +<p>Captain Haig laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>"Yes," resumed his mentor, "and this little dressy woman, with +tremendous knee action, who prances alongside of the rosy-cheeked +youth, is Mrs. Waller, with her third husband. They are known as 'the +Skipper and the Boy'!"</p> + +<p>"Splendid!" ejaculated the other.</p> + +<p>"And that red-faced man yonder is Turnbull, the great traveller. He is +called 'the Crimson Rambler!' Rather good, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Rather—but who are these coming now?—this girl and the squat old +woman—walking in a sort of crowd, with a dog?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is Madame de Godez—Madame de Gaudy they call her—a +fabulously wealthy widow. She always reminds me of a toad, with her +dark, mottled face, bright black eyes, and huge chinless mouth. Madame +is a personage here, as you may see. Gives wonderful dinners and +picnics, subscribes to everything, and is quite in the smart set!"</p> + +<p>"Great Scotland!" ejaculated his listener, "why, she looks for all the +world like an old Portuguese half-caste!"</p> + +<p>"She is Portuguese, I believe; of blue, not black, blood."</p> + +<p>"And the girl?—she is a jewel, if the other is a toad. The princess +and the witch. What do they call her here?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Chandos. She is Madame's adopted daughter, and lives with old de +Godez—goes everywhere, and has a good time."</p> + +<p>"What do you call a good time?" questioned Captain Haig as his eyes +followed the de Godez group.</p> + +<p>"She has everything money can purchase, each wish forestalled, +boundless admiration, forty-guinea frocks, and as many proposals of +marriage as there are days in the week."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, come!" expostulated his nephew.</p> + +<p>"Well, I know for a fact that she refused Dormer Lisle and Tubby +Coote, and, they say, Lord Caraway. Observe that young officer in the +Frankfort Dragoons rushing on his fate, and the dark, foreign-looking +chap leading the dog is Prince Tossati, an Italian prince, long +pedigree, lean purse!"</p> + +<p>Captain Haig stared intently at the group, which had halted to greet +some friends within a few yards of his seat—at the stout old woman, +who had no chin or neck to speak of, but a shrewd, piercing eye—a +bargaining eye—and a far-reaching, authoritative voice. She was +dressed with great magnificence, in a crimson and black foulard, and +in her ears blazed two large diamonds. There was something tragic in +the intensity of the effort and the insufficiency of the result; for +all her pains Madame de Godez was merely an ugly old woman who waddled +like a duck. During her progress she talked incessantly in a high +falsetto—chiefly to a man who strolled beside her—listening with an +air of reverent attention, his head bent, his hands loosely clasped +behind his back. It would be difficult to imagine a more complete +contrast than that presented by Madame de Godez and her niece. Miss +Chandos was a tall and graceful demoiselle, who moved with deliberate, +indolent gait; her flowing white gown was studiously plain; she wore +no ornaments, and few would have cast a second glance at her large +black hat. It was a certain air of personal distinction which arrested +attention, for if her toilet was simple, her carriage was regal. Her +head was firmly set upon a long white throat, and the face beneath the +shady hat was unquestionably beautiful. The girl's complexion indicated +the morn and dew of youth; her features were cut with the precision of +a cameo; her eyes and hair were dark, and both were glorious.</p> + +<p>The young lady's manner was considerably more animated than her +movements. She talked and laughed gaily and uninterruptedly, with a +slim, sallow cavalier (obviously her bondslave) who conducted Madame's +morose-looking pet by a long leather strap.</p> + +<p>This animal was an elderly terrier, who did not appreciate these +early promenades where he was restrained from speaking to his own +species—and was secretly dosed with nasty waters. He loathed the +foreign food, foreign manners, foreign tongue—he never met an English +pal, or enjoyed a day's good English sport. Oh, where were the rabbits, +the cats, the friends and the enemies of his youth? He was an ill-used, +expatriated animal, as surly and injured as any other old gentleman +compelled to reside on the Continent against his inclination. Madame +de Godez invariably addressed the poor creature as "Dog Darling," for +she was passionately attached to him, despite his churlish humours; but +he remained his own dog, and nobody's darling, as he was half-dragged, +half-led, in the train of a triumphal progress.</p> + +<p>Captain Haig's eyes dwelt long on this particular group, and his +uncle, noting the fact, made a sudden and startling remark.</p> + +<p>"Malcolm, my boy, that girl would be the very wife for you!" and when +he had enunciated this opinion, he coughed, and gave his neat washing +tie an emphatic twitch.</p> + +<p>"Wife for me, sir?" repeated his relative, "but I'm not looking for +one!"</p> + +<p>"No! well it is never too late to mend—and fully time you were making +a search. Handsome heiresses won't fall into your mouth, and nothing +but an heiress will suit. I may live till I'm ninety, you know—and, +anyway, I'm a poor man. Don't wait till you are a stiff, stocky old +fellow, for, if you do, you <i>may</i> wait. But now, when you are a +smart-looking chap, and I can give you a shove, is your time. There is +a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to +<i>a</i> fortune."</p> + +<p>"I don't think a lady with a fortune would care to swelter in India," +remarked his companion, "and I could not bring myself to live at home +on my wife's money."</p> + +<p>"Hut-tut-tut!" exclaimed Sir Horace, and his eyebrows assumed an +expression which invariably struck terror to the hearts of club +waiters. "That sort of talk is bosh! It's of no consequence which has +the coin, so long as it's <i>there</i>—and I could show you a dozen men who +live quite happily with wealthy wives—and haven't a rap of their own!"</p> + +<p>There was a silence for two or three moments, broken only by the buzz +of voices and the strains of the "Valse Bleu." At last the younger man +spoke.</p> + +<p>"What sort of a girl is this Miss Chandos?"</p> + +<p>"The sort of girl you see. A beautiful creature who carries herself +superbly, knows how to talk, and to walk, and to put on her clothes. As +far as I'm aware, she neither gambles, swears, smokes nor drinks!"</p> + +<p>"Good Lord, I should hope not!" ejaculated his nephew.</p> + +<p>"But, mind you" (here Sir Horace's tone changed into a graver +key), "she is perfectly sensible of her own value—though affable +and gracious to all. Perhaps a little supercilious to her foreign +slaves—especially the Italian—she has a horror of dusky complexions +and black blood which amounts to a craze."</p> + +<p>"Then what about the aunt?" inquired Captain Haig, with rather +malicious significance.</p> + +<p>"My dear boy, I've already assured you that Madame is of <i>sang +azur</i>—an old Alcantara family. She married a Scotchman who made +a fortune in indigo. The girl has been brought up in England, and +polished abroad. I believe she is twenty-two years of age. From +personal experience I am in a position to inform you that she can keep +her temper, hold her tongue, write a fine hand, and add up a bridge +account."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, that is something."</p> + +<p>"The old woman has given her a superior education, and lavished money +on her, and now takes her everywhere, for the pure pleasure of the +reflected glory she enjoys as aunt of the celebrated Miss Chandos! The +girl is her hobby. Instead of cats, china, or old furniture, her craze +is Verona, and she carries her about, and exhibits her, like a prize +animal, enters her for all the big shows, such as this—and when her +property comes in an easy first, looks on with a grin extending from +ear to ear, and for all I know, meeting under her wig!"</p> + +<p>Here Sir Horace paused, and struck his cane forcibly on the gravel as +he added:</p> + +<p>"Miss Chandos is the beauty here this year; all the world is at her +feet."</p> + +<p>"And what does she say to all the world?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing particular. Takes it as a matter of course—though she is not +a bit conceited, to give her her due—smiles and laughs, as you see, +and turns to conquests new."</p> + +<p>"Such as the chap in the blue coat! Are the poor devils <i>never</i> out of +uniform?"</p> + +<p>"Never, except at tennis, and then they change before leaving the +pavilion. Miss Chandos would be a splendid match for some needy baron +or princelet. She will come in for fifteen thousand a year, and the +money is all there—I happen to know it for a fact."</p> + +<p>"Fifteen thousand a year—and beauty—will never stoop to a poor +captain in the line!"</p> + +<p>"Why not!" argued Sir Horace, "a good-looking chap, a future baronet, +with a pedigree that goes back to the Picts, is not to be despised!"</p> + +<p>"He will be despised, all the same," muttered his nephew, in a tone of +sombre conviction.</p> + +<p>"And I tell you, you can't do better, Malcolm. I'll present you; it's +an intimate sort of life—we all meet three or four times daily; golf +and picnics are easily arranged. Then there is the Casino Terrace of a +night, and romantic and sequestered walks hard by. In a week you should +be able to report progress. The game lies to your hand!"</p> + +<p>"I assure you, sir, I really could not face it; it's too cold-blooded! +too bare-faced—and there is something unnatural in sitting here, on a +bench before breakfast, coolly discussing a possible marriage with a +girl to whom I've never even spoken!"</p> + +<p>"A marriage discussed before breakfast is far more likely to be a +success than one arranged after dinner!" responded Sir Horace, with +knitted brows. "I'm afraid you are a fool! What have you against it?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. I admit that Miss Chandos is the prettiest girl I've seen +for ages. I admire her immensely. Now if she had but a few hundreds a +year——"</p> + +<p>"She would not do at all," interrupted his uncle impatiently. "Well! +the gods cannot help a man who refuses opportunity. Why should you not +try your luck?"</p> + +<p>"What's the good—it will only be adding to her scalps."</p> + +<p>"Nothing venture, nothing have," declared Sir Horace, rising as he +spoke. "Come, we must be moving—it is long past the time for my second +glass."</p> + +<p>Captain Haig got upon his legs with some reluctance, gave himself a +little shake, stamped down his trousers, and in another moment was +walking away in the footsteps of his mentor.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Sir Horace, followed by his nephew, made his way briskly to the well, +and having cast one searching glance among the crowd, immediately +descended the steps, where in a few moments, he and Captain Haig found +themselves wedged in closest proximity to Madame de Godez. On nearer +inspection, she really proved to be one of the ugliest old women in +Homburg, in spite of her costly clothes, elaborate black wig, and +brilliant earrings: but it was a shrewd—nay, a clever face; and the +countenance expressed not only determination, but animation. Madame +instantly accosted her neighbour in a sort of bleating foreign key, +each syllable most distinctly articulated.</p> + +<p>"Oh ho, my friend! so here you are! Just get my glass filled, will you? +it is my own propertee," and as she spoke Madame handed Sir Horace a +gorgeous red and gold tumbler. "This ees your nephew, ees it not?" and +she looked up at Malcolm, with an eager twinkling gaze, and nodded her +head with an air of affable encouragement.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" he said to himself, "why the old woman talks the purest +Chi-Chi!"</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the old woman was inspecting him with her quick black eyes, +and as he swept off his Homburg hat, and stood momentarily bare-headed, +she was aware of his shining locks, deep blue eyes and winning smile +(oh, the hypocrite!). Here was a young man, with the face of the hero +in a picture-book. Between two sips of water she remarked:</p> + +<p>"Your nephew is not one beet like you, Sir Horace. He is quite +nice-looking."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but, dear lady, you should have seen <i>me</i> at his age," protested +the Baronet, with a ludicrous effort to look languishing, but the +beetling brows frustrated the attempt.</p> + +<p>"Now do not pretend that you were handsome," she retorted, giving him a +playful poke, "for I will nott believe eet."</p> + +<p>"How cruel of you, madame," he rejoined, as he took her tumbler and +held it, whilst he gazed down into her swarthy, wrinkled face with an +air of melancholy reproach, "when I am prepared to believe anything you +tell me, and to swear that you were the belle of—was it Lisbon?"</p> + +<p>"Verona," screeched the quondam beauty, ignoring Sir Horace and his +tender question—"where is Dog Darling? Do take care that he is not +trampled on."</p> + +<p>"He is all right, auntie," replied her niece, "I left him with the +Prince."</p> + +<p>"Ah," with a gasp of relief, "then thatt is arl-right. This is Sir +Horace's nephew, Verona—my niece, Miss Chandos."</p> + +<p>The young lady looked at Malcolm gravely, and inclined her head +an inch or two. Unlike her aunt, her appearance challenged the +most critical inspection, and bore, triumphantly, the ordeal of a +searching gaze. The shape of her face was perfect, her beautiful +dark eyes were merry and intelligent, but the short upper lip was +slightly—slightly—supercilious.</p> + +<p>"A frightful crowd, is it not?" she observed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and getting worse every moment," declared Sir Horace, taking the +remark entirely to himself; "allow me to pilot you out of it," and to +the amusement and admiration of his companion, he proceeded to manœuvre +madame and her niece far away from their own party. Giving the former +his arm up the steps, he said:</p> + +<p>"Malcolm, I will leave you to look after Miss Chandos."</p> + +<p>"Who is very well able to take care of herself, thank you," she +answered. Then, turning to Malcolm as they strolled along in the wake +of their elders, she continued:</p> + +<p>"Have you come to do the cure?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no, I'm merely an outsider—a spectator," he confessed, "but +I suppose I must drink something to give me the run of the place. +Something to talk about, and to establish a common interest with other +people."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then," she rejoined with equal gravity, "between seven and +eight o'clock, you take three glasses of the Elisabeth Brunnen—with a +promenade of fifteen minutes between each. This, with a salt bath at +eleven, and a couple of tumblers of the Staal Brunnen at three o'clock, +will instantly place you on a proper footing in society. Now"—and she +came to a standstill—"where <i>is</i> that dog?"</p> + +<p>"Are you his keeper?" he asked in a bantering tone.</p> + +<p>"Not exactly; I left him in charge of Prince Allessandro when we went +down to the well."</p> + +<p>"Proud animal!" ejaculated Captain Haig, "it is not every terrier who +has a Prince for dog boy!"</p> + +<p>"Dog <i>boy</i>," she echoed, "what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"It is an Indian term. All Europe dogs there keep their servant body to +look after them, and accompany them out walking."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see, and the Prince is doing dog boy for <i>me</i>. Well, he is quite +devoted to Dog Darling. You were going to say something?" and she +looked at her companion interrogatively.</p> + +<p>"I was," he admitted, with a laugh, "but second thoughts are best."</p> + +<p>"But I should like to hear your first thought. I insist on your telling +me; it is sure to be far more entertaining than its successor."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, I was merely going to quote an old saw!"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Love me, love my dog!"</p> + +<p>"A decrepit saying, and entirely out of fashion. Love me, and loathe +my dog, is far more up to date, especially since these lap dogs are +the rage. Then why not hate me, and love my dog! There are one or two +people—whose <i>dogs</i> I adore. Oh, dear me! just look at auntie! who +cannot be trusted out of my sight. She is eating peaches. That is Sir +Horace's doing! He has offered them to her, and she cannot resist, +although she is strictly forbidden to touch raw fruit!"</p> + +<p>"Would you imply that my respectable uncle is playing the part of the +serpent?"</p> + +<p>"No, but auntie is here for the cure, in order to get thin, and she +won't give herself a chance. She promises and vows all manner of things +to her doctor, and breaks her word as soon as she is out of his sight. +She sits up late, she eats creams and rich dishes, takes no exercise, +and is full of stern resolutions for to-morrow—it is always to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>"I gather that between your aunt and the dog your responsibilities are +serious."</p> + +<p>"Yes, very serious," she answered with a gay little nod.</p> + +<p>As they loitered along together, Captain Haig was sensible of the many +admiring eyes which were turned towards his companion, and of certain +envious scowls which fell to him. Half glances, whole stares, beaming +smiles, and impressive salutes attended the lady's progress. Yes, for +sheer, blazing, aggressive admiration Miss Chandos received the palm.</p> + +<p>After all, he asked himself, what was she to be thus acclaimed? A tall +girl, with a pair of wonderful dark eyes, a brilliant complexion, a +radiant smile!</p> + +<p>"I suppose you come abroad every year?" he questioned, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," she replied, "we live abroad. And you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but my abroad is Asia; yours, I conclude, is Europe. My abroad +spells duty, and yours pleasure."</p> + +<p>"Not altogether," rejoined Miss Chandos. "We live out of England as a +duty to an animal. We roam the continent because of the dog!"</p> + +<p>Captain Haig looked at her with a puzzled air, then gave a short +incredulous laugh.</p> + +<p>"But, I assure you that it is quite true," she continued, "Auntie is +devoted to Dog Darling, and owing to these dreadful new regulations +he would have to go into quarantine in England for six months; either +that, or be left at Calais. Such a separation would break his dear +heart—and be the death of auntie."</p> + +<p>"And so you remain an exile as long as he lives."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Is he old?"</p> + +<p>"About nine; but he comes of a long-lived family, and has a fine +constitution."</p> + +<p>"If I were you, I should administer some of the waters," suggested +Captain Haig.</p> + +<p>"If you mean with felonious intent, I repudiate your heartless advice. +I am sincerely attached to Toby."</p> + +<p>"But are you not also attached to home?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, we have no home. When we were in England we lived at +hotels—and I am thoroughly at home on the Continent."</p> + +<p>"And know it well?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, some places, such as Paris, the Riviera, and Aix. I've also been +to Rome and Venice. We always winter in the South."</p> + +<p>"Possibly on account of Toby," suggested the young man. "I absolutely +decline to call him Darling."</p> + +<p>"You have made a sort of half-guess," she answered with a smile. +"I will not conceal from you that a certain chemist at Nice is a +celebrated dog doctor, and once, when Darling had bronchitis, auntie +stayed on a month longer, on purpose to be near him, although we had +taken our rooms at Venice. Is this your first visit to Germany?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I only arrived yesterday. I had no idea Homburg was such a +charming place—partly garden, park and forest. My uncle never prepared +me."</p> + +<p>"I don't fancy the beauties of nature would appeal to Sir Horace."</p> + +<p>"No, he is a practical man. If he were shown the mountains of the moon +in a strong telescope, he would immediately wonder if there was grouse +on them!"</p> + +<p>"Then he and auntie would thoroughly agree. Are you remaining long?"</p> + +<p>"I'm on my way back to India, worse luck, and sail from Marseilles in +ten days."</p> + +<p>"Ah, so you don't like the East?"</p> + +<p>"No, I suppose because I'm nailed out there by duty. Just as you +are held fast by the dog. Of course, it's the best country for +soldiering—lots of room to manœuvre and turn round."</p> + +<p>"I've always cherished a wild wish to see India," she said. "Auntie +lived there for years, but she abhors it, and has not one single good +word for the country. Other people rave in its praise. What do you say, +Captain Haig—speaking unofficially?"</p> + +<p>"Well"—and he took a long breath—"I admit that, like the curate's +egg, parts of it are good. But where I am stationed it is all cotton +soil, sugar cane, and sun."</p> + +<p>"No antiquities?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing more venerable than the oldest resident! Of course, your aunt +was born out there?" he rashly ventured, then could have bitten his +tongue in two. He glanced at his companion, but she appeared to be +serenely unconscious of any <i>faux pas</i>, the exquisite pink in her fair +cheek had not deepened in shade, as she answered with an air of cool +reflection.</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure. I don't think so. But I know that she was married out +there!"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he ejaculated, "then, perhaps, that is why she dislikes the +country?"</p> + +<p>Miss Chandos gave him a quick look and made no reply. Captain Haig +again regretted having spoken unadvisedly, and on this occasion he felt +distinctly snubbed.</p> + +<p>"Do you play golf?" asked the lady abruptly.</p> + +<p>"No, I cannot say that I play," he stammered, "but my uncle does."</p> + +<p>"That sounds exactly like a sentence from Ollendorf. 'I do not ride on +horseback, but the sister of our neighbour does.' You really must take +to golf!"</p> + +<p>"Verona, child," screamed her aunt, "what are you loitering for? +Come along, this sun is too hot for Dog Darling. We must be going. +Captain Haig," turning to Malcolm, "your uncle has promised to +bring you to dine with me to-night, at Ritter's. I have engaged +a table—seven o'clock is the hour. So mind you are not late! +Good-bye—good-bye—good-bye!"</p> + +<p>As she made her adieux, madame—who was decidedly solid in figure—was +respectfully hoisted into a smart victoria. Verona took a place beside +her. Dog Darling nimbly accepted the front seat, and in another moment +a pair of smart bay steppers had borne the trio out of sight.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</h2> +</div> + + +<p>"I flatter myself I managed that rather neatly," remarked the Baronet, +as he surveyed his nephew with a complacent grin, "an introduction, a +<i>tête-à-têtes</i>, and an invitation, all within half-an-hour."</p> + +<p>"You could not have done more, sir, had you been a London chaperone of +twenty seasons. I assure you I am duly grateful."</p> + +<p>"And I tell you what, young man," resumed Sir Horace, now turning to +pace beside him, "whilst you were laying siege to the young lady's +heart, I was compelled to listen to a history of her aunt's liver +affection, and an alarming account of the condition of her internal +organs. Some old women have only three topics: disease, domestics, +and diet. Besides these, Madame de Godez has a famous appetite—for +compliments."</p> + +<p>"Which I presume you were good enough to feed."</p> + +<p>"Yes; in my experience, the uglier the old beldame, the more she craves +for admiration. I am deservedly well established in Madame's good +graces—in fact, in her present frame of mind, I believe she would +marry me to-morrow—if I asked her!"</p> + +<p>"She is enormously rich, and looks the soul of good nature," urged the +young man, and his tone implied encouragement.</p> + +<p>"Quite true; but I have lived very comfortably without a wife for +sixty-one years, and I'm not going to be such an old fool as to take +one now, even if she <i>is</i> worth her weight in gold. No, no, Malcolm, +my boy, joking apart, if the dowager favours you, and the young lady +accepts you, you can chuck the Service to-morrow, and forfeit your +return ticket, for your fortune is made!"</p> + +<p>"Don't you think you are going ahead too fast, sir? For all you and I +know, there may be twenty Richmonds in the field."</p> + +<p>"No," responded Sir Horace, with emphasis, "your only serious rival +is young Prince Tossati, the chap she left to mind the dog and carry +the parasol. He is one of the five sons of an impoverished Italian +duke, who has a palace full of priceless pictures and statuary, which +he may not sell—desperately as he is in need of ready money. His +pedigree goes back to the Cæsars, but unfortunately that is also +non-transferable. I don't believe the poor beggar can lay hands on +more than six hundred a year, and the sole chances for the sons—are +heiresses. One has married an American girl in Pork, and our friend +Allessandro has figuratively marked the fair Verona for his own."</p> + +<p>"He is an insignificant little chap! as dark as an Arab," sneered +Captain Haig.</p> + +<p>"Yes," assented his uncle, "I declare when I see him, I can't help +looking for the monkey and the organ! but he has a title—a real one, +mind you—and I believe Madame would give one of her eyes, or even go +without her dinner for a whole week, to be in a position to say, 'my +niece, the Princess!'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but she is not really her niece," objected Malcolm, with a +touch of impatience. "Why, Madame is exactly like an old Portuguese +half-caste, such as one sees on the West coast!"</p> + +<p>"I can only tell you, that the girl has lived with her for twenty +years," responded Sir Horace with solemn deliberation, "and no one has +ever heard of, or seen, any other relations."</p> + +<p>"And how did Madame de Godez get into Society?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly because she did not care a straw about it, for one thing; for +another, she makes no false pretences, is notoriously good-natured, and +enormously rich, and she has also a fair supply of homely honesty and a +brusque wit."</p> + +<p>"And where did her fortune come from?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! now you go beyond me!" said Sir Horace, "from piracy, for all I +know!" and he laughed. "Madame is rather like the stock character of a +pirate's wife. But one thing is certain, the money is all there. Madame +will give us a first-rate dinner to-night, so don't eat a heavy lunch. +It will be none of your Homburg affairs, no occasion to bring your +purse and ask for the bill at dessert!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's a good old local custom. Friends invite you to dine at +their hotel, and you go. They pay for the flowers, and perhaps the +coffee—everyone settles for themselves—and there you are!"</p> + +<p>"There I should not be," rejoined his nephew, with a laugh of contempt.</p> + +<p>"I grant that it is undoubtedly a moderate form of entertainment, but +you meet your acquaintance. Of course, there are other dinners, too, +the dear familiar kinds. See here—" suddenly coming to a halt in front +of a flower stall not far from Ritter's Hotel, and lifting as he spoke +a bunch of exquisite roses to his face—"I'll send this to the aunt; +the old lady likes little attentions. Do you buy one for the niece. We +can leave them with the hall porter as we pass."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I say," expostulated his companion, "I don't like to send a +bouquet to a girl I've only spoken to once; she would think it such +awful cheek."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," replied Sir Horace, "it is perfectly correct here. At +Homburg you do as Homburg does. I know my way about, my boy; pay up +and look pleasant; four marks, and—oh, you may as well pay for me too. +I've no change. I'll make it all right by-and-by."</p> + +<p>Captain Haig nodded, as he produced a small gold piece and handed it +across the stand, well aware that he was about to present not one, but +two bouquets.</p> + +<p>"You don't think she'd like a little dog as well?" suggested Sir Horace +facetiously, as he eyed some black Spitz puppies, which were being +hawked about hard by.</p> + +<p>"No, I fancy Miss Chandos finds one dog enough, to go on with."</p> + +<p>His uncle gave a loud harsh laugh as they moved away, each carrying a +superb bunch of La France roses.</p> + +<p>Madame de Godez and her niece were at <i>déjeûner</i> when the two bouquets +made their appearance. To be perfectly correct, Miss Chandos had +finished and was busy with a pencil and paper; but her aunt was still +actively engaged.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of Sir Horace's nephew, Verona?" she enquired, as +she turned over the flowers and sniffed at them.</p> + +<p>"Oh," looking up from her writing, "he is not bad."</p> + +<p>"Bad—not bad! whatt a girl to talk so! Why he is very good-looking."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose he is; and it is rather a relief to meet with a +stranger who has never been here before, and does not know anyone, or +even his way about. I declare his ignorance is quite refreshing!"</p> + +<p>"O—ah! he will not be long ignorant," replied Madame, squeezing up her +eyes, "his uncle is worldly wise. <i>He</i> will educate him!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, auntie, you know you promised Dr. Krauss you would not touch fruit +and cream, and you have had two helpings, besides macaroni and fish. +You really must not be so foolish."</p> + +<p>"Now, now, now, Verona," she protested peevishly, "do let me a-lone! +Why may I not eat my food? It is all I have to enjoy. You spoil my +appetite; you always worry so. Here, Dog Darling! come and taste this +lobstar cutlet—so good, dear! Why!" with a gasp of surprise, "he won't +touch it!"</p> + +<p>"Wise dog," said Verona, "he knows what agrees with him. I'm sure +animals are more sensible about their food than we are. I must write +out the cards for the dinner table now. We shall be thirty with these +two men."</p> + +<p>"Their flowers may as well be sent down for the table," suggested +Madame (who dearly loved similar small economies). "Let me see, dear, +the names," and she glanced over a half-sheet of paper. "Lord and Lady +Bosworth, Monsieur and Madame de la Vallance, General Huntly, Prince +Tossati—oh, by the way, my dear child, why were you so unkind to him +to-day, leaving the poor fellow to carry your things, and lead about +Dog Darling, whilst you walked off with a stranger? Better not do so +again. He was hurt, I could see, he looked quite white with emotion!"</p> + +<p>"Dearest auntie, he never could look white. His skin is the colour of +<i>café au lait</i> when he turns pale—he merely becomes sallow."</p> + +<p>"He is a handsome young fellow, with the blood of emperors in his +veins."</p> + +<p>"Maybe so, but he is as swarthy as a Moor. He might be Emperor of +Morocco. His hair is lank, his eyes are two ink pools. I am sure he is +a most estimable young man, who writes every day to his mother, but if +we get up tableaux, I solemnly warn you that I shall certainly invite +him to do Othello."</p> + +<p>"O—ah, Verona, for shame of you! You prefer the red-haired young +officer."</p> + +<p>"Red hair—oh, oh!" she laughed. "You know very well, auntie, that I +prefer no one."</p> + +<p>"Because you are so hard to please—so proud! Pray, what is the +difference between Tossati and Sir Horace's nephew?"</p> + +<p>"Well, if you ask me, I should say, that one was a black prince, and +the other a white man!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my! my! my! whatt things you do say! quite shocking—though you +are but joking; you are nevarre in earnest—nevarre!"</p> + +<p>"But occasionally I am," retorted the girl, suddenly rising. "For +instance, I am in earnest now, when I tell you that your mud bath will +be ready in a quarter of an hour." And as she spoke, she rang a loud +peal on the bell.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no!" wailed her companion, beating the air with two little +dumpy hands. "I will not to-day, I will—not. These early hours do kill +me. I am too fatigued. No, I will go and lie down for a while and be +fresh for this afternoon. I will not take the bath, I will not."</p> + +<p>"But really, auntie——"</p> + +<p>"Really, child, I promised the duchess to go to her bazaar. I know you +are going to play golf. No, I will not take this nasty mud bath—you +must not insist—you must <i>not</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I shall tell Dr. Krauss," said Verona, nodding her head, "you +know you are dreadfully afraid of him."</p> + +<p>"I will take it to-morrow—really and truly—oh, truly, I give you my +word! Look here, dearie, I cannot take Dog Darling to the bazaar. I +think you might allow him to go with you to the Golf. Do!"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, he fetches half the balls, then loses them, and disgraces +me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, then I must ask Minette to get a fly and take him for a nice +drive round Saarbruck. The air will do him good, poor darling!"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The dinner at Ritter's proved a brilliant affair, but Sir Horace +experienced an unexpected disappointment, when he discovered that +instead of being a guest at a pleasant little informal meal, he and his +nephew were two in a party of thirty. The menu was everything that +a Homburg menu could, and should, be; the company were <i>crême de la +crême</i>; but the crafty Baronet realised that this kind of entertainment +afforded no opportunities to advance his schemes. He and Malcolm might +as well have dined at their own hostelry—save that in that case, they +would have been obliged to pay for their food.</p> + +<p>A long table, carefully screened from public gaze, was decorated with +a profusion of roses and silver; the company were smart, and Madame +herself was magnificent in black and gold, with touches of crimson—her +natural taste was for the primary colours, and many jewels, but this +weakness was sternly repressed by a strong-willed French maid.</p> + +<p>The hostess was supported by a titled guest on either hand, ate +a hearty (and extremely unwholesome) meal, and enjoyed herself +prodigiously. Sir Horace sat beside a talkative, elderly dame, a +neighbour entirely after his own heart. They were in the same set, and +exchanged quotations from letters, highly spiced morsels of gossip, and +nodded and cackled, as they consumed various delicacies, and sipped dry +champagne.</p> + +<p>Malcolm Haig was by no means so fortunate, for he was placed between a +deaf man and a plain dowdy woman. Far, far away, on the opposite side +of the table, he espied Miss Chandos—and the Prince—the former was +more beautiful than ever without her hat; the wealth of her wonderful +hair, exposed in all its glory, made a fitting frame for her brilliant +face.</p> + +<p>She wore a gown of white lace, with long sleeves, a chain of splendid +pearls, and to his romantic imagination seemed the dazzling embodiment +of a princess in a fairy tale. The Prince, who was eating little, +talked to her incessantly, enforcing his conversation with flashing +eyes and quick, impassioned gestures.</p> + +<p>What was he saying? Malcolm watched and wondered; finally he arrived at +the conclusion that he was making love after the most approved Italian +mode, and became sensible of a flaming desire to go round and punch +his sleek head.</p> + +<p>Poor Allessandro! he really was devoted to the lovely English +Signorina. He could not sleep, he would not eat, he chiefly existed +on cigarettes and her society—and yet he was a little afraid of his +enchantress. She was so fascinating, yet elusive; always charming and +gracious, but when he became sentimental she laughed with heartless +indifference and brushed all his tender compliments aside. And then +she was so rich! Mother of Heaven, what a fortune! With this girl, +and her money, his existence would be heaven on earth. Good-bye for +ever to insolent creditors, to third-class tickets, shabby clothes and +undignified poverty.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Verona," he murmured, "you are called after one of our most +beautiful towns; you ought to belong to Italy."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?" she answered gaily; "then, in that case, you should +belong to Turkey!"</p> + +<p>"I would ever belong to where <i>you</i> were," he murmured tenderly.</p> + +<p>Miss Chandos merely helped herself to a salted almond. She had lovely +hands.</p> + +<p>"Why were you called Verona?" he pursued.</p> + +<p>"I have not the faintest idea. I suppose they thought it more uncommon +than Florence!"</p> + +<p>"Did you never ask them the reason?" he continued in his soft voice.</p> + +<p>"If by 'them' you allude to my father and mother, I am sorry to say I +have not even a dim recollection of either."</p> + +<p>"Ah! So you are an orphan?"</p> + +<p>She bowed her head.</p> + +<p>"How sad! How I pity you!" he ejaculated. "Now <i>I</i> have the good +fortune to have a charming father and mother—my mother is a beautiful +woman. How much I should like to make you known to her. I assure you +she would love you as a—daughter."</p> + +<p>"It is very kind of you to say so, Prince."</p> + +<p>"She lives in a noble old castle. It still retains many splendid +pictures and works of art. Perhaps you would visit her there one +day? It has such a wonderful view, being high on the top of a +mountain—almost in the clouds."</p> + +<p>"Almost a castle in the air?" suggested Verona.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, it is; and I, too, have my real castle in the air," he added +with tremulous significance. "Oh, such an adorable one." This speech +was accompanied by a long, intense look.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think these castles in the air cost a good deal to keep up?" +remarked Miss Chandos. "I cannot afford to build them myself." Then +she smiled her sweet smile, and turned away to address her left-hand +neighbour.</p> + +<p>All this time Malcolm was inwardly fuming, although he was eating his +dinner critically and carrying on a conversation with the lady beside +him, a lady who was blessed with a copious stock of words and laboured +under the delusion that she was a brilliant and dramatic talker. She +speedily discovered that her neighbour had been in India, and plied him +with opinions, suggestions and numerous questions with regard to native +life.</p> + +<p>At last, utterly wearied by this severe cross-examination, he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"I am truly sorry my information appears so meagre, but the truth is +that India—real India—is to the European a closed book!"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, surely not!" she protested warmly. "Only stupid, lazy people +say so!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I have been out in the East seven years, and I know precious +little of the natives, although I speak their language. I was born +there, too, and sent home as a kid. My father was a judge in the +Punjaub for thirty years. Shall I tell you what he said?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, pray do!"</p> + +<p>"That we Europeans are like drops of oil on a great ocean of water, and +will never penetrate or mix!"</p> + +<p>"Really! Well, I am afraid I do not share his opinion," declared the +listener with a shrug of her round shoulders.</p> + +<p>"You have been in the country, of course?"</p> + +<p>"No; but I have read about it, which amounts to almost the same thing. +Have you seen a book called 'Thrills from the Hills, or The Curse of +the Khitmagar'?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, as it happens, I have! A fellow on board ship had it, and I +looked into it."</p> + +<p>"Tell me, how did it strike you?" she demanded, and the lady's key was +pitched in the imperative mood.</p> + +<p>"As absolutely the greatest drivel and rot I ever read—and that is +saying a good deal! It is no more like India than it's like Homburg! +I should say that the author took her facts from fiction, her local +colour from Earl's Court, and her grammar from her cook!"</p> + +<p>There was an unusually spacious pause. Captain Haig glanced furtively +at his companion, and noticed that her face had become alarmingly red. +Presently she remarked in a repressed, but throaty voice:</p> + +<p>"It is a misfortune that the book fails to meet with your approval. As +it happens it was written by my sister," and she turned her head away +and gave him a view of nearly the whole of her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Well, what was said was said!" reflected her neighbour, apologies +were useless. He tossed off a glass of champagne and settled himself +to brazen out the situation until a welcome signal should give him his +release.</p> + +<p>For a considerable time the culprit was compelled to subsist on +disjointed scraps of the adjoining conversations. Among the crumbs he +gathered were these: "Fancy going 'no trumps' on such a hand! Wasn't it +sickening?"</p> + +<p>"Oh—I don't know! He had two aces. It was unlucky he was done in +spades."</p> + +<p>"A lovely piece of Persian lamb. Just enough for the collar."</p> + +<p>"No; a man with a beard never takes on the stage."</p> + +<p>"So they got the grand slam!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure the Staal Brunnen would suit you."</p> + +<p>"But she is <i>so dark</i>—her eyes and hair—you don't think——?" Voice +dropped, man's raised in reply, and in the key of D sharp.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens, no! What an awful suspicion! Not with that complexion."</p> + +<p>Pushing back of chairs, general rising, general exit.</p> + +<p>After coffee in the garden the party strolled over to the Casino in +order to see the grand fireworks. The grounds were illuminated, and +the crowd was immense. The entire scene was delightful, so gay, so +exhilarating and so foreign. People of many nations sat about, or +promenaded in groups, staring at the brilliant display, and listening +to the band.</p> + +<p>Some of the members of the late festivity assembled on the terrace, +where they paced to and fro, or stood to exclaim at some specially +marvellous effect. Miss Chandos was so closely invested by Uhlan +officers and other friends that Captain Haig had no opportunity of +exchanging a word with her. After several frustrated attempts he turned +aside, took a seat apart, and, we may as well admit it, sulked! He +watched with discontented eyes the gay throng of well-dressed people, +the glitter of diamonds, the bright stars overhead, the bright light +around. He saw Verona (as he mentally called her) now holding a little +court on the terrace, again strolling up and down with an Austrian +field-marshal or a Russian grand duke, and he realised how difficult +it would be for him to improve their acquaintance, and what a complete +outsider he was. There were too many notable worshippers, all competing +for a lady's society and favour, and he was but an impecunious officer +who must not venture to claim the privilege of sunning himself in the +beauty's smiles.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, Captain Haig had some brief visions of Miss Chandos; +for instance, at the Elisabeth Well of a morning, at the opera, or at +church, now and then they exchanged a few sentences.</p> + +<p>At the annual Battle of Flowers—which was attended by all Homburg +and Frankfort—the carriage of Madame de Godez was accorded a coveted +banner, and first prize. The landau was entirely covered with pink +roses, the very wheels had been transformed into colossal wreaths. +Four milk-white horses, caparisoned with roses and silver, were led +by grooms wearing pink and silver livery and white wigs. It was the +chariot of a Fairy Queen, and was received with shouts of admiration +and pelted with a hurricane of flowers.</p> + +<p>Enthroned in the vehicle reclined Madame de Godez, arrayed (despite her +maid) in a gorgeous pink and silver pelisse, with feathered headgear of +the most imposing assumption. ("The blot on the escutcheon," Sir Horace +dubbed the lady.) Beside her was seated the Princess, clad in white, +her hat crowned with roses; on the coach box was perched Dog Darling, +decorated en suite, with an enormous pink bow—glowering at all the +world and shivering with shame!</p> + +<p>The carriage was crammed with flowers of the most costly varieties, +which the two ladies tossed to the crowd with liberal hands.</p> + +<p>As the splendid equipage rolled majestically between dense masses of +admiring spectators it seemed to represent the triumphal car of Beauty +and Mammon.</p> + +<p>Captain Haig, posted in a coign of vantage, pelted the occupants with +the best of his assortment. He had no eyes, or flowers, for others, +not even for the cart laden with sheaves of corn and pretty girls and +drawn by oxen, nor for the gorgeous yellow coach, or yet the charming +Japanese; his flowers were only for Verona. Once he had the good +fortune to catch her eye, and as she passed she smiled and tossed him +a rose. This he kissed with fervour and stowed away as if it were some +holy relic, for Malcolm Haig was really in love. So much in love, that +he actually attended a charity bazaar in the extravagant and foolish +hope of finding <i>her</i> within; but unfortunately Miss Chandos was +elsewhere, playing golf, and his temerity cost him three sovereigns. +His leave was ebbing hourly—his luck was dead out. Sir Horace, too, +was selfishly absorbed in his own affairs and the progress of his cure, +and had never given his unhappy nephew a helping hand since that first +notable morning. At last Fortune smiled! Captain Haig was returning +from a sad and solitary ramble in the woods, when to his surprise, and, +needless to add, joy, he came upon Miss Chandos and Dog Darling. She +was seated on the trunk of a fallen tree with the enviable animal in +her lap.</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is fortunate!" she exclaimed, "I am in rather a quandary, +like the ferryman with the fox and goose and corn. Dog Darling has cut +his foot, and I don't know how I am to get him home. I dare not leave +him; he might stray, or be stolen, and, much as I love him—I cannot +carry him!"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," agreed the delighted lover. "Pray how do you happen to be +here all alone?"</p> + +<p>"I was driving with Auntie from Nauheim, I got out to walk back the +rest of the way, and give Dog Darling a run. He has cut his foot on a +broken bottle, poor dear; so wicked of people to leave their picnics +loose."</p> + +<p>"I see, his poor paw is badly cut," said Malcolm; "shall I bandage it +up?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be most grateful if you will, but I warn you that he <i>may</i> +bite you!"</p> + +<p>"And then you'll have to bandage me! Eh, is it a bargain?"</p> + +<p>"I will guarantee to hold his mouth quite firmly, and you can please +take my handkerchief."</p> + +<p>"No, no; mine is the best," said the impromptu surgeon, and in five +minutes the business was successfully accomplished.</p> + +<p>"I think he has sense to know that I mean well," said Captain Haig, +"and now I propose to carry him home; it is not more than a mile."</p> + +<p>"But he is so heavy!" objected the young lady. "If you were to go back +and send a carriage to fetch us—how would that do?"</p> + +<p>Naturally this arrangement did not appeal to her companion, and he +replied with deliberate untruth:</p> + +<p>"The patient is a mere feather! You lay him in my arms and I'll do +nurse as if to the manner born."</p> + +<p>Having effected this amicable arrangement without any contretemps, the +pair set off, the young man carrying the dog, who proved to be a dead +weight and exceedingly irritable and sorry for himself.</p> + +<p>"Where did Madame get him?" asked his bearer abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Well, the fact is, he belonged to me originally, and is a native of +England," replied the girl. "I lived with a family from the time I was +eight till I was seventeen, and enjoyed a delightful country life."</p> + +<p>"No lessons—all haymaking, jam and holidays, I presume?"</p> + +<p>"Any amount of lessons and governesses. The Melvilles' daughter and +I shared them. Auntie paid me flying visits, and on one of these +occasions she noticed Toby, a young dog, full of tricks and spirits. +He was very nice to her (as he can be when he likes), and she simply +insisted on carrying him off."</p> + +<p>"Precisely as I am doing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; in a dog-box. It changed his whole career and outlook on +life. Instead of living in a barrel, hunting water rats and rabbits, +and having a brother in the house, and cousins in the village, he has +become a society dog, and a cynical, disappointed person."</p> + +<p>"Poor old boy!" exclaimed his nurse, "so he is out of his element like +many of his betters."</p> + +<p>From Dog Darling the conversation gradually became more personal, +Captain Haig walking as slowly as possible, and occasionally coming to +a dead halt, would have gladly carried his burden many miles—for the +sake of the dog's mistress. But everything, however agreeable, must +end, and the delightful <i>tête-à-tête</i> concluded all too soon at the +door of Ritter's Hotel. Madame de Godez professed herself to be much +touched by Captain Haig's attention to her sweet darling, and, as a +suitable reward, the following evening she invited him to coffee on the +Casino terrace, which invitation he grasped at, since he had now come +to his last hours in Homburg. After the coffee had been served Captain +Haig and Miss Chandos instinctively, by a sort of mute mutual consent, +descended into the grounds, and strolled there in the moonlight, +listening to the superb string band. It happened to be playing "Die +Lieben Langen Tag," when Malcolm said:</p> + +<p>"Do you know this is my last day here? I'm off tomorrow morning."</p> + +<p>"Oh, are you?" she exclaimed, "must you really leave so soon? I am +sorry."</p> + +<p>"Not a thousandth part as sorry as <i>I</i> am," he responded, with what +seemed unnecessary emphasis. "I wonder if we shall ever meet again?"</p> + +<p>"I wonder?" she echoed meditatively. "How I should like to see your +gorgeous East! but of course I never shall. Please give my love to +India!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; the instant I sight Colaba light, if you will give me something +in return."</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Your photograph," was the bold reply.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but really, I never give that to any one," she answered rather +stiffly.</p> + +<p>"In Europe, no. But I am going ten thousand miles away. Do grant me +this favour—it will be a talisman to summon happy memories in a +foreign land."</p> + +<p>"But I know you will stick me in a row with forty other girls," she +objected, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"I will not," he rejoined, with prompt vehemence, "never—I swear it." +A pause, and he reiterated his request. "Will you?" he pleaded, sinking +his voice to a half-whisper.</p> + +<p>"I will see," she replied, "and now I really must return to auntie and +carry her off to bed. I am trying to coax her to keep early hours, and +she is as fractious as a little girl of six."</p> + +<p>Malcolm Haig having mentally consigned Madame to the bed of the Red +Sea, reluctantly turned towards the Casino, and as they passed near +some great trees he halted abruptly and said:</p> + +<p>"I think, if you don't mind, I'll say good-bye here."</p> + +<p>"Why?" she asked quickly. Then, as she glanced at him, she noticed in +the moonlight that her companion's face was working with some strong +emotion, and it dawned upon her for the first time that Captain Haig +was in love with her, and struggling to say, with decent fortitude, +farewell for ever.</p> + +<p>Miss Chandos was startled and not a little sorry, although her own +heart was untouched. Auntie need not have been so pointedly careful to +exclude Sir Horace's handsome nephew from all her select little parties.</p> + +<p>She hesitated for a moment, then murmured "Good-bye" as she held out +her hand.</p> + +<p>For a second he held it fast; then, suddenly stooping, pressed his lips +upon it, and the beautiful princess did not resist. Possibly she was +accustomed to such homage!</p> + +<p>The following morning, before Captain Haig departed, a large square +envelope was delivered to him. He opened it with a thumping pulse to +discover (as he hoped) the portrait of his lady love.</p> + +<p>Certainly it was a beautiful face. The lips and eyes seemed almost to +speak. Across one corner was inscribed, in a clear, fine hand, "Verona +Chandos."</p> + +<p>Captain Haig was occasionally impulsive; he was stirred by impulse now, +and seizing a sheet of the hotel paper he sat down immediately and +scrawled:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Miss Chandos</span>,—</p> + +<p>"Thank you for your gracious gift, I prize it above everything I +possess. I am, alas! but a humble soldier, and you are the Fairy +Princess; should the princess ever need a champion to do battle for +her, I pray that she may command till death,</p> + +<p class="ph2">"<span class="smcap">Malcolm Haig</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>Malcolm Haig was already nearing Frankfort, with his cap drawn far +over his eyes, and a curious sensation gripping his heart, when Verona +received his note. She read it over twice—the first time quickly, the +second with a pleased smile—and somewhat to her own surprise, crammed +it away among her unanswered letters.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Many months had elapsed since Malcolm Haig bartered his heart in +exchange for a photograph; he was once more resigned to the monotonous +round of regimental duty in an Indian cantonment, had purchased a +promising pony, who ran at small meetings under the mysterious initial +of "V. C."—a "V. C." who was gradually absorbing the interest once +given to her namesake, and, to tell the plain unvarnished truth, the +memory of a certain dazzling princess had become a little dim!</p> + +<p>Madame de Godez and Verona were in England. They had no occasion now +to dread the Dover Custom House, for Dog Darling was defunct. His +death had been a genuine grief to his mistress, who looked as if she +too would soon cross the frontier of an unknown land. The old lady was +changed, a life of uninterrupted self-indulgence had begun to tell at +last. There were deep lines in her face, and pouches under her eyes, +her breath was scanty and her spirits were low.</p> + +<p>She had come to London in order to consult a specialist, and to confer +with her man of business, and for some weeks had been established in +the best suite of a well-known private hotel off Piccadilly.</p> + +<p>It was a foggy night in March, the lamps across the way were barely +discernible, the traffic had almost ceased. In a stately drawing-room, +Madame, hunched up in a low chair, was cowering over the fire. As +she sat staring into the coals with a far-away, vacant expression, +she looked very old, and dark, and sick—despite a splendid satin +tea-gown, and the pearl-powder on her face. Verona, her pride and +boast, was now transformed from a mere beauty on exhibition to an +affectionate and efficient nurse—Madame's unwearied comforter +and companion. She had been reading aloud since dinner time, in a +clear steady voice, detailed descriptions of fashionable doings and +particulars of a great wedding: such news as the soul of her listener +loved, until Madame, who had been inattentive for a long time, suddenly +exclaimed in a fretful tone:</p> + +<p>"There, there, Verona, child, that will do! Turn off the lights, they +hurt my eyes, and come and sit by the fire and talk to me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, auntie," she answered, promptly putting aside the paper and +lowering the lights, "and now"—taking one of the old woman's hands in +hers and stroking it softly—"tell me, what shall we talk about?"</p> + +<p>"I've been thinking of the Prince," was the unexpected answer. "How +I wish you had married him! He was a nice fellow, and if he had no +money—what matter for thatt!"</p> + +<p>"I could not have married him, dear."</p> + +<p>"Why nott?"</p> + +<p>"Because he was so effeminate, so sentimental, and, above all, so dark. +Why he was like a black-a-moor!"</p> + +<p>"Verona, it is awfullee wicked to talk like that!" cried Madame, with +unusual excitement. "What harm is a little black blood to anyone? It is +a great sin to be so particular—some of the Saints are ink-black in +their pictures. Oh, you may yet be punished for such shocking pride!"</p> + +<p>"But, dear darling, it is not pride; it is antipathy. I cannot help +it, it is born in me. There were two West Indian girls at the dancing +class, and I could not endure them for partners. I shuddered when our +hands met, their touch seemed so boneless and damp."</p> + +<p>"I tell you, you may be sorry for this sinful feeling, some day."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, auntie. I'm sorry <i>now</i>, but I really can't help myself. +I am afraid you are very tired, dear," she continued, again stroking +the old lady's withered hand, "that lawyer, Mr. Middlemass, absorbs too +much time; he was here for nearly an hour this afternoon. What were you +doing?"</p> + +<p>"I was giving him instructions about my will—he was drawing it up."</p> + +<p>"But I thought you had made it ages ago."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, several wills. The fact is, lovey," and here she placed her +hand over Verona's, "I am superstitious. I've always thought it so +unlucky to make my will. Yet I've done it, because Mr. Middlemass has +been troublesome, and 'dicked' me so, for your sake. Then when I feel +ill, I say to myself, oh, it's all because of this horrid old will, +and so I will burn it! I have burned three"—there was a distinct note +of exultation in the confession—"now I am mailing," here she heaved a +deep sigh, "another."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you are not fit to do law business at present; do wait a +little."</p> + +<p>"No, I can not; that Middlemass has been scolding me to-day, and says I +ought to settle my affairs, for if I—" she hesitated, and went on—"I +were to die, every pice I possess goes to my husband's relations. And +then what would become of you, my dearie?"</p> + +<p>"Do not let us talk of such things, auntie. At present I have you, and +you are much better."</p> + +<p>"I tell him a rich girl has always friends!" mused Madame, as if +talking to herself. "You have numbers of friends, Verona, but most of +them are abroad. So are your admirers. I am sorry now I've stayed out +of England these five years. One is soon forgotten, and loses touch +with people. At this time of year, too, our acquaintances are in the +country, or on the Riviera. When I feel arl-right, I shall take a big +house in town, and give dances, and bridge parties, and entertain—and +<i>then</i> my old set will soon remember me."</p> + +<p>There was a silence, during which the two women sat staring at the +fire. At last the girl spoke, with the abruptness of one who has made +up her mind to broach a strange topic.</p> + +<p>"Auntie! I wish you would tell me something about myself. Do, dear +auntie! I am two-and-twenty years of age, and I know nothing of what +is called, my forbears. If anyone were to say to me, 'Who are you?' I +should be obliged to reply, 'I don't know!'"</p> + +<p>"If you say, 'I am the adopted daughter and heiress of Fernanda de +Godez,' you will find they are perfectly satisfied," rejoined her +companion, in a sharp emphatic key.</p> + +<p>"But <i>I</i> am not.—Oh, do forgive me, dearest, I feel sure that no kith +or kin could have done more for me than you, and I am a truly fortunate +girl; for it is not money only that you have given me, but love. It +does seem so extraordinary, that I have no belongings, and that all I +know of my past is that when I was a tiny child, and a year old, you +adopted me and brought me home from India."</p> + +<p>"That is true," granted her listener.</p> + +<p>"I must have been over a year old, for I can dimly recall the steamer, +and the black faces of the Lascars."</p> + +<p>"Ho, ho! there you go! black faces! You were nearly two when you +landed."</p> + +<p>"They must have died within a short time of one another," resumed +Verona, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, child? Who are you talking about?"</p> + +<p>"My father and mother."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, yes, I have allowed everyone to suppose you were an orphan," +continued Madame, staring straight before her in dreamy fashion, "but I +have never said so."</p> + +<p>"Not an orphan!" repeated the girl, sitting erect, and turning quickly +to her companion. "Oh, darling auntie, do tell me—it will make no +difference to you—is my mother alive?"</p> + +<p>Her voice shook for an imperceptible moment, and her eyes glowed with +expectancy.</p> + +<p>"Now, what nonsense this is!" cried Madame de Godez peevishly. "What +would you give to know?"</p> + +<p>Verona suddenly averted her eager face, and made no answer.</p> + +<p>The ensuing silence was so unusually prolonged that at last the +old lady jerked her head round, and glanced interrogatively at her +companion. To her amazement and dismay she saw two great tears stealing +down the girl's face.</p> + +<p>Verona's tears were more than she could endure. Verona, who rarely +wept, even as a child; Verona, who had scarcely grieved for the dog.</p> + +<p>"Come, come, come, lovey, don't! I cannot bear it. No! since you are so +foolish, then I will tell you."</p> + +<p>The girl turned to her instantly, her eyes were wet, her lips were +parted.</p> + +<p>"Your father and mother are both alive—in India—and well, for all I +know—there now!"</p> + +<p>For a moment her listener remained silent and motionless; she seemed +stunned; twice she endeavoured to articulate, but failed. At last she +said:</p> + +<p>"My father and mother! Oh, thank God! Auntie, isn't it wonderful?"</p> + +<p>"No-ah! there is nothing wonderful at all," retorted Madame de Godez, +"I knew the family. They were hard up, they had debts, and children, +and as I was leaving India a widow, alone, I offered to take you to be +my own daughter, and never to see them again."</p> + +<p>"And they agreed?" exclaimed the girl, and her words were faint and +tremulous.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course. It was a fine bargain for them, and you. Oh, you were +a pretty child! Just like a little angel on a Christmas card. Now, +Verona, I would never have spoken of this, and let you think what you +pleased, only—you have worried it out of me!"</p> + +<p>"Are my people related to you?" she faltered.</p> + +<p>"Never mind."</p> + +<p>"Have I any brothers and sisters?"</p> + +<p>"It does not matter, for you will never see them," replied the old +lady, who was obviously disturbed and displeased. "You will never go to +India, make yourself easy about thatt."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear auntie," said the girl suddenly, sinking on her knees, and +putting both her arms round her friend's dumpy figure, "you know very +well that it is not like you to talk in this way. You know that you can +make me very happy. You load me with diamonds and pearls, far more than +I want; give me a few precious words—they are of more value to me than +jewels. Do tell me something about my father, and above all"—with a +sudden impulsive movement—"my mother. Do, darling, please." And the +petitioner drew the old woman into a yet closer embrace, and imprinted +warm kisses on her ugly, lipless mouth.</p> + +<p>"Well, then," gasped Madame, a little breathlessly, "you are such +a coax! I suppose I must! Your father is a gentleman, of old, old +family—he looks like a duke. He was in the Army long ago, but he was +hard up, and so he had to leave. He has now a civil post."</p> + +<p>"And my mother?" Verona's lips dwelt lingeringly on the word; there was +a strange expression in her eye.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no! She is not much! She is not a friend of mine. No, no, I +do not like her; but she was once a beauty. Now, Verona," suddenly +releasing herself, "that is enough. No, but too much. Be satisfied. I +am your father and mother, and sisters and brothers. They are Indian +people, with Indian notions, and they do not want you. You are not one +of them—and never can be one of them."</p> + +<p>"No," agreed her hearer, half under her breath. "Gains involve +losses"—the saying flashed into her mind with cruel opportuneness, and +Verona realised with a pang that she had gained a life of luxurious +ease, in exchange for her own people and her father's house.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no, they do not want you," reiterated Madame, "'the flower +returns not to the branch,' as Baptista Lopez would say: she and I +were at school together. My! what a girl for proverbs!"</p> + +<p>"Do they ever write?" ventured Verona.</p> + +<p>"There, now, you see what I have put in your head!" cried Madame +angrily. "I am sorry I told you one single word; it is all useless, +foolish talk. I am tired. Ring for Pauline, and I will go to my bed." +As she spoke she rose from her chair with Verona's assistance, then +grasped her arm, and tottered painfully out of the room.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Madame's adopted daughter had led a wandering life, until she was eight +years old, and was supremely ignorant of what the word "home" implied. +Madame had surely some gipsy blood in her veins (and was not averse to +the idea). She drifted about the Continent from one fashionable hotel +to another, with a retinue of servants, tons of luggage, a parrot, a +poodle, and a child.</p> + +<p>This was all very well for the parrot and the poodle, but for the child +it was another affair. Her education was of a peculiar description, +and undoubtedly resembled a meal, where the sweets are served before +the joints. "La petite Verona" danced delightfully, acted with +extraordinary intelligence, and sang piquant little songs in her shrill +childish voice—such were her accomplishments. She was dainty, and +pretty, and graceful; in short, she was Madame de Godez's doll—and +idol. But, low be it whispered, she could hardly read simple words, +a pen and needle were strangers to her tiny hands; geography and +arithmetic were but hideous names, and yet the child could declaim a +tragedy, play the mandoline, and converse fluently in three languages.</p> + +<p>It seemed a sheer miracle that this petted little creature should +have remained unspoiled, but her sense of truth and honour appeared +to be inborn and innate, and she had none of the greedy, selfish, +elfish ways of solitary and applauded children. In short, her little +heart was in its right place, her feelings were deep and sincere. +She was attached to her <i>bonne</i>, her auntie, and the parrot; to one +of the waiters at the "Hotel Bristol," and to Martin, the <i>concierge</i> +at "the Ambassadors" in Rome. But she and Polo, the poodle, had +never really fraternised, being performers, public favourites, and +necessarily—rivals.</p> + +<p>The child was by no means perfect. Her temper was hot, and it must +be frankly admitted that her manner to those she considered her +inferiors was occasionally haughty and disdainful; her pride was stern +and unbending, for, although she had no petty conceit, she took the +personality of Miss Verona Chandos with a gravity that was ludicrous.</p> + +<p>A sudden and complete change in the child's life may be attributed to +one cause, and the name of that cause was, "scarlatina." She caught the +complaint, and had it badly, thereby occasioned a serious commotion, as +well as much inconvenience, in a certain smart hotel, and subsequent +heavy expense to her auntie. A soft-voiced, dove-eyed matron pointed +out to this lady that a girl of Verona's age had still a whole gamut +of diseases to run through—measles, mumps, whooping cough—this would +necessarily lead to continual annoyance, quarantine, and enforced +seclusion.</p> + +<p>"But <i>what</i> am I to do?" demanded Madame in her staccato key.</p> + +<p>"Send her to England without delay. It is fully time she was properly +educated, and mixed with other children."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but she is so clever!"</p> + +<p>"True, in a way, but she cannot read or write. Surely, dear friend, you +do not wish Verona to grow up an ignoramus and a laughing-stock?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, no," ejaculated Madame, "but I could not send her to school. I +hated school myself."</p> + +<p>Lady Wallsend stared; it seemed such a singular and grotesque idea that +Madame de Godez should ever have been at school.</p> + +<p>"And I happen to know a most charming family in England—extremely +kind, refined, and well connected. They are looking for a companion, to +educate with their little girl Madge."</p> + +<p>"Oh, do you think that would answer?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, quite admirably. The Melvilles are my own cousins—not wealthy. +They would, of course, expect handsome terms, and for these, the child +would have every care, the best of teachers, a delightful country home, +and a playmate of her own age."</p> + +<p>Madame, who was still smarting from exorbitant charges, and penetrated +with the dread of measles and chicken-pox, lent a ready ear to Lady +Wallsend's not wholly disinterested suggestion; preliminaries were +arranged, and Verona Chandos, a Frenchified, dressy, self-possessed +little personage, was duly received at Halstead Manor. Here she lived +as one of the family for nine happy years, sharing all the joys and +sorrows, games and lessons, of her friend Madge; and being an orphan, +was from the first adopted into the motherly heart of Mrs. Melville.</p> + +<p>Madame de Godez did not lose sight of her <i>protégée</i>. During the +London season she travelled to England, and carried off Verona for a +sensational holiday; but when the girl was seventeen, and gave promise +of remarkable beauty, her adopted mother promptly claimed her, loudly +announcing that "life was no longer possible without her adored child." +Here was the first serious trouble in Verona's life. She felt almost +heartbroken as she and Madge went round, arm in arm, paying farewell +visits in the village, the stable yard—not forgetting the seagull, +and the tortoise in the garden. Their tears flowed fast as they +separated their respective treasures in the old schoolroom, but Madame +de Godez laughed at their sorrows, and believed that she had stifled +every regret when she presented each of the mourners with a fine pearl +necklace.</p> + +<p>In spite of Madame's mock sympathy and real pearls, Verona found it a +painful wrench to bid good-bye to her beloved country home, with all +its happy associations, and to go forth into the blare and glare of the +great world, and the fierce white light which beats upon a beauty, and +an heiress.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>When Verona had assisted Pauline to put her mistress to bed—a lengthy +and intricate process—when she had put everything in the way of salts, +lozenges, and refreshment, within the patient's reach, lit a night-lamp +and turned off the electric light, she returned to the drawing-room and +sat down before the fire. Here she remained in one thoughtful attitude +for a long time. As she leant her cheek on her hand, the firelight on +the wall made a clear-cut silhouette of her graceful, motionless figure.</p> + +<p>As the girl sat thus, she was staring, not at the coals, but into the +dim past, yearning to recall some face, urging her torpid memory to +send her even one sign. But, strive as she would, all that emerged from +the veil which concealed those far-away days was a little painted toy! +A wooden figure with a yellow turban, and a scarlet body covered with +gold spots. She remembered it perfectly, her anguish when it had fallen +overboard, and how she had wept. It was marvellous that such a paltry +item should remain fixed in a child's brain, and that yet she could not +recall the face of her parents. No, as far as they were concerned, her +memory was a hopeless blank.</p> + +<p>Her heart was full to bursting, her thoughts were moving and strange. +At last she sprang up and began to pace the room, with subdued silken +rustlings and a quick light tread.</p> + +<p>Once she stood still and, stretching her arms to the irresponsive +London fog, whispered in tones of the most exquisite tenderness, "Oh, +mother, mother, mother!"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The morning after this unusual conversation Verona awoke with the +sensation that something extraordinary had happened; awoke to a vague +sense of disaster—a loss of something out of her life, a loss of +birthright and inheritance; and in spite of an imperious voice which +clamoured in her ear of auntie's affection and indulgence, she was +aware of a feeling of dissatisfaction and disquiet. Instead of rising +as usual when her maid brought in her bath and tea, she lay for a +long, long time, staring vacantly at the wallpaper and entertaining +a succession of unfamiliar thoughts. She was endeavouring to become +acquainted with the personal meaning of the strange words father, +mother, brother, sister, and home.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>There was a sudden improvement in the weather, a capricious change +which flooded the city with sunshine; bright blue skies stared down +upon the leafless parks and hinted at approaching Spring.</p> + +<p>Madame de Godez, who was painfully sensitive to climate and constantly +referred to herself as "a true child of the sun," now declared that she +felt much better—almost well; and instead of cowering over the coals, +with her head enveloped in a shawl, her feet encased in fur slippers, +she roused up, made a toilet, ordered a carriage, and drove about to +milliners, house agents and restaurants. "The child of the sun" was +no longer a shivering, ailing old woman, but the bustling and jaunty +Madame de Godez of former days. The transformation was astounding; she +angrily refused to follow the doctor's orders, flouted the idea of +a <i>régime</i>, and her appetite for the pleasures of the table and the +pleasures of society was, if anything, keener than ever.</p> + +<p>The convalescent, in spite of eloquent expostulations, returned to her +favourite menu of spiced meats, rich <i>entrées</i>, champagne, and caviare, +and boastfully assured her adopted daughter that "she was the best +judge of her own health. London doctors were quacks and alarmists, and +all she required was a complete change; a couple of weeks at Brighton +would transform her into another woman." Madame was self-willed and +strong. For twenty-three years no one had ventured to oppose her, and +for some little time her own prescription—to eat and drink and make +merry—seemed unexpectedly efficacious.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, after enjoying a hearty lunch on prawn curry (with hot +condiments), roast hare, plum cake, and bottled stout, she sat down to +write to a house agent, and when in the act of signing her name, was +seized with an apoplectic fit, and before a doctor could be summoned, +became insensible, never recovered consciousness, and died that night. +Thus Madame de Godez had experienced a change, and one that she little +anticipated—the great change of all.</p> + +<p>There was the usual amount of startled confusion succeeding a sudden +death. Verona was shocked and grief-stricken; all Madame's little +peculiarities were forgotten, her good qualities remembered, as she +gazed through her tears on the still, dark face, contrasting so sharply +with the sheets and pillows, and clothed in all the dignity of death.</p> + +<p>Mr. Middlemass, a wooden-faced family lawyer, was soon on the spot, +and undertook all correspondence and funeral arrangements. Verona's +good friend, Mrs. Melville, hurried up to town at once, in order to be +with her, and she proved a comfort and tower of strength. Soon after +her arrival Mrs. Melville had a long conversation with Mr. Middlemass, +who said to her with alarming gravity: "I am sorry to inform you that +Madame de Godez has not signed her will."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" exclaimed the lady, rather blankly. "Has she not?"</p> + +<p>"No. I have urged her repeatedly to settle her affairs, in common +justice to Miss Chandos. She intended her to succeed to almost all she +possessed. I have drawn up her instructions. This is the fourth will I +have executed; the former three she destroyed. I had it prepared and +ready for her signature, but she postponed the appointment, day after +day, and now"—throwing out his hands—"she is gone——"</p> + +<p>"Then it will make a great difference to Miss Chandos?"</p> + +<p>"The greatest in the world. If the will had been duly signed—just +two words written—Miss Chandos would come in for fifteen thousand a +year—she would be an heiress. Now she is, I may say, penniless. It's +one of the worst cases of procrastination I've ever known."</p> + +<p>"And what becomes of all the money?" asked Mrs. Melville.</p> + +<p>"It goes to the next-of-kin—the Gowdys. They can claim everything, +under Mr. Gowdy's will, which states that, if his wife died intestate, +his fortune was to go to his brother and his children, the heirs at +law."</p> + +<p>"And who are they?" she inquired, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Scotch farmer folk. I understand they have deeply resented the fact +that the whole of their uncle's estate was left to his widow. James +Gowdy was an indigo planter in the big days, and spent forty years in +India. Madame disliked the name of Gowdy and transformed it into De +Godez; it pleased her, and did no one any harm. Of course her business +papers are signed in her real name."</p> + +<p>"This is terrible news for my poor young friend," exclaimed Mrs. +Melville. "Then she has no claim, and was no relation to her mother by +adoption?"</p> + +<p>"No more than I was."</p> + +<p>"And is left penniless?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, as far as Madame's money is concerned. Of course, the Gowdys may +do something. I shall bring the matter strongly to their notice, and +urge them to be liberal. I have wired, and written, and requested them +to come down immediately, and I have postponed the funeral until their +arrival."</p> + +<p>"Well, I must go and break all this bad news to my poor child," said +Mrs. Melville. "You know she is almost like one of my own; it is +dreadful to think of her being left alone in the world."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there you are misinformed. She is not an orphan, as has been +generally supposed. Her father and mother are alive out in India. +Madame adopted her, and cut her off from her family; she allowed +no correspondence, as she was exceedingly jealous of the girl's +affections. Now, no doubt, Miss Chandos will return to her family."</p> + +<p>"With all the ideas, refinements, tastes and habits of a girl who has +been brought up in England on an income of thousands. How cruel!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but from what I know of Miss Chandos, her tastes appear to be +simple, and her ideas are not extravagant. I think she will adapt +herself to circumstances. She seems a sensible girl."</p> + +<p>"All you say is perfectly true, Mr. Middlemass. She lived with us for +nine years. Her own people are not rich, I gather?"</p> + +<p>"No, very far from it."</p> + +<p>"And is she to have nothing? Nothing whatever?"</p> + +<p>"Her personal effects, clothes and jewellery—that is all that she can +claim, by the letter of the law."</p> + +<p>"How inhuman the law is! I really think Madame has behaved in the most +shameful, selfish way. What a cruel old woman!"</p> + +<p>"Only a superstitious old woman," amended Mr. Middlemass, "who believed +that a will was a reminder to the Angel of Death. She would be more +heart-broken than anyone, at the present state of affairs, and she +could not bear the name of the Gowdys. You may be satisfied that I +will do my utmost to secure some provision for Miss Chandos." And with +this friendly assurance Mr. Middlemass took his grey suède gloves, his +glossy hat, and his departure.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Mistress Jean Gowdy was the tenant of a sheep farm on a moor, north of +Perth, where by rigorous economy and unwearied industry she and her two +sons and daughter contrived to make the rent, to live frugally, and to +put by a bit.</p> + +<p>Jean was a hale, active woman of sixty, with a fine handsome face, but +no figure to speak of—a hard-headed, hard-working, God-fearing Scotch +woman.</p> + +<p>She had not married over young, but was five-and-thirty years of age, a +sensible and settled person, when she bestowed herself and her savings +on Andy Gowdy, a small farmer body, with a little money, and a keen +desire to better his position.</p> + +<p>The couple had taken a long lease of Ardnashiel sheep farm, because +being twenty miles from a railway it was cheap; there was plenty of +water, fair grazing, and a comfortable stone house on the moor. Here +for several years they struggled on bravely, through terrible winters +and wet springs, and were at last beginning "to see their way." +Unhappily, one dark morning, when the river was coming down in spate, +Andy, in endeavouring to ford it, with his horse and cart, was drowned. +The fierce mountain torrent turned over the cart, amidst the boulder +stones, as if it were a child's toy, and despite of the desperate +struggles of the fine young horse to effect a landing, he and his +master were swept away to their death.</p> + +<p>The body of Andy was recovered three miles down the glen. There was +loud lamentation for him among the neighbouring farmers and shepherds, +and a great concourse from afar attended the funeral, when he was +buried in an almost forgotten churchyard among the hills. The loss of +a fine young horse, the marks of whose frantic hoofs were imprinted on +the banks for years, was almost equally deplored. He had lately cost +thirty pounds in Perth, and the tragedy was never related without due +mention of his fate.</p> + +<p>Andy Gowdy was drowned, and his widow Jean reigned in his stead. The +poor woman found it no easy matter to carry on the farm, and to give +her children a bit of schooling; what with minding the bairns, the +housework, and the sheep, she was often on the point of breaking down +under her burthen, and it is a fact that only for the exertions of +three notable collie dogs they might almost have starved. But Jean +Gowdy, a woman of true Highland tenacity and indomitable courage, +struggled on bravely. Her children throve, thanks to the keen mountain +air and the good porridge and milk. The boys, Andrew and Jock, were now +able-bodied men, and Maggie, their sister, was a fine sonsie lassie of +two-and-twenty. She had received some sort of an education, for their +mother had sent them by turns to an aunt in Stirling, and they were all +great readers—what else was there to do in the long winter nights? +even when their mother drove them to bed at eight o'clock and reminded +them that their grandmother, who talked only Gaelic, had always retired +at dark. But these were different days, they declared, and no Scotch +folk would now consent to pass three-quarters of their time in bed—in +order to save lamp oil!</p> + +<p>Oh, those winter nights! when the wind swept down through the glen, +and they could hear the starving deer stamping outside in the snow and +dragging at the wood stack. On these occasions, Mrs. Gowdy knitted +stockings, and did curious sums in mental arithmetic; the lads read the +paper and such books as they had borrowed from the minister. Jock's +shock-haired red head was bent over Adam Smith's "Wealth of Nations." +He was clever and ambitious, and had long resolved that <i>he</i> was not +going to waste his life in herding sheep, milking cows, and dragging +up and down the weary road to the town for coal and groceries. No! +Jock had heard the history of his uncle Jamie, and he was educating +himself with painful, but continuous, effort, in order that he might +also go out into the world and do something—something that would +bring him in money and applause. To begin with, he was going to the +University of Glasgow, and was reading for a bursary. His family +tacitly acquiesced; they respected his ambition and agreed that Jock +was to be somebody—some day. He was, therefore, allowed the largest +share of lamplight and first claim on the ink bottle. His sister had +also her dreams, as she sat with a collie at her feet. Maggie Gowdy +hated the hard rough life. It was aye fine for her grandmother, or even +her mother; but times were changed; there was no fun or stir beyond a +rare jaunt to Stirling or Glasgow. All the other girls in the glen were +a thousand times better off than she was. It was easy for her mother +to say "bide a wee"; she might bide at Ardnashiel till she was old and +toothless. Young Campbell of Lussie used to come up the valley, by way +of fishing, and spier for her, and have a crack, but her mother found +it out, and made an awful row, and threatened to lock her in her room. +The kirk was full six miles away, and a desperate rough walk, and there +was no one there foreby some old shepherds, their wives, and a few +farming folk. Aye, when she read beautiful stories in the paper penny +books she bought with her knitting profits, she felt wild to be away in +the big world, to see people—and be seen. She had overheard Mistress +Murray tell her mother that it was an awful pity such a bonnie lass +should be shut away up the glen. Maggie was a tall, broad-shouldered +young woman, with a pair of fine bold eyes, a fresh complexion and +ropes of coarse dark hair, and felt perfectly confident that, if she +only had a bit of money, she would get a match.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gowdy too had her own schemes and wishes. She was surely and +secretly putting by money, and intended Maggie to marry a minister, and +if Jock went out in the world, and Andy took a wife, she had made up +her mind to end her days in Glasgow, and in peace; leaving the young +ones to carry on the farm. Ardnashiel was paying well; they had only +lost five sheep that winter; they were getting good prices; she had +no shepherds to pay, and no wages; it was little going out and most +coming in. Of course, it was main dull for the bairns, puir bodies, but +they were young—and could wait.</p> + +<p>The moor surrounding the grim blue-grey home of the Gowdys was +celebrated for an historical past, and a certain wild beauty peculiarly +its own; the romantic winding glen, guarded by steep mountains, was +watered by a capricious and picturesque river, which received many +tributaries. A rough cart track connected the glen with a high road, +which was seven miles distant, and in winter time the farmers and +cotters of Ardnashiel were frequently cut off from the outer world +for weeks. No wonder Maggie Gowdy dreaded these dark, dour days, the +leaden skies, the vast outlook on snow—snow, nothing but snow. Her +heart sank within her when, late in October, she watched the tenants of +a neighbouring shooting lodge pass down the rutty tracks, with their +servants, and luggage, and dogs—a long and imposing procession. As the +last cart turned the corner and was lost to sight, Maggie had known +what it was to rest her head between her knees and sob aloud.</p> + +<p>Oh, winter was cruel to all the world, and especially to her; but +her mother was a woman of extraordinary force of character, and kept +everything going—the lads at the sheep-feeding and their books, and +herself at sewing and knitting. Summer and Autumn made some amends; the +streams ran merrily, the curlew called, the sheep bleated, the swallows +and the shooters returned, and the white mountains were clothed in +purple. When the day's work was over, the cows milked, the fowls +fed, Mrs. Gowdy would repair to her parlour in order to add up her +accounts. This was her period of mental refreshment, and if the lambs +had sold well, and fleeces were heavy, her heart was light. Jean Gowdy +lived meagrely below, in four rooms, a kitchen and three bedrooms. +She and Maggie washed at the pump, and shared one bed and a sixpenny +looking-glass.</p> + +<p>But, like most self-respecting Scots folk, they had a sacred place +apart—a parlour, where they received company and entertained the +minister. This parlour had been handsomely plenished when Jean had +come to the glen a newly-wedded wife. She was proud of it then—she +was proud of it still. There was a green and red carpet, good mahogany +chairs, and a shiny sofa in horsehair, a variety of framed photographs, +two dyed sheepskin rugs, held down unnecessarily in the corners by +large foreign shells, some oleographs of Rome and Naples, and a large +picture of Queen Victoria; it was here, in a locked bureau, that Mrs. +Gowdy kept her business documents, her bank book, and her will. Sitting +there in her every-day gown and blue apron, with her bare arms and +toil-worn hands, she looked more like a servant who was poking through +her mistress's papers than the proprietor of the apartment. These were +her moments of delicious relaxation. Her daughter's diversion took the +form of a stroll as far as the next farm gate in the faint hope of +meeting someone, or else she climbed up to the old churchyard, which +commanded a magnificent prospect, and sat on a tombstone, building +castles in the air, and railing at her fate. Her thoughts frequently +turned to her father's brother Jamie, who, fifty years before, had gone +to the East Indies, and got on from one thing to another, had owned +hundreds of black men, and, it was even reported, elephants, and had +died as rich as a duke, leaving thousands and thousands to his widow, +but not one blessed bawbee to his own folk. Certainly, it was true that +her father and Uncle Jamie had had high words and a bitter quarrel +before he sailed, folks said, over a five-shilling piece, but they +might be wrong. Anyhow, her mother allowed they had no good will to one +another; but that was an old story, and she and her brothers were his +near kin. He had married a foreign woman, had no family, and had made +his home in the Indies, and never once came back to Scotland. His widow +had, so they heard, adopted a baby, and brought her up like a princess; +and there was she, his own flesh and blood, living on porridge, and +working and washing like any common woman. What a scandal!</p> + +<p>When Maggie thought of this other girl, set out in silks and jewels, +and getting a grand education, and "chances," the blood fairly boiled +in her veins. She was far more embittered and furious against this +intruder than against her Uncle Jamie, or even his foreign wife. Here +was she, Maggie Gowdy, imprisoned and held fast within these glens by +poverty and a strong-willed mother, and she, though well enough looking +and educated and young, would never have a chance to be anything but +a drudge. She dared not throw off her mother's thrall; she had once +talked of service, but it was to deaf ears, and here she was, nigh +three-and-twenty and, as Jock had cruelly reminded her, "getting past +her market." Oh, she felt mad-like—to think of the wasted years!</p> + +<p>When Maggie's mind dwelt on these matters and on the remorseless +monotony of her life, she felt distracted. She recalled how young Joe +Macdonald used to come up the moor, by way of looking for a stray +sheep, and how he had appeared at their chapel two Sundays running, and +met her once in Perth; and then, all of a sudden, he cooled off, and +took up with Allie McCrone, a yellow-haired girl, with a fortune of +three hundred pounds! Her mother had said, "Never you mind, my lass, +you shall have a fortune, too, as well as Allie. I was up for forty +when I got married, but I brought your father four hundred pounds. It +went to stock this place, and where we had one sheep then we have a +score the noo. You have plenty of time yet—you <i>wait</i>."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was late on an April evening in the glen, the snow had melted, and +swelled the river far above its banks, the waterfalls were pouring down +the hillsides, the small burns were noisy and boisterous, and Andy +Gowdy, who had been to the town with the cart for coal and a bag of +flour, was not sorry when he came to the last gate of all. As soon as +he had "loused" the pony, he carried into the kitchen a sack of flour, +a small parcel of tea and sugar, and a letter. This he brought to his +mother, who was frying something over the fire.</p> + +<p>"There's a letter for you," he drawled.</p> + +<p>"Leave it there—it can bide. It's about the sheep wash and tar."</p> + +<p>"I'm no so sure of that, it looks out of the ordinary, and the postmark +is London."</p> + +<p>"Land sakes—it's for the keeper above."</p> + +<p>"Nay, it's for Mrs. Andy Gowdy, Ardnashiel."</p> + +<p>"Then give it here. No, my hands is black—you read it, Andy."</p> + +<p>Andy at once opened the letter and began:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Lincoln's Inn Fields</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>"Aye, didn't I tell ye it was aboot the farm!" interrupted his mother.</p> + +<p>"No—no—listen here—to what it says," rejoined Andy, with heightened +colour.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Madam</span>,—I have to acquaint you with the sudden death of +Mrs. James Gowdy, which took place yesterday at the 'Beaufort Hotel' +in Dover Street, Piccadilly. I am her solicitor, and aware that her +will, though drawn up, is unsigned. Therefore, I believe, the fortune +of her late husband devolves upon his next-of-kin, who I assume to be +your children. I am making all arrangements for the funeral, which I +propose should take place at Kensal Green on April 30. I fixed this +date presuming that you and members of your family will be present. +Kindly write instructions at once, or telegraph. Miss Chandos, Mrs. +James Gowdy's adopted daughter, is at present at the Hotel. I beg to +add that my firm, having conducted the business of Mrs. Gowdy for +twenty years, are conversant with all its details, and we shall be +happy to place our experience at your service.</p> + +<p>"I remain, Madam,</p> + +<p class="ph2">"Yours faithfully,<br> +"<span class="smcap">George Middlemass</span>.</p> + +<p>"To Mrs. Andrew Gowdy."</p> +</div> + +<p>When Andy had finished reading the foregoing, he drew a long loud +breath and looked around him. There was a dead silence. Mrs. Gowdy +straightened her back, and still holding a sausage on a fork, stood +staring hard at her son. Then she turned about, and snatching the pan +off the fire, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Well! to think of that! Losh me! It's ten thousand a year coming among +ye. It's hard to credit!"</p> + +<p>Maggie, who had been washing rubbers in the scullery, stood in the +doorway with cold wet arms and crimson cheeks and eyes like two flames.</p> + +<p>"What shall we do?" she asked, hysterically. "What shall we do?"</p> + +<p>"First of all, thank God," rejoined her pious mother, "and then have a +bit of supper before we begin to talk and make plans."</p> + +<p>"I could not taste a mite!" cried Maggie, in a strange hoarse voice, +"let us talk now, if we ever talked. We are not dumb beasts. Let the +supper bide."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gowdy gazed at her daughter fixedly. The mere name of money had +transformed the girl into another creature; a woman with an imperious +countenance and a loud tongue.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," she agreed, and she sat down and stared out of the window +reflectively, whilst her children stood around in a dazed silence, +momentarily speechless.</p> + +<p>"We mun go to London in the morn," announced Mrs. Gowdy at last. "I see +that plain. This is Thursday, and the letter has lain two days. Jock, +the pony canna stir to-morrow; you mun run over and borrow Duncan's bay +horse, and bring it back with you. We will start at daybreak, there's +no call to be keeping the good money waiting, and we will just take a +few bits of things and my papers. I have a ten-pound note above in my +desk; Andy and Maggie will come with me, and you, Jock, mun mind the +place."</p> + +<p>"No, no, I'm not for agreeing to that," rejoined Jock, sullenly. "Why +should I stay behind more than Andy or Mag. Have I no share in the +fortune? I'm going!"</p> + +<p>Here were a son and daughter defying her authority for the first time +in their lives. And being a prudent and far-seeing woman, Mrs. Gowdy +instantly realised that she was no longer dealing with children and +dependents, subject to her thrall, but with the heirs of Jamie Gowdy's +fortune, who, should she stand in their way, would cut themselves loose +from her control. So much for money. In less than ten minutes it had +occasioned a domestic revolution.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, have yer way," she agreed. "I'm thinking of who's to mind +the cows and the chickens—forby the sheep. You might cry in to Alec +Macnab on yer way for the horse, and ask him and his son to give a look +to the place, and he'll need to be here at streak of day. I'll make it +worth their while. I'll give him a good fee."</p> + +<p>"All right," agreed Jock, "I'll bring Alec back with me."</p> + +<p>"Aye, and don't let on but what we are going to Glasgow on a bit of +family business. No use giving out the news before we are well up in it +ourselves."</p> + +<p>"Aye, I'll mind that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, won't the Flemings be wild," cried Maggie, "when they know it. Ten +thousand a year—and maybe more! Ten thousand a year!" As she spoke, +she hammered on the table with her wet red hands.</p> + +<p>"Now go off like a good lad," urged Mrs. Gowdy to her son, "and bring +over Alec and the bay horse. Mind ye, the train leaves the junction at +ten o'clock the morn."</p> + +<p>There was little sleep for anyone in Ardnashiel that night, and sunrise +saw Jean Gowdy and her bairns clad in their Sunday clothes, driving +through the dew-soaked glen, <i>en route</i> to establish their claim to a +fortune.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The Gowdy family was jogging slowly down the valley, which looked +brilliant in the early morning. The impetuous river raced alongside +its companion, a steady, rutty road, twisting and swirling, foaming +and flashing, rippling under rowan-beeches and tossing between great +boulders its white locks on high. Maggie and the river had one impulse +in common: they were both eager to escape from the glen; one drawn +by the world—the other by the sea. Halfway to the highway the party +encountered a boy with a telegram in his hand, which he held up as he +announced:</p> + +<p>"It's for Mistress Gowdy."</p> + +<p>A horrible idea instantly occurred to the four travellers—it might +contain something to put an end to their prospects! Telegrams in their +experience invariably brought tidings of ruin, accidents or death.</p> + +<p>"Give it here," cried Mrs. Gowdy in a hoarse key.</p> + +<p>"There'll be six shillings to pay!"</p> + +<p>"Yer daft!" screamed the thrifty matron, "yer telling a lee."</p> + +<p>"It's no lee—it's the post-office, and I came awa' at six this +morning. If yer going yonder ye can ask. But ye mun pay me the noo."</p> + +<p>"Then giv it to me," said Mrs. Gowdy, and with tremulous fingers she +tore open the envelope and read aloud:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"Hope you received letter respecting Mrs. James Gowdy's death and are +coming to London immediately. Telegraph reply.—<span class="smcap">Middlemass.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<p>"Oh, well"—with a sigh of relief—"so it's all right. But sax +shillings—to think of it!" and to tell the truth, for the remainder of +the drive (such is the force of habit), those poor six shillings had +a more prominent position in Jean Gowdy's thoughts than the splendid +prospect of thousands of pounds.</p> + +<p>The very next forenoon a four-wheeled cab drove up to the office of +Middlemass and Son, and from it descended the Gowdy party—who, after a +long and protracted altercation with the cabman, dismissed him routed +and grumbling, and then proceeded to enter the office, and present +themselves to their man of business.</p> + +<p>The widow in her decent black, her sons, with clever Scotch faces and +the hands of hard-working men—clad in homespun and embarrassment, +the daughter gay and complacent, with sparkling eyes and red cheeks, +arrayed in a sailor hat and a gown of hunting tartan. Yes, they had +all come with one consent to enter on their inheritance. Their papers +were duly produced, and found to be in order—marriage and baptismal +certificates had been registered in proper form, but the family were +not prepared for the law's delays, and certain irritating formalities +which must ensue before they could seize upon the Gowdy fortune. Mr. +Middlemass soon realised that in Mrs. Andy Gowdy he had to deal with a +sharp and capable woman of business. Her mind was clear; her questions +were to the point, and she soon laid bare the fact that Miss Chandos +was, to all purposes, now living luxuriously in a grand hotel, at their +expense!</p> + +<p>"She will, of course, leave after the funeral to-morrow," explained the +attorney in a tone of apology, "I believe the suite was taken by the +week."</p> + +<p>For the Gowdys themselves, rooms were engaged at a temperance hotel—a +sum of money was advanced for present expenses and mourning, and that +night, for the first time in their lives, they dined under the glare of +electric light, and were waited upon by brisk Germans.</p> + +<p>The funeral of Madame de Godez was a pitiful affair for a woman who +had such an immense circle of notable friends. There were only three +mourning coaches, three private carriages, and about a dozen cheap +wreaths.</p> + +<p>The heirs-at-law occupied the first coach (and had never before +driven behind a pair of horses). Verona and Mrs. Melville occupied the +second vehicle, the doctor and man of business the third; the private +carriages were empty!</p> + +<p>At the cemetery the Gowdys for the first time beheld Miss Chandos. She +was tall, and wore a long, black veil, and really appeared to be in +grief!</p> + +<p>They stood at opposite sides of the open grave—the penniless adopted +daughter, with her air of refinement and delicate breeding, and the +rough-looking farmer folk who were now so wealthy. The same afternoon +Mrs. Gowdy and her family made a formal call upon the girl they had so +unexpectedly supplanted, and were shown into a luxurious sitting-room, +for which, whilst they waited, Maggie remarked, "they were paying good +money."</p> + +<p>In a few minutes Miss Chandos entered, unveiled. Her personality +was so striking that Mrs. Gowdy so far forgot herself as to stand +up and drop a half-curtsey, but Maggie never moved, merely sat and +stared impassively. What was it, she wondered, that made this girl +so different to herself? Her low voice, her long white throat, the +delicacy of her hands, the natural dignity of her movements! Miss +Chandos had something that she could never possess, and that never +could be taken from her! Maggie realised the fact, with an increasing +degree of stolid hatred.</p> + +<p>"It is very kind of you to come and see me, Mrs. Gowdy," said the girl +gently.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, we thought we would just call for you, as we are idle folk +the noo—and see what like ye wer! It will be a sore change for ye, I'm +thinking," she added.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was very sudden."</p> + +<p>"And she made no will—nor left you a penny piece."</p> + +<p>"No; but she meant to do so."</p> + +<p>"There's justice in the Lord's sight!" declared this daughter of the +Covenanters with a lifted hand, "and He cut her off before she could +will the whole of my children's heritage to a stranger!"</p> + +<p>This was not a gracious speech. Her listener coloured vividly, but made +no reply.</p> + +<p>"I'm real sorry for you, but you have had a good day and a fine +education, and I suppose ye have gran' acquaintance?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have some friends."</p> + +<p>"And ye have plans, maybe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I shall remain with Mrs. Melville for a time, and then join my +own family in India."</p> + +<p>"Oh, so you are an Indian!" exclaimed Mrs. Gowdy. "Well, to think of +that, now, and you so fair! Mrs. James, I've always heard, was awfu' +swarthy."</p> + +<p>"My parents are English. I was brought home when I was quite small."</p> + +<p>"Aye, aye; so ye were," assented her visitor. "I mind it all. Mr. +Middlemass has been talking to me, and he wants us to make you an +allowance. But you have your own folk, and I see no call to that!" +Verona was about to speak. "Whist, now," interrupted her visitor, "of +course your clothes and jewels and presents are your own." Then she +paused and added: "Mrs. James Gowdy had gran' gowns and laces and +diamonds, and her belongings will be coming to <i>me</i>." Verona assented +with a bow. "I've agreed to pay your passage out, and give you three +hundred pounds."</p> + +<p>Verona could not immediately trust her voice. She would have rejoiced +to decline this liberal charity, but was keenly aware that it would be +her sole means of joining her parents.</p> + +<p>Should she refuse the dole? "No," urged common-sense, "accept the +crumb." And again she bowed in acquiescence.</p> + +<p>Maggie, who had never once opened her lips, sat glowering at this +English girl with a gaze of hard enmity, endeavouring to impress on her +memory her manner of doing her hair, of moving, speaking and looking. +Yes, she might for all the world be some great lady, and yet she was +nothing but a beggar, on whom her mother had just bestowed a fortune.</p> + +<p>"And now I think we must be going," said Mrs. Gowdy as she rose +stiffly, shook out her gown, and offered a large, black-gloved member, +the fingers of which were at least an inch too long.</p> + +<p>Jean Gowdy was a kind-hearted, motherly soul, and as she held Verona's +hand she squeezed it and said:</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, miss; I know it's an awful come-down for you, and an uprise +for <i>us</i>. You have a lucky face, and I wish you well."</p> + +<p>Maggie merely bestowed a quick nod of condescension, the two men a +couple of admiring stares as they shuffled out of the room in the wake +of their women-folk.</p> + +<p>Exit the Gowdys! Their accession to wealth, their sudden emergence from +obscurity to social prominence, the success of Jock and the marriage of +Maggie would fill a volume, and this history is exclusively concerned +with the affairs and fortunes of another family.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Her clothes and personal possessions—such as music, books (and [last, +but not least] jewels)—were all that the deposed heiress carried +away, when she left London with Mrs. Melville. The entire wardrobe of +the late Madame de Godez was confiscated by her sister-in-law, who +subsequently made a brave display in various gorgeous garments; whilst +Maggie, in a red "creation," by Worth, was a sight for men, and gods! +Oh, the purchaser of these superb confections, little, little dreamt +who was to flaunt in her plumes, and to stand in her shoes!</p> + +<p>Miss Chandos experienced the first effects of her change of +circumstances when she travelled down to Halstead second class, looked +after the luggage and secured seats, whilst her friend took the tickets +and paid the cabman.</p> + +<p>Her reception at the Manor was warm; from the old coachman's "Welcome +back, miss," to the parrot's screech, "Verona, kiss me!" She once more +occupied her own bedroom, in which nothing had been changed since +she quitted it, five years previously, in order to follow her adopted +mother into fashionable life. Here were the same old samplers, the +paintings of Venice and Vesuvius, the dimity curtains in the windows, +the hideous china dogs on the mantelpiece, the well-known writing table +and cosy armchair. There was the same familiar bright outlook on the +garden—and the unfamiliar quiet of the country. It was like returning +into harbour after an extensive cruise, in order to refit for yet +another voyage. She was about to refit and make a fresh departure; to +begin life with her own people; to visit long-desired India!</p> + +<p>The years with Madame de Godez had flashed by in a succession of +splendid scenes, and kaleidoscopic views of strange countries, and +strange faces. Now it all seemed singularly unreal. And when Verona +sat in the bow window of the drawing-room, and watched the brown +pony grazing on the lawn—saw the spaniel chasing his mortal enemy, +the kitchen cat, out of the garden, whilst the jackdaw flapped +applause—it seemed as if she had only been absent a few weeks. Those +glittering scenes at Monte Carlo, and Aix, and Paris, were all so many +dreams—merely dreams! Her old friends and neighbours, the folk in +the village, were delighted to welcome her back among them, the only +change she felt was the absence of Madge—who six months previously had +married an officer and departed to Malta. Verona was thankful that in +her day of prosperity she had had it in her power to delight Madge with +diamonds. Auntie had been generous, and had bestowed on the bride a set +of superb sables.</p> + +<p>Now she could no longer indulge in what had been one of her chief +pleasures—buying gifts. There was her own jewel case; she unlocked +it and exhibited the contents to Mrs. Melville. It contained various +proofs of madame's wealth, and eye for effect. A long chain of pearls, +a variety of rings and bangles, brooches, a watch set in brilliants, +and several ornaments, including a magnificent diamond bow for the hair +or corsage.</p> + +<p>"Well, no, if you take my advice, you will not sell them," counselled +Mrs. Melville. "They are worth a great deal of money, and if you must +part with them, I believe you could get a better price in India; some +native nobleman might purchase the pearls. Of course, dear, if you like +to dispose of them here, and invest the money, do; but I expect you +will only get half of what they are really worth. You say the pearls +cost nine hundred?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and auntie was always begging me to have diamonds, and rubies, +and emeralds, but I always said 'No.' Even as it was I had far too much +jewellery. This diamond and emerald pendant is exquisite—is it not?" +and she held it up to her throat.</p> + +<p>"It is; and I wish, since this represents your entire fortune, you had +accepted madame's offer; for after all you have not such a wonderful +supply!"</p> + +<p>"More than ample—to wear, or to sell—and I will take your advice and +keep them. I—I should like"—here she lowered her voice and coloured a +little—"my mother to have the diamonds."</p> + +<p>And with this generous wish she closed the jewel case.</p> + +<p>Verona had written to her mother immediately after the death of Madame +de Godez. Mr. Middlemass informed her of her address (and he had also +despatched a few lines on his own behalf).</p> + +<p>Her letter said:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Mother</span>,</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you with what intense happiness I write these three +words; for until a month ago I believed I was an orphan. My kind +adopted mother is dead. She died most suddenly of apoplexy, and, +meaning nothing but love and kindness to me, left her will unsigned, +and all she possessed has passed to her husband's next-of-kin—a +family of Scotch farmers. These people dislike me because they +consider that for many years I have enjoyed their uncle's money. +They have taken possession of everything, but intend to defray my +passage out to India, and give me three hundred pounds. I have no +ties in this country, and am longing to go to my own people. Amidst +much trouble and worry, and a great change of circumstances, I have +one indescribable joy, the prospect of soon seeing my father, and +<i>you</i>. Madame de Godez had, until a month ago, kept me entirely in the +dark respecting my birth and parentage. I was her child, and no more +information would she divulge; but not long ago I contrived to break +down her reserve, and she informed me with great reluctance, that you +and my father were alive, and that I had brothers and sisters. More +than this she would not disclose, and never spoke of the subject but +once. I gather that my father is not wealthy, but you will find that I +can adapt myself to circumstances, and I hope to be a useful addition +to the family. I have had an excellent education; I have a strong +constitution and can work hard. I have always wondered why I felt so +drawn towards the East, but <i>now</i> I understand at last. I am staying +with Mrs. Melville at Halstead Manor, where I once lived for nine +years, it was here I was educated and brought up. I would start off at +once, so anxious am I to see you, but Mrs. Melville advises me to wait +for a reply to this letter, and also until the monsoon has broken. She +suggests my leaving England in July. Dearest mother, I am counting the +very days till we meet. You will spare a little love for me, will you +not? I am always picturing you to myself, and I have made up my mind +that you are like someone I know, and who I have always <i>wished</i> were +my mother.</p> + +<p class="ph2">"Ever your most loving and happy daughter,<br> +"<span class="smcap">Verona Chandos</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>It would take (so she had calculated) about five weeks to receive an +answer to this letter, and during these five weeks Verona renewed her +friendship with people and animals: became a delightful deputy daughter +to Mr. and Mrs. Melville, busied herself in making preparations for +her passage, and buying suitable gifts for her unknown relations. It +was near the end of June, when a letter, with an Indian stamp, in an +unknown, somewhat shaky writing, lay beside Verona's plate at breakfast +time. She opened it tremulously. It was written on cheap thin paper, +and at the top was stamped:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p class="ph2">"<span class="smcap">Manora Sugar Factory</span>,<br> +"<span class="smcap">Near Rajahpore</span>.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Verona</span>,</p> + +<p>"I am writing in reply to your letter, to assure you that we shall be +glad to see you, although we have not much to offer, except a welcome. +I fear, after what you have been accustomed to, that you will find our +mode of life an uncomfortable change, but you are young and full of +hope and courage, and everything will be a novelty.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry Madame de Godez is dead, and that she had made no +provision for you. At the same time, we shall all be pleased to +welcome you into what is your real home, and will look for your name +in the passenger list of the steamer leaving London the second week in +August. Write again, and tell us your plans.</p> + +<p class="ph2">"I am, your affectionate father.<br> +"<span class="smcap">Paul Chandos</span>.</p> + +<p>"P.S.—Your mother sends her love."</p> +</div> + +<p>This epistle was a little disappointing to Verona, the echo to her +appeal seemed so faint, but after all it was a letter from her +<i>father</i>. They were all ready to welcome her, and if not so eager +to see her, as she was to see them, she remembered that they were +accustomed to family intercourse—they were many living together—she +alone out in the darkness, looked towards their hearth as the beacon +of her happiness. Verona reflected for a short time, and then decided +to show her father's letter to Mrs. Melville, who for her part found +it both kind and sensible, and said so, greatly to Verona's relief, +and that same day she wrote and engaged her passage by a steamer which +sailed in three weeks' time.</p> + +<p>As she went singing about the garden, culling roses, and accompanied by +the dogs, Mr. Melville—a good grave man, with a spade-shaped beard, +and a taste for archæology—said to his wife—</p> + +<p>"Lucy, I wish we could keep that child with us."</p> + +<p>"So do I. She has always been one of ourselves, almost ever since she +came here, a little decked-out, Frenchified doll, speaking broken +English. But her heart is set upon her own people."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and she knows nothing about them, nor, for that matter, do <i>we</i>."</p> + +<p>"We know that her father is a man of good family—one of the Chandos of +Charne."</p> + +<p>"And the black sheep for all you can tell," interrupted Mr. Melville.</p> + +<p>"Come, don't make the worst of it, Joe!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's bad enough as it is. This girl, brought up with a taste for +everything money can buy, and left without any provision. I call it a +most shameful, abominable business. Verona will never understand shifts +and scraping. She will have to put up with a vile climate, and to adapt +herself to a new life. Now Madge is away, and Robert is at sea, I think +she might remain on as our adopted daughter. She does the flowers for +you, and mends my gloves, and cuts my papers, and plays picquet, and +sends back my books to the London library—we shall not be able to +spare her."</p> + +<p>"My dear Joe, I'm afraid we must, sorely as we want her, and much as I +believe she loves us. Her heart, as I've already assured you, is with +her own people. If we kept her with us, she would be continually pining +to fly away, like a robin in a cage."</p> + +<p>"I sincerely hope her expectations may be realised, but I think it is a +risky experiment, attaching oneself to a hitherto unknown family."</p> + +<p>"She will be an acquisition anywhere, so lively and so sweet tempered, +and entirely unconscious of herself. Her great social success never +made the smallest difference to us; she wrote to me as regularly as +Madge. I believe she had no end of offers of marriage—including one +from a prince!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, I cannot exactly credit <i>that</i>. And anyway, I can assure +you, she will never have a chance of becoming a princess in India. +Joking apart, I'm really anxious about the child. Do you have a good +talk to her, Lucy, and try once more, if she will not accept the bird +in the hand, and remain with us, for the birds in the bush may be of +doubtful plumage."</p> + +<p>"I will see what I can do," assented Mrs. Melville, "but in return for +your half proverb, I will give you a whole one."</p> + +<p>"What may it be?"</p> + +<p>"Far off hills are green."</p> + +<p>Joselyn Melville made no attempt to argue the question further, but +merely resumed the <i>Guardian</i> with a grunt.</p> + +<p>In three weeks' time Mr. and Mrs. Melville accompanied their charge +to Tilbury, and when they saw the <i>Arabia</i> leave her moorings, waved +good-bye to Verona with as much emotion as if she had been their own +child.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</h2> +</div> + + +<p>At four o'clock in the afternoon the chief event of the day, the Bombay +mail, was due at Rajahpore. The railway station was crammed, not merely +with passengers, but idlers and loafers, who attended this train in +order to see the people who were going North, and to gather jokes, +scraps of gossip, and news. Soldiers were present in considerable +force, as well as the local police, and numbers of Eurasians and +natives, all assembled with the harmless object of enjoying a slight +break in the monotony of their existence.</p> + +<p>It was on a platform seething with strange faces, strange costumes and +a strange nationality that Verona Chandos alighted and looked about +her, with a vague, bewildered stare. She glanced hurriedly around in +quest of her father, mother and sisters—her own people. Surely they +were somewhere among this crowd! Her heart beat in rapid jerks as +she noticed a tall lady in grey and a lad, who were peering into the +carriages, evidently in search of friends. Yes—and had discovered +them! This soldierly man in riding kit, with erect figure and alert +eye—no! A young officer in khaki had come forward and carried him +off, and Verona realised with a painful sensation that no one appeared +to be awaiting <i>her</i>. The crowd hustled, and pushed, and clamoured +by—sweetmeat sellers, fruit hawkers shouted their wares, porters +rattled their trucks and excited parties of newly-arrived natives +chattered together like a flock of parrots.</p> + +<p>At last the scene began to clear and her attention was attracted by one +solitary figure—a tall, elderly man, standing aloof in the background. +In spite of a shabby sun hat and a suit of shrivelled white drill he +had the unmistakable appearance of a gentleman. His features were +finely cut, he wore a grizzled moustache, but the face was marked by +that indefinable expression presented by life's failures, and his air +was timid, even apologetic, as if he felt that he was an intruder in +the throng.</p> + +<p>Verona had surprised him looking at her with a quick, furtive glance, +instantly withdrawn. Oh no, the shabby gentleman, with the saddest eyes +she had ever encountered, could not be anything to her, and strangling +the thought at its birth, she turned away to claim her luggage.</p> + +<p>Boxes and belongings, each marked "V. C.," had all been duly collected, +and for this service she was thanking the guard, when, in reply to +his nod of indication, she turned about and found the man from the +background at her elbow.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," he faltered, lifting his hat, and his voice though well +bred was tremulous, "is your name—Chandos?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered quickly, but the colour had left her lips, +"and—and—you are my father!"</p> + +<p>His face grew livid as he murmured "Verona," and for a second he seemed +so overcome with agitation that he was unable to speak. Then he took +her hand—she felt his own tremble—and brushing her cheek with his +wiry moustache, murmured:</p> + +<p>"My child, you are welcome."</p> + +<p>As she looked up into his face she read amazement, incredulity, awe.</p> + +<p>"Oh! am I so very different to what you expected?" she asked with a +little breathless laugh.</p> + +<p>"God knows you are!" was the startling reply. Then, pulling himself +together, he added:</p> + +<p>"I've a man here who will take charge of all your baggage," beckoning +to a Peon with a large brass badge on his sash.</p> + +<p>"The victoria only holds two—so I came alone. Let me carry your wrap +and bag."</p> + +<p>"Is it far to Manora?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"About four miles."</p> + +<p>"Because I am so thirsty. May I have a glass of water?"</p> + +<p>"Water—no!" he rejoined with unexpected decision; "But come along +and have a cup of tea. I ought to have thought of it before; you +must be choked with dust. I've got out of the way of—of——" The +remainder of the sentence was inaudible, as he opened the door into a +lofty, white-washed room, where several men were lounging at a long +refreshment bar.</p> + +<p>Verona received an impression of quantities of bananas and buns; swarms +of flies and staring faces. As she stood sipping some hot weak tea, +from a very thick cup, a dapper little man, with a shiny face and +prominent blue eyes, approached and accosted her father in an off-hand +manner.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, Chandos! I've never seen you here before. What has brought you +out of your shell?" he asked with an air of lofty condescension.</p> + +<p>Mr. Chandos looked momentarily embarrassed, and then replied, rather +formally:</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Major Gale. I came to meet my daughter."</p> + +<p>"<i>Your</i> daughter!" and in the echo there was a note of incredulity, +bordering on derision, but the little officer accepted the half +introduction and bowed profoundly as he said:</p> + +<p>"Charmed to make her acquaintance."</p> + +<p>Verona resented his air of free and easy patronage, and met the +stranger's full, bold gaze, with a pair of cold, unchanging eyes.</p> + +<p>There was a chilling pause, during which the little officer quickly +summed up the new "Spin"; her grand manner, dainty linen costume, +expensive travelling case and ruffled wrap.</p> + +<p>As the result of this inspection he turned abruptly to Mr. Chandos and +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"I say! I'd no idea you'd been married before!"</p> + +<p>Whatever reply was forthcoming it proved unintelligible, for Mr. +Chandos was searching and fumbling in his pockets, and there was a hint +of colour in his worn face as he turned to the waiter and said:</p> + +<p>"I've no money with me. I'll settle with you next time I'm in—you know +who I am!"</p> + +<p>"How much is it? I'll make it all right," volunteered Major Gale.</p> + +<p>"One rupee, Saar," said the turbanned kritmetgar.</p> + +<p>Here Verona interposed, authoritatively:</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much; I will pay for my tea," and promptly produced the +necessary coin.</p> + +<p>"No one carries money in India," explained Major Gale; "we all go on +tick or borrow, as you'll soon find out. Just arrived?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," assented the lady. The "yes" was like a hailstone.</p> + +<p>"From England?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." Another hailstone.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you'll find Manora a bit slow! Eh? We are having our sports +on the twentieth. I hope you all come in. Eh——?"</p> + +<p>Verona set down her cup and glanced interrogatively at her father. She +was anxious to depart.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no use asking <i>him</i>," resumed the other, with a jocular air. "He +buries himself alive. Lots of people don't know of his existence; awful +mistake to cut the Service and take to sugar—eh, Chandos?"</p> + +<p>"It suits me all right," he answered in a quick, troubled voice. Then +as an afterthought:</p> + +<p>"I will give your invitation to my wife, thank you. Now, Verona, if you +are ready?"</p> + +<p>"Quite ready," and with a slight inclination of her head she took leave +of her new acquaintance, and walked out of the refreshment room.</p> + +<p>Mr. Chandos piloted his daughter into a wide space at the back of the +station, where a victoria was in waiting, with a showy bay arab in the +shafts and a man with a gigantic red turban and blue and red coat on +the box. His feet were bare, which struck Verona as peculiar.</p> + +<p>"We can start at once," said her father, handing her in as he spoke; +"Hassan will see to the baggage," and he indicated a long, clumsy +conveyance, drawn by two water buffaloes, into which primitive concern +her boxes were already being hoisted.</p> + +<p>In another moment they were whirled away from the station along a flat, +white road—indeed, the whole country seemed as flat as a billiard +table. They trotted through a narrow bazaar, full of customers, +domestic animals and gaudy little shops; occasionally they were obliged +to pull up until a recumbent cow or goat saw fit to rise and suffer +them to pass. From the bazaar the road led to a steep bridge, and as +they crossed it Mr. Chandos pointed out various objects.</p> + +<p>"There is the city," he said, "this side of the river. Two hundred +thousand inhabitants. Where you see the spire and trees, is the +cantonment. We live farther out in this direction."</p> + +<p>"And have you no neighbours?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, any amount. We are a community of our own. The factory employs +some hundreds of natives, and about thirty English and Eurasians."</p> + +<p>"Eurasian!" she echoed; "Oh, what a pretty name! What <i>is</i> a Eurasian?"</p> + +<p>A spasm of pain seemed to contract her father's face, but he appeared +not to have heard the question. It was evidently his habit to +occasionally ignore or misunderstand what was said to him.</p> + +<p>"Had you a good passage, my dear?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Only pretty good. Hot in the Red Sea and rough off Aden."</p> + +<p>Here several passing coolies salaamed to her father, and he +acknowledged their greeting with a jerk of his hand.</p> + +<p>"What a charming salutation!" she exclaimed; "I like it so much better +than our nodding and scraping."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it's the only thing you <i>will</i> like," he remarked with a +sigh. "Our life will be irksome, I'm afraid. We are real Anglo-Indians, +and have made our home out here."</p> + +<p>"I shall like my home, you may be sure," she declared, "my home and my +people. How long is it since you were in England, father?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-eight years."</p> + +<p>"Oh! almost a lifetime. How is my mother?"</p> + +<p>"As usual."</p> + +<p>"And my sisters—what are their names?"</p> + +<p>"Blanche, Dominga, and Pussy—her real name is Bellamina. Blanche is +married to a young man in the telegraph department. She has a little +boy."</p> + +<p>"My nephew! How delightful."</p> + +<p>Mr. Chandos gave a curious little laugh, and resumed:</p> + +<p>"Pussy is nearly twenty-four; then you come; then Dominga—she is +twenty, and Nicky is seventeen."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I do hope they will all like me," said Verona, as she turned a +beautiful enthusiastic face on the shattered man at her side.</p> + +<p>He glanced at this refined English girl, with her reposeful manners and +air of culture and elegance. It was like gazing through an open window +on some former state of existence, when all the world seemed young +and gay and he had life before him. Well, he was now a grey derelict, +expiating his follies in exile. He found it impossible to realize that +the lovely eager girl at his side was his very own daughter; the little +Verona that twenty years ago they had, much against his will, consigned +to Fernanda Gowdy.</p> + +<p>She had come back again—as what? To curse him—or to bless?</p> + +<p>"Your sisters are not the least like you," he remarked in a harsh, +abrupt voice; "they are uneducated girls—simple and emotional. They +have only seen life from a sugar factory, and their ideas are cramped +and circumscribed; you must make allowances for them. Whatever they +are—I believe they mean well."</p> + +<p>"Of course they do, and you need not ask me to make allowances for my +own sisters. I am only too happy and thankful to think that I shall be +with them always—and my mother."</p> + +<p>As this conversation took place, the carriage was passing along a +winding road, fenced with dusty cactus and an occasional row of acacia +trees, but generally running between high standing crops of dense sugar +cane. The old bay Arab stepped out well, and before long a square, +high tower came into view; then gradually the outline of factory and +bungalows, all thrown into sharp relief by a deep crimson sky. Suddenly +the victoria rolled into a wide shady avenue, lined with thick trees +and bushes, which ultimately widened into a little park, bordered with +a number of picturesque bungalows, each standing apart. At the far end +was a fine imposing abode, with a great verandah and sloping lawns.</p> + +<p>"That is Mr. Lepell's house," explained Mr. Chandos. "He is manager of +the factory."</p> + +<p>"Why, father, I thought you were manager?"</p> + +<p>"I!"—in a tone of ironical scorn. "No; I'm a mere bottle-washer, a +subordinate, and will never be anything else."</p> + +<p>They now dashed by a group of people who were playing tennis with +screams and shoutings; and paused abruptly in their game to stare; and +drove on to a bungalow half-concealed from the road by thick bushes; +the porch and verandah were entirely screened with lattice work.</p> + +<p>As they approached Verona's heart beat fast, and she was aware +of several white figures—which had hitherto been stationed like +outposts—flying within to give notice of her arrival.</p> + +<p>But when the victoria came to a standstill under the porch there was no +one to be seen, and the girl was conscious of her father's long indrawn +breath, as he handed her out and said:</p> + +<p>"I think they are all a little afraid—a little shy, of their English +sister. Come into the house and I will fetch them."</p> + +<p>The drawing-room opened directly into the verandah, and on first +entering it seemed dark; but Verona soon groped her way to a sofa and +sat down to wait, whilst her father departed in order to summon the +family.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</h2> +</div> + + +<p>As Verona waited alone in this dim, unfamiliar room, her heart throbbed +quickly; more than once she caught her breath with an involuntary gasp, +for she realized that she was on the threshold of the most momentous +event of her life; within the next few seconds she would be face to +face with her mother.</p> + +<p>Picture the situation! For twenty years this girl had lived with +strangers, moving among friendly family circles, but belonging to +none; secretly envious of home and blood ties. Although she bestowed +her affections generously, an enormous reserve fund was stored up in +her heart, ready to be lavished on someone near and dear, and someone +near and dear was coming now. As she gazed with eyes grown deep with +longing towards the curtained doors, her feelings were indescribable; +in spite of the close, airless atmosphere, she was icy cold, and her +clammy hands trembled in her lap.</p> + +<p>Half unconsciously she contemplated her surroundings, the imposing +grand piano, blackwood carved furniture, upholstered in red damask, +marble-topped tables, Indian rugs, and three high doors, corresponding +with the French windows. The room resembled a salon in some foreign +hotel; no flowers, photographs or books were to be seen, much less a +cat or dog, a rumpled newspaper, or scrap of work; but there was a +curious unfamiliar odour, a mysterious combination of musk and coffee. +To judge by their bungalow and the smart victoria, her parents were +in easy circumstances—the standard of wealth in the East presumably +differed from that in the West; poverty in England meant luxury in +Manora. It was true that her father's clothes were shabby, but she was +aware that some elderly men despised their personal appearance; and had +not her father administered a shock? A sharp unexpected disappointment? +Angrily she drove away the fact, but like an irritating insect, it +returned with determined persistence.</p> + +<p>He was undoubtedly a gentleman, his features were finely cut, his voice +and manner unimpeachable, but there was a hidden tragedy in those weary +eyes and timid deprecating air. What was the experience which had +crushed all the light out of his face? and why did he look as if he +abode day and night with the giant Despair? Was his haggard expression +merely the result of ill-health, or, in consequence, of the doom of +exile? Then her thoughts sprang back to that central figure—her +mother. Oh, when would she come? What was detaining her?</p> + +<p>Presently Verona became aware of a stealthy hustling and scuffling +outside one of the curtained doors; her relations were evidently in her +immediate vicinity. There was a sound of half-suppressed squeaks, of +giggling and tittering, then a voice, in a well-known accent, cried:</p> + +<p>"Oh, goody me! Pussy, Pussy, come along!"</p> + +<p>Instantly the reply in breathless jerks, like a double knock, "No! no! +no! you go!—you go!"</p> + +<p>And now the drapery over another entrance vibrated—was briskly whisked +aside, and someone came into the room. Verona was so agitated she +could hardly rise, as she saw approaching a little elderly woman, with +a frizzy fringe, eager black eyes, and a girlish figure. She noticed +that she wore a buff-coloured cotton dress with dark spots and a wide +scarlet necktie; and even by the diminishing light the girl discerned +that the stranger was dark; oh, much darker than Prince Tossati—or +even Madame de Godez!</p> + +<p>"Well, Verona, child," she began in a high staccato key as she advanced +and took her hand, "so you have come! My goodness, how tall you are! +You must stoop for me to kiss you."</p> + +<p>Verona paused for a moment, irresolute, wondering who this person might +be? but bent her head as requested, in order to receive a salute.</p> + +<p>"My! you are a great big girl," continued the little woman; "but tall +girls are the fashion—so the papers say!"</p> + +<p>As she noticed that Verona's eyes were still gazing beyond her, and +fixed intently on the door, she cried:</p> + +<p>"Whatt are you doing, child? Why are you staring so?"</p> + +<p>"I am expecting my mother; is she coming soon?" she faltered, in a low +tone.</p> + +<p>"Soon," repeated the little dark woman, with a scream of hysterical +laughter, "why, she is here, child! Don't you know that <i>I</i> am your +mother? Whatt a funny girl! My! whatt a joke!"</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i>," stammered Verona, in a faint voice; the room was whirling +round, as she hastily put out her hand to support herself by the table.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course, and who else?" demanded Mrs. Chandos, in a sharp +challenging key. "You are astonished because I am so small; I am +astonished because you are so big, so we are quits. No?"</p> + +<p>Verona could not speak; she felt as if a rock had fallen upon her heart +and was seized by a choking sensation that threatened to strangle her. +It was the crucial moment of her life. A thunderbolt had shattered her +personality; her very identity seemed dissolved, who was she? What was +she? Vainly she struggled to realize that she was the daughter of this +half-caste woman! Yes, she, with all her delicate fastidiousness, her +uncontrollable antipathy to black blood—her invincible pride of race.</p> + +<p>Poor old Madame was indeed prophetic, when she had talked of +"punishment." What a sentence! It was worse than death.</p> + +<p>Fortunately the light was dim, the sudden Indian twilight had invaded +the room, for Verona's face was fixed and frozen in an ecstasy of +horror.</p> + +<p>"You don't seem to have much to say for yourself," began Mrs. Chandos, +in a querulous, complaining tone, but before she had completed the +sentence her husband entered, closely followed by two young women, and +a slouching youth in a gaudy red blazer.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you and your mother have met," he observed in an unnatural muffled +voice. "So you have seen her?"</p> + +<p>"Who could see anyone in this light?" cried his wife. "Here is the +lamp," as a bearded servant entered, carrying a large argand, which he +placed on the table.</p> + +<p>"Now I'm going to have a good look at Verona," announced Mrs. Chandos, +as she seized the girl's wrist in a fierce claw-like clutch—her tiny +hand resembled the paw of a marmoset—and led her nearer to the light. +The scrutiny proved to be critical, it was more—it was cruel; the +hard, eager eyes that stared into hers, were keen as sword points, and +the unhappy girl realized that no love lay within that searching gaze.</p> + +<p>Releasing her daughter with a little contemptuous push, Mrs. Chandos +turned to her husband, and said, "She's like no one I've ever seen; I +suppose <i>you</i> think Verona takes after your family," and she laughed, +as if this idea embodied an excellent joke.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I believe she does," admitted Mr. Chandos, as he glanced at the +white, set face with a look of anxious deprecation.</p> + +<p>"Well, now we must introduce Verona to her sisters and brother," +pursued his wife; "this is Dominga," as she led forward a tall, slim +girl of twenty, with a bleached complexion and masses of splendid red +hair; her eyes were long and narrow, her nose delicately cut, her lips +were full; as she pressed them on Verona's cheek they were dry and +burning like two coals.</p> + +<p>"And here is Pussy; her real name is Bellamina." Pussy, who was shy, +approached wriggling and giggling. She was dark and plump, but had a +sweet good-tempered face, and her eyes were magnificent. She looked up +timidly at her pale English sister, and in another second Pussy had +flung her arms around her neck and given her her first really cordial +embrace.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my goodness, Verona!" she gasped, "you are a beautee, just like a +picture. I shall love you, I know."</p> + +<p>"And here is Nicky," continued Mrs. Chandos, dragging up a reluctant +youth, with his long lank wrists bare of cuff, his wiry hair on end, +his sunken eyes twinkling and mischievous. Nicky grinned from ear to +ear, but made no attempt to salute his relative.</p> + +<p>"So now you have seen them all except Blanche, and she will come +to-morrow," said Mrs. Chandos. "Oh, my! how funny it is, to have one +great big, new daughter, just like a stranger, is it not, Verona?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she acquiesced, mechanically, scarcely aware that she had +spoken. Was this scene really happening, or was it not some hideous +dream?</p> + +<p>"If old Fernanda had not been so weecked we should never have seen +you at all. No?" Mrs. Chandos concluded most of her sentences with a +staccato-like note of negation.</p> + +<p>"Which would have been our misfortune," supplemented Mr. Chandos, with +unexpected force. "We are all glad to claim Verona."</p> + +<p>As he spoke his eyes rested on this mute newcomer with a look of +melancholy pride. Here was the only one among his children who was +a true Chandos in bearing and breeding; the little fledgling who, +twenty years previously, had, despite his remonstrances, been thrust +out of the nest. What a difference her companionship would have made +to him!—an ever present reminder of his home and youth. Would she be +a comfort to him now? or would she hate and despise him (he cringed +mentally at the thought) for having given her such a mother?</p> + +<p>"And now you have seen us all, what do you think of us?" demanded Mrs. +Chandos.</p> + +<p>Verona was still too stunned to speak; her sole reply was a sickly +smile.</p> + +<p>"You know all about Blanche."</p> + +<p>"And she doesn't count now she's married," protested Dominga; "she made +such a bad match; he is only in the telegraph at one hundred and twenty +rupees a month. Oh, she was a mad girl!"</p> + +<p>"Come, I wonder what you think of us," reiterated her mother, who +seemed determined to extract some reply to her question. "My! how white +you look! You are tired; better have some tea, it is arl ready."</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," faltered Verona, "I had some at the station."</p> + +<p>"Whatt," wheeling sharply on her husband, "thatt was just waste, and +must have cost one rupee; but you always have these grand lord ways +when you are alone, and you forget your big family and small pay. No?"</p> + +<p>Verona listened, mentally benumbed; her eyes seemed too large for her +face; she looked white and worn, and years older than the girl who so +eagerly alighted at Rajahpore an hour previously; but of all the gazing +group, the wretched girl's father alone comprehended her sensations; +his heart ached for her cruel disillusion. He had intended to drop a +word, a little, little hint on their way home—but cowardice had laid +her finger on his lips!</p> + +<p>"I am sure your sister is tired," he said, glancing hurriedly at Pussy +as he spoke; he dared not meet Verona's eyes, tragic with misery and +pain. "Take her away, like a good girl, and show her her room." Oh, +thrice, thrice blessed escape! Pussy, the ever impulsive, instantly +flung her arm round Verona's waist, while Dominga held aside the +purdah, and the three sisters passed forth.</p> + +<p>"Of course, it is all strange to you at first," began Dominga, leading +the way with a swaggering gait and the heavy trail of some sickly +perfume, "but you will soon seem like one of the family, you will see, +and just as if you had lived here arl-ways."</p> + +<p>What a prospect!</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The apartment into which Verona was formally conducted proved large and +airy—somewhat of the barn-like type.</p> + +<p>"And you're to have it to yourself!" announced Dominga, with an +impressive gesture. "Father made an awful fuss, and had it newly +matted, and white-washed, and see! it opens on the back verandah." As +she spoke she unfastened a glass door and admitted a splendid Eastern +moon, which illuminated the whole country and displayed a wide river +within a few yards of the bungalow. The room was furnished in simple +Indian style; a small cot, large wardrobe and bare dressing-table, +on which stood a bowl of exquisite roses. Dominga indicated with +increased complacency a rickety little Davenport. "Father had it put +in; he said English ladies write letters in their bedrooms."</p> + +<p>"It was very thoughtful of him," murmured Verona, and oh, how devoutly +she wished that these two girls would go away and leave her to herself. +But no! having been cut off from her society for so many years, her +sisters were anxious—not to say determined—to enjoy it now. They +fidgetted round the dressing-table, talking incessantly and together, +devouring her all the time with their eyes. "My! what wonderful hair +you have!" cried Pussy, when Verona removed her hat, "and every bit as +much as Dominga. Just look, Dom."</p> + +<p>Dominga nodded acquiescence as she stroked it with a patronising touch, +and declared:</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes—it <i>is</i> theek." Then she glanced into the mirror, which +was large, and portrayed two faces—nay, three—for Pussy now leant +forward, and added herself to the group.</p> + +<p>Verona, in the middle, was the tallest of the trio; her two Eurasian +sisters beamed triumphantly on her reflection and their own.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, no, no; we are not one bit a—like!" announced Pussy with a +giggle, "who would suppose we were relations?"</p> + +<p>"But she has a great look of <i>me</i>," proclaimed Dominga; "her hair grows +in the same way, her nose is the same shape. We must certainly dress +alike! although I am so fair and you," glancing at Verona, "are so very +dark. What do you say?"</p> + +<p>Verona nodded assent; she could not have uttered a word were it to save +her life.</p> + +<p>Her sister's remark enforced a terrible and tragic truth—she <i>was</i> +very dark. On the other hand, Dominga was more of a Chandos than a +Lopez, and her appearance was not altogether out of keeping with a +long line of patrician ancestors. Her head was small and well set on, +and her air was distinctly imperious. Besides these advantages she +had magnificent hair, and a thin delicate profile. A tinge of colour +in her cheeks and lips would have transformed Dominga into a beauty; +unfortunately her skin was as white and dead as any sunbleached bone.</p> + +<p>As she stood gazing into the glass the mirror reflected three faces, +and of the trio, her own, in Dominga's opinion, was infinitely the +fairest. It was possibly the most uncommon: being instinct with a +peculiar fiery vitality. A striking—but scarcely what is called "a +good face"—the jaw was a little square, the lips were a little cruel, +the brilliant grey-green eyes were a little hard, a countenance that +could look animated, alluring, impassioned, or implacable, reckless +and grim. Like many red-haired women Dominga generally wore green—it +was her favourite, and she believed, most flattering colour. On the +present occasion her white cambric gown was enlivened by a vivid shade +of emerald in belt and tie, and she surveyed her reflection with +affectionate complacency as she remarked:</p> + +<p>"Still, I daresay the same colours will suit us—we are both so pale! I +am longing to see your dresses. Now I wonder if your boxes have come? +I'll just go and ask if there's any sign of that bandy?" and with +obliging alacrity the fair Miss Chandos quitted the room.</p> + +<p>"Dominga is mother's favourite," announced Pussy. "Mother is awfullee +proud of her hair and her dead-white skin and her figure. She is sure +to be fond of you too; you are <i>so</i> pretty. But when she first heard +you were coming—my! but she was mad! She said she would not have you, +and she would not write. You see," and Pussy's soft dark eyes became +apologetic, "we are so many girls, and Blanche was, oh, such a trouble! +I'm afraid"—stopping short—"you have a headache. You look so seedy."</p> + +<p>"Yes," assented Verona, "I have a dreadful headache."</p> + +<p>"It is the horrid train; you will be better after dinner, I know. I +will go and hurry it."</p> + +<p>What a relief, if only for a moment, to get that ceaseless chatter +out of her ears! To have a little breathing space in which to realize +her position! Verona was conscious of a sick buzzing in her brain as +she sat down, closed her eyes tightly, and endeavoured to collect her +thoughts, and lay hold of her self-possession. Truly, she had found her +own people; she was one of them now—always and for ever! No wonder +she had felt drawn to the East, since its blood ran in her veins! Her +outlook on life must be entirely re-focussed; her former aims and +illusions lay shattered around her. The unhappy girl sat there, as it +were, among the very ruins of her hopes. But solitude and meditation +were luxuries far too valuable to be enjoyed for any length of time. +A loud thumping on the door aroused Verona from a sort of stupor, and +a voice called: "Rona, Rona, dinner! Come a—long!" Outside in the +passage Pussy was waiting in ambush, and when her sister appeared, +literally fell upon her, and led her triumphantly into the dining-room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chandos was already seated at table, soup ladle in hand. She +had made no change in her dress, but her husband—who hurried in +with a muttered apology—wore a white open coat, white shirt and +red silk cummerbund, the lingering instinct of the English officer +and gentleman. A yellow shaded lamp in the middle of the table was +supported by two dishes, one of custard apples and the other of butter +cakes. The meal itself was solid and plentiful, and consisted of river +fish, baked kid, curry, and cocoanut pudding. Most of the menu was +absolutely new to Verona, but although she had not tasted food for +hours she was unable to eat; her throat felt constricted and her head +burned. Mrs. Chandos viewed such a poor appetite as a direct personal +grievance, and—despite her daughter's almost tearful protestations, +hinted at "airs" and "pride." The other young people ate heartily, not +to say gluttonously, and devoured the hot curry and butter cakes with +a relish that was amazing. Beyond a little wrangling among themselves +(Verona caught such expressions as "You get out!" "You don't talk to +me like thatt!"), they contributed nothing to the general conversation. +The head of the house wore the rigid look of a mask and scarcely +opened his lips; he was far more taciturn than during the drive from +the station, but his wife made ample compensation for all deficiencies +by continually scolding the servants and plying Verona with sharp +questions—questions respecting money, accomplishments, acquaintances! +questions resembling a series of darts shot by a sure hand. She could +scarcely trust herself to speak of the Gowdys; when she touched on the +subject her voice became shrill and hysterical. Mrs. Chandos appeared +to be bitterly disappointed that her daughter had no acquaintances in +the regiment at Rajahpore—or, indeed, as far as she knew—in India, +and she had made no "nice friends" on board ship.</p> + +<p>"But whatt is the use of the P. & O., but for making useful friends?" +argued Mrs. Chandos; "you might as well have come out in a cheap line. +The Finlays, of the railway, came out in the <i>Peninsula</i> with people +who asked Tilly up to Simla. Of course, they did not hear that old +Finlay was once a platelayer, but Lizzie Finlay is a clever girl; +oh, she is a sharp one! No? Now, boy, whatt are you about?"—turning +fiercely on a servant who had upset some gravy—"whatt a stupid pig you +are! Yes! you did see! Whatt do you go telling lies for? Look at the +cloth! When first we were married"—addressing Verona—"Mr. Chandos was +so particular he would always have two clean tablecloths a day, and now +we have two a week; it is all habit! He has got used to things, and to +being poor and a nobody."</p> + +<p>"But father may have a great fortune some day," proclaimed Dominga, in +a loud, exultant key, and as she spoke she planted both elbows firmly +on the table.</p> + +<p>"You don't know what you are talking about!" muttered Mr. Chandos into +his moustache; "I have never said so."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but he may! A beautiful place in England; Mr. Chandos always goes +on like that; we don't mind him," declared his wife with a toss of her +head.</p> + +<p>"And then you will see where <i>we</i> come in!" resumed Dominga; "you will +see what carriages and clothes we will have. Oh, there will be no more +of this dirty sugar work then!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, but 'Delhi is still a long way off,'" quoted Pussy, with a sly +laugh.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you choop! do," cried her sister; "you shut up; you are as bad as +Nani with your native proverbs. We must take Rona into Rajahpore. Goody +me, how the people will stare! They don't know of our new sister."</p> + +<p>"I say, I wonder what they will call <i>her</i>?" growled Nicky, speaking +with his mouth full of custard apple, and staring reflectively at the +recent arrival. "Dom," indicating his sister with a spoon, "is called +'Red Chandos'; Pussy is 'Black Chandos,' father is 'Old Chandos,' I am +'Inky Chandos,' and mother——"</p> + +<p>"Now you be quiett!" shrieked his mother, "telling such stories! For +shame of you!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'd like to know what they call mother?" demanded Dominga, with +the face of a fury.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you thatt when we're by ourselves," he answered with a +wink. Nicky had a way of investing his insolence with a surprisingly +matter-of-fact air.</p> + +<p>"Verona, you will make quite a stir, I think," interposed Pussy; +"you look so ladylike, and hold your head so high; you are far more +genteel than Mrs. Captain Tully or Mrs. Major Barrwell, who won't know +<i>us</i>: none of the officers' wives ever call here, although they go to +Lepell's, and yet father was an army man, and in the cavalry, too."</p> + +<p>"See, now I have an idea," announced Mrs. Chandos suddenly, as if +struck with an inspiration; "since last comers call first, why should +not Verona make a round of the cantonment? It is quite etiquette, and I +can wait outside in the victoria, and then we shall have all the nice +people coming out here instead of railway and contractors, and such +like trash."</p> + +<p>"The army people will never come out here," declared Dominga, "no, not +even for Rona; they are a nasty, sneering, low, stuck-up lot, and I +hate them."</p> + +<p>"Only the women," corrected Nicky, who had finished his meal, and now +felt at leisure to converse. "You don't hate the officers. Oh, ho! Dom, +you like them! You are awfully keen to go into tennis and badminton and +bands and church. Dom,"—addressing himself especially to Verona—"has +had no end of cases! She is a tremendous flirt; she even tried her hand +on Salwey, but he didn't seem to see it—did he, Dom?"</p> + +<p>"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." There must have been some +tiny grain of truth in Nicky's rude chaff, for the face Dominga turned +on him was fiendish in its expression.</p> + +<p>"Will you choop? Will you be quiett?" she screamed, half-rising from +her chair, her voice choked with rage.</p> + +<p>"Now, do not tease your sister, for I will not have it," remonstrated +Mrs. Chandos. "Verona does not know that no one minds one single word +of what Nicky says. Oh, he is a shocking liar!"</p> + +<p>During the above altercation Mrs. Chandos had been studying her pale +English-bred daughter, and had arrived at the conclusion that she was +either, like the officers' wives, "stuck-up," or else a dumb, inanimate +fool.</p> + +<p>"I see you have no tongue," she remarked, "and so"—with a withering +glance at her husband—"you are like him. Oh, you will be just to his +taste—a <i>real</i> Chandos!"</p> + +<p>"I am a little tired to-night," replied the unhappy girl, in a faint, +apologetic key, and tears were very near her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is not so very tiring, sitting in the train," retorted Mrs. +Chandos, and her expression was not agreeable as she pushed back her +chair with a jerk, and rose from the table.</p> + +<p>Dinner had now concluded; of the butter cakes or custard apples not a +vestige remained. Her father had retired to smoke on the verandah; her +sisters were just about to seize upon Verona, and drag her away, when +her mother interposed, saying:</p> + +<p>"No! no! no! do let a—lone! Verona is coming with me. She has yet to +see her grandmother."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Was there a lower depth than she had touched? Her grandmother! Verona +heard the word with dismay. Had she not yet reached the bottom of +the abyss? Once upon a time she could claim no relations, but now +their number was seemingly legion. With this thought in her mind, she +followed with a beating heart and instinctive reluctance her mother, +who, beckoning with the quick, supple motion peculiar to her class, +led the way across a passage and verandah and down some steps at the +rear of the house. Here, facing them, was a large square building +or bungalow, its high roof thrown into sharp relief by the white +moonlight. Mrs. Chandos paused for a moment and explained:</p> + +<p>"Our house was once the manager's; that was before the Mutiny year, but +it was not grand enough for the Lepells, so we got their leavings, and +it suits us, being large. This," pointing to the building, "was the +Dufta in old days. Of course, you don't know Hindustani? 'Dufta' means +office. Your grandmother prefers it to the house."</p> + +<p>As she concluded she had pushed open a door, and Verona found herself +in a low bedroom, lit by a flaring wall-lamp and reeking with heat and +oil. Two women were engrossed in a game of cards—(oh, such greasy +black cards!)—a little grey-haired ayah, who squatted upon the floor, +and a fat old person, who was seated in a battered cane-chair; She had +a large, brown, good-humoured face, from which her reddish hair was +tightly drawn back and fastened in a knob. Her features were small +and well formed, but disfigured by several dark warts; that on her +left eyebrow, taken in connection with one on her upper lip, gave a +comical, interrogative expression to her otherwise placid countenance. +She wore a turkey-red petticoat, a Kurta—the short-sleeved jacket +affected by native women; over her shoulders and bare, wrinkled arms +was thrown a strip of embroidered muslin; heavy gold ear-rings and a +massive necklace completed the costume of Mistress Baptista Lopez. +"Aré, so this is the girl," she exclaimed, as she put down her cards +and extended a dumpy hand. For a moment she stared at the visitor in +expressive silence, then turned to her daughter with a wheezy laugh, +and said, "Aré, Bapré Bap! Now who would think she was my grandchild?" +(Who, indeed!)</p> + +<p>Her little black eyes considered every item of Verona's appearance, +from the crown of her dark head to the tip of her neat shoe.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of her, Nani?"—(Hindustani for grandmother.)</p> + +<p>"She looks like a Burra Miss-Sahib; and is awfully handsome. Soon, +soon, she will be married, and you will be glad of that!"</p> + +<p>As Mistress Lopez uttered this prophecy she again looked up at her +daughter and laughed. Her laugh resembled the sound emitted by a pair +of broken bellows.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure <i>I</i> wonder she was not married long ago!" rejoined Mrs. +Chandos in an aggrieved tone.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but Fernanda would not let her," explained the old woman. "I +know her ways! And so you lived with Fernanda Gowdy for years," now +addressing herself to the girl. "She and I were cronies together at +the Kidderpore school; the Kidderpore was such a big place, and stood +in a great park, and now and then the lady in charge gave a great ball +to the officers and people. Anyone could choose a bride. Fernanda was +a beauty, my! such a figure! You might blow her away! That Scotchman +only saw her twice before he made an offer of marriage. She was just +sixteen. I was married at eighteen. My! my! my! whatt a long time a-go; +and Fernanda is dead! Did you like her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Verona, "she was good to me always. I was very fond of +her."</p> + +<p>"But left you no money, no-a—not one pice. Eete was too bad! Aré, it +was a shame! Yet she never was a mean girl!"</p> + +<p>"She intended to provide for me, and she gave me a first-rate +education."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that is so; and you have learnt to speak and look like some big +swell. Oh, oh, yes! you are a beautee; you will cut out Dominga."</p> + +<p>At this point Mrs. Chandos brusquely interposed, speaking in +Hindustani, and mother and daughter had a loud altercation, which +lasted for some minutes.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, well! let a-lone, let a-lone!" exclaimed the old woman, +who had evidently had the worst of the argument.</p> + +<p>"Verona, child, I hope you may be lucky. Some day I must try your +fortune in the crystal; this is not a good day, it is the twenty-fifth."</p> + +<p>"Your Nani is taken up with signs, and tokens, and cards, and spells," +grumbled Mrs. Chandos, "just like any old bazaar woman. Oh, you will be +surprised at her ways!"</p> + +<p>"I hope she will get used to all our ways, for some of them are funny," +rejoined Mrs. Lopez good-humouredly, and she nodded her head till her +three chins shook again.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you will, miss, oh, so many fine things; but there is no other +home for you, and you cannot live in the river, and be at enmity with +the crocodile!"</p> + +<p>Verona stared at the speaker with an expression of complete +bewilderment.</p> + +<p>"Pah! it is only one of mother's silly proverbs," explained Mrs. +Chandos; "here, sit down," pushing a cane stool towards her. Her +daughter gladly accepted the morah, and while her two relatives once +more discussed her in voluble Hindustani, her eyes wandered languidly +around the room.</p> + +<p>The floor was covered with soiled matting and one handsome Persian +rug. The walls were ornamented with gaudy-coloured prints; in a +corner was a low charpoy, or bed, with red-lacquered legs and heaped +high with pillows; a press, an ancient bureau, a card-table, and a +cooking-stove completed the furniture. Nani's shoes, which were small, +an umbrella, which was large, occupied a prominent position; a dress +on a peg still retained the voluminous outline of her figure: there +were also her domestic pets. In a rude tin cage on the bureau dozed, +as Verona subsequently discovered, a peculiarly rude green parrot. The +empty fire-place, instead of exhibiting the usual paper frills, made +a comfortable cot for a huge black cat. In an angle beyond the press +lay some larger animal, and Verona received a distinct shock when she +discovered that the object of her curiosity was a full-sized goat.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" cried Mrs. Lopez, as she caught her eyes. "The go-at! But she is +so tame—tame as the cat; I keep her for my coffee; I make it myself +fresh, fresh every three days, and see it roasted and ground—just +what fills three bottles. Oh, it is awfully good! You shall have some +to-morrow, when I will tell your fortune."</p> + +<p>"And your Nani will stuff your head with nonsense and proverbs," said +Mrs. Chandos.</p> + +<p>"No-a, indeed! they all feete," protested her mother. "Verona is +sensible, thatt I can see, and now she is in her father's house she +will be content, and will stretch her feet to the length of the sheet. +Won't you, child?"</p> + +<p>"I am not looking for riches and luxuries, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Yes. But hitherto you have had five fingers in the ghee. You do not +know what it is to be poor."</p> + +<p>As this was true Verona remained silent.</p> + +<p>"And you are so handsome!" resumed the old woman. "You will be +arl-right, I see it in your face. You will be lucky. You know the +saying, 'Who eats sugar, will <i>get</i> sugar.'"</p> + +<p>Then turning sharply to her daughter, she said:—"Rosie, this girl is +not like any one of you, no! she is different to all. It is another +<i>face</i>!"</p> + +<p>"And how do you account for it, Nani?" inquired Mrs. Chandos, with a +sneering smile.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is quite plain! Oh, thatt is easily done!" rejoined Mrs. Lopez +with delighted alacrity. "She takes after my mother. Yes; she must +inherit from her; for, although she was only a Temple girl who danced +before the gods—a Naikin from Goa, where my father first saw her—yet +she was celebrated as the most beautiful woman on the whole West coast!"</p> + +<p>"And you think Verona beautiful, and like her?" cried her daughter, +bursting into a peal of derisive laughter. "Whatt a joke! Well, Nani, +you <i>must</i> be blind! She is well enough, but no beauty."</p> + +<p>"Pah! pah! pah! you are no judge, Rosa! You have only eyes for that red +cat of yours; and I tell you this child," and she pointed to Verona, +"has a face that will make her fortune; it may be, arl your fortunes."</p> + +<p>"And that reminds me of the money," said Mrs. Chandos, with a sudden +start—"the three hundred pounds fortune. Did you bring it in +sovereigns, Verona, as we wished?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is all in my dressing bag."</p> + +<p>"Ayah, ayahjee!" and Mrs. Chandos went screaming to the door. "Go, +fetch the Missy's big leather bag, and bring it here, quick, quick! +quick! Or, wait! I go myself," and she darted into the moonlight.</p> + +<p>"She is wonderful, your mother," remarked the old woman; "so sharp +about money! Such a manager! Great show outside, and pinching in the +belly; but she will have it thus, since there are so many to feed, and +young girls to marry. Her wishes are high."</p> + +<p>"Yes," assented her daughter mechanically.</p> + +<p>"Arl-day she works so hard in the office next door, doing figures and +accounts. She owns a few little houses in the bazaar, and adds on to +the pay. It is not much, two hundred a month."</p> + +<p>"Pounds?" suggested her companion.</p> + +<p>"No! rupees—that is to say, shillings. But she is a manager."</p> + +<p>"Well, here it is," panted Mrs. Chandos, pushing open the door with her +foot, and entering bag in hand; "now let us see the money."</p> + +<p>As Verona hastened to produce her keys, and proceeded to unlock the +bag, Mrs. Chandos continued:</p> + +<p>"I will invest it for you, child; it will bring in good interest; +as much as one hundred and fifty rupees a year, which will buy you +clothes."</p> + +<p>"No, no! it is all for you and father," protested the girl. "I only +wish it were more! I really do not want it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is what I said," agreed Mrs. Chandos, with astonishing +animation; "but your father does not agree; it is your little dowry, +he says, and is to be put by for your use alone. He will not touch one +pice. Sometimes he can be as obstinate as a rock, and I have given him +a promise not to accept one rupee from you. No! even should you offer +it on your knees!"</p> + +<p>While she was speaking Verona had unearthed a green silk bag, which she +was now about to place upon the table, but Mrs. Chandos seized it from +her, drew the string and emptied out the gold into one shining mass. +How her eyes glittered and her cheeks blazed as she bathed her hands in +the sovereigns, and let them dribble through her claw-like fingers. She +appeared completely transformed, her complexion glowed, the hard lines +on her face relaxed into smiles.</p> + +<p>Verona, as she stared in wonderment, no longer disbelieved the tale +that her mother had once been a beauty. How strange that the mere +sight of gold should thus transfigure her countenance—for a second it +was illumined with the colour and sparkle of her long lost youth. At +this moment there was a sudden sound of crushed gravel without: the +door was opened unceremoniously, and a tall, obese old man stood on +the threshold. Verona's heart failed her as she beheld him, and asked +herself the desperate question if here was yet another relation?</p> + +<p>This time a pure native.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The visitor wore a long, blue cloth coat, belted with leather, a huge +white turban and a venerable white beard. His air and expression of +benevolent dignity recalled to Verona the pictures of the prophet +Abraham.</p> + +<p>"Why, it is Abdul Buk!" exclaimed Mrs. Chandos. "Abdul, what a man you +are! I believe," laying her hand over the gold in front of her, "you +smell money."</p> + +<p>"Nay!" and he salaamed as he spoke; "I have come hither on a little +business; I know nought of smell, but the sight of money is ever good." +He grinned broadly at his own pleasantry and displayed several yellow +stumps.</p> + +<p>"Behold my new grandchild, Abdul," cried Mrs. Lopez, indicating Verona +with flattering complacency; "is she not well grown?"</p> + +<p>Once more he salaamed, and the girl slightly bent her head in +acknowledgment of the salute.</p> + +<p>"He manages your mother's little property," continued the old woman, +"and has doubled her income. Oh, he is very clever!"</p> + +<p>"I hope he will double this gold," said Mrs. Chandos, piling it up into +neat rows. "See, Abdul, three hundred English sovereigns; it belongs to +my daughter; it is her fortune," and as she spoke she filled both hands +with the coin and held them towards him with a playful air. "Don't you +wish it was all yours?"</p> + +<p>"Money, in a woman's hands, won't last; a child, left in the hands of a +man, won't live," quoted Mrs. Lopez with impressive solemnity.</p> + +<p>"But Abdul will invest it for Verona, and get her good interest—won't +you, Abdul?" said Mrs. Chandos; "say one hundred and fifty rupees a +year." As she spoke she turned towards him, and their eyes met in one +long, fixed look.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yess; certainly," he answered, "I can promise thatt. Oh, yess."</p> + +<p>"Then you will invest in sugar?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yess."</p> + +<p>"Had you better take it now, or another time?"</p> + +<p>"No time like the present," he replied; "delays are dangerous. See," +to Mrs. Lopez, "I have the English proverbs at my fingers' ends. My +carriage is here, and I will take the money. In this big house it is +not safe."</p> + +<p>"That is true," acquiesced Nani. Meanwhile Mrs. Chandos, who seemed to +be feverishly excited, gathered up the sovereigns with hot, tremulous +fingers, and returned them into the green silk bag, which she handed to +Abdul with a nod of mysterious significance.</p> + +<p>"Of course, he will give a receipt," said Mrs. Lopez in a sharp +business-like voice; "better take receipt."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yess; I will go into the office and write it, and Mrs. Chandos +will lend me one stamp," and he tramped out with ponderous creaking +footfall. Whilst Abdul was absent the crocodile travelling case +attracted Mrs. Lopez' curiosity, and she requested an immediate +introduction to its further contents. One by one these were gradually +presented, a tiny gold watch and jewelled chain, a case of valuable +rings. As each was exhibited Mrs. Lopez and her daughter joined in a +harmonious duet of "Oh, mys!" But a turquoise and diamond necklace, +and a splendid emerald pendant, set in brilliants, reduced them to +a condition of gasping silence. Subsequent silver-mounted brushes, +mirrors and bottles and even a gold shoe-horn appeared in comparison +but very small deer. Had that gambling old card-table, imported in +the early days of John Company, ever exhibited as much money's worth? +The ayah had crept in stealthily; so had Pussy. Were they drawn by +some inexplicable instinct, or by the mere, careless chance of pure +coincidence? Abdul, too, had returned, paper in hand, and stood silent +in the background, admiring, and possibly appraising, the jewels. +What a scene for an artist! The hot, squalid room, the dark faces, +the staring, greedy eyes; in the midst the little old table loaded +with jewels, and the pale, indifferent English girl to whom they all +belonged.</p> + +<p>"What think you of these, Abdul?" demanded Mrs. Chandos, pointing with +a tremulous finger.</p> + +<p>"That," advancing two steps, with creaking boots, "the wife of the +Viceroy hath no better."</p> + +<p>"And their value?" she asked, sharply.</p> + +<p>"Nay, I am ignorant. I deal in sugar cane and gram, not precious +stones. It were wise to put them in some place of safety, and here is +the receipt for the money," he continued, holding out a sheet of paper +on which was inscribed: "Manora, September fifth. Received, to place at +good, safe interest, as I may find occasion, the sum of three hundred +sovereigns, English money, from Miss Verona Chandos, the interest to be +paid every six months into her hands by me, <span class="smcap">Abdul Hamid Buk</span>."</p> + +<p>"There! that is all right and stamped," he said, "and now I will take +the gold and depart. I would advise the Missy Sahib to be mindful of +her jewels."</p> + +<p>"Thank God the money will be out of the house!" said Mrs. Lopez, +piously; "this, as is well known, is an awful district for robbery and +murder."</p> + +<p>"Only among natives," corrected Mrs. Chandos, with a fearless toss of +her head.</p> + +<p>"It has a very bad name," argued her mother, "that you know, and that +is why Salwey is in charge of the police; truly the last man was an old +woman."</p> + +<p>"And this one is a young devil!" cried her daughter with startling +vehemence.</p> + +<p>"Come to the office once more, Abdul. I want a word with you about my +rents," said Mrs. Chandos.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," he replied, and, money in hand, and having executed a +general salaam, the benignant patriarch tramped out of the room in the +wake of his employer. Pussy assisted her sister to collect and put away +the jewellery, uttering, as she did so, many flattering adjectives.</p> + +<p>"Now you must go to bed, children," announced their grandmother; +"it is after nine o'clock. The travelling girl is dead tired," and +at last Verona escaped to her own quarters, kind Pussy carrying the +dressing-bag, and affectionately anxious to help her to undress, and, +above all, to brush her hair. Her good offices were set aside with the +greatest difficulty. Being naturally a little dense, it never dawned +upon Bellamina Chandos that her sister did not require assistance, or +would prefer her own company.</p> + +<p>At last her simple mind accepted the novel idea, and her entreaties +ceased.</p> + +<p>"Dom," she whispered, as she embraced her, "is not quite sure; but <i>I</i> +know—that I shall love you."</p> + +<p>With one vigorous hug she vanished, and Verona was left alone.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>As soon as she had closed and carefully bolted the door on Pussy's +pretty entreating face, Verona turned down the smoky lamp and sat for a +considerable time in the dark, alone with her own thoughts. Presently +these thoughts became so terrible—so unbearably painful, like some +intense physical agony, that she rose, unfastened the window and +wandered into the verandah and down a path by the bank of the river. +The river was wide and swift, being swollen by the recent rains; on the +further side it was bordered by a high jungle of reeds and rushes, and +beyond it, as seen through a filmy veil of gauze, lay the spreading +moonlit plain which seemed to stretch away into the infinite, which +was also India! Behind rose the bungalow, large and straggling: on the +left towered the factory; to the right lay the office, with the light +still burning in the window. Verona noticed these details as she paced +the pathway, flitting to and fro like some distracted spirit on the +banks of the Styx; and was she not a creature suddenly transported +to an unknown world? She was no longer Verona Chandos, who had fared +delicately all her life, who had a carefully cultivated taste in +music and literature, definite ideas respecting bindings and coloured +prints, who collected book plates, was discriminating in her choice +of associates, dainty in her tastes, a much-desired partner for golf, +bridge or cotillon, a girl who had found her world a pleasant place +to live in, and had tried to share with others some of the sunshine +which had fallen to her lot. And she was not a bad girl—though she +might have been better; was inclined to be quick-tempered and a little +supercilious, but she had endeavoured to be sincere, to be kind to the +sick and poor, and to champion dumb animals. Well, that Verona was +dead; she had passed away for ever, with all her little vanities and +tempers and love of pretty clothes and interesting pursuits.</p> + +<p>And here was the other, the real original Verona, a poor half-caste, +whose life and thoughts must be confined to the limits of her parents' +purse and wishes, who must keep in step with her two sisters and look +for nothing beyond the horizon of her home. And what had she in common +with her relations? Nothing beyond the mere fact of her existence and +name. Apparently their aim in life was to climb into station society; +and her aim in life?—what was her dearest wish at the present moment? +Her dearest wish—she scarcely dared whisper it even to her inner +soul. Verona was making acquaintance with the truth, the hideous, +hard-hearted truth, and her thoughts were so disordered that she did +not realise what time of night it was, or even that it was night! But +at last her tired body refused to co-operate with her restless mind, +and completely exhausted, she was compelled to drag herself to her +bed—where sleep immediately claimed her.</p> + +<p>Though dreams visited the worn-out traveller, her slumbers were almost +as profound as if she had really passed away. Once she awoke in the +still night; the moon streamed full into the room; there was a faint +sound of flowing water. Where was she? Her drowsy brain failed to +recall the great events of yesterday.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a strange, weird sound pierced the silence, the wild, horrible +howl of a pack of hunting jackals as they swept across the plain beyond +the river, and for a frantic moment the wretched girl believed herself +to be listening, in some dim region, to the agonised wailing of lost +souls.</p> + +<p>But no; it was only a hideous nightmare! She turned on her side with a +sigh of relief, and again relapsed into slumber.</p> + +<p>In the morning when Verona opened her eyes, it was to gaze vacantly +about her. She was at a loss to remember how she came to be lying +in this great bare room. Where was she? Was she in Spain, or some +out-of-the-way French town? She strove to summon her scattered +thoughts, and all too soon they came trooping back and assured her that +she was at last at home—yes, in her real home, among her own people! +She was sensible of a feeling of repulsion and absolute despair, and +yet another self—which must have been her original baby self—cried +shame on her for her hard heart and unnatural, wicked pride. Why should +she be proud? She was nothing more nor less than a well-educated +half-caste, who had been foolishly removed from her proper sphere, +her own particular class. Her father—oh! why had he married a woman +of such a race? Now, she understood his constrained manner, his +ashamed silence and his downcast air, why he seemed to shun his former +associates and to withdraw from society like some social outlaw. And +she, who had never had one hint of her own origin, had acquired the +ideas, refinements and prejudices of a high-bred English girl. What was +to become of her?</p> + +<p>She sat up in bed, holding her hands to her throbbing head, and +endeavoured to individualise her relations. Her father—the broken-down +gentleman, lethargic and dumb; her mother—she shrank from the subject +as a flame; her sisters—uneducated, emotional, shrill; given to cheap +scents and greasy sweetmeats; her grandmother—but one degree above the +ayah; and her own good looks complacently attributed to an ancestress, +a Temple girl who danced before the gods!</p> + +<p>It all sounded like an Opéra Bouffe, a transformation scene of wild, +topsy-turvy comedy, instead of which it was the sharp, agonising truth; +no burlesque, but a heart-breaking tragedy—the tragedy of her life. +How was she to endure this existence? What could she do? Where could +she go? Where hide herself? For the first time in her existence, a +longing for death surprised her.</p> + +<p>There was a loud rattling and calling at the door, which she +opened, to discover (as she half expected), Pussy, in a tattered +pink dressing-jacket and bare feet, bringing her her morning Chotah +Hazri. Here was an end to silence and self-communion; she must rouse +herself, summon her self-command and confront her fate. Meanwhile a +cup of fragrant Indian tea, some slices of curious grey bazaar bread +and peculiarly white butter seemed delicious fare to a girl, who had +scarcely tasted food for four-and-twenty hours.</p> + +<p>The long hours of the morning were devoted by Verona to unpacking her +boxes and distributing gifts, such as books, fans, little ornaments and +knick-knacks; her sisters and Nicky were enchanted with their presents; +her mother only, accepted her share with a doubtful and ungracious air, +nor did she attempt to disguise her opinion that she regarded such +outlay as a sinful waste of money.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon, when tiffin was over, it was the custom of the entire +family to repair to their several lairs in order to enjoy a long +siesta; and Verona, thus released, now set about unpacking her own +personal effects; but Pussy, for once, dispensed with her nap and clung +to her sister with an offer of her society and assistance; it was +impossible for her to comprehend that any one could endure to be alone.</p> + +<p>She artlessly believed that Verona was as anxious for her company +as she was to accord it. Her co-operation being politely declined, +instead of taking her departure—as hoped for—Pussy merely kicked off +her shoes and flung herself at full length on the bed, where she lay +in an attitude of voluptuous ease, lazily contemplating her sister's +exertions.</p> + +<p>"My, my, my! how neat you are!" she exclaimed in admiration, as she +watched her busy relative emptying boxes and putting away linen, "and +how quick; the ayah would have taken hours! What heaps of stockings, +petticoats, and books—none of us read, except father and Dom—you see, +we've not had much schooling. Nicky is as ignorant as a coolie boy; +only for that, he would get into the works. I am just as bad. Dominga +is our clever one; she writes a good hand, and she sings splendidly."</p> + +<p>"Oh, does she?" said Verona; "where was she taught?"</p> + +<p>"She learnt at the school; we were both at school in Nani Tal. They say +her voice is extraordinary, you can hear it half a koss away. She plays +tennis and badminton better than any girl in Manora. Mother is so proud +of her! Mother is clever too, especially at writing and figures; she +loves accounts. Yes, mother loves two things, Dominga and money! Father +loves silence and smoking. Nani loves coffee and news."</p> + +<p>"And Pussy?" looking up with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Loves you, Verona."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, dear."</p> + +<p>"And also someone, oh, so much! but I cannot tell you <i>yet</i>; it is a +secret," and Pussy turned her face away and hid her blushes in the +pillow. However, her blushes and emotion were of transitory duration, +for in a few seconds her sprightly voice was saying:</p> + +<p>"Of course, <i>you</i> have a thousand lovers, Verona?"</p> + +<p>"I? Certainly not!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but—it cannot be true; why there is Dominga, not a quarter so +pretty, and she has had dozens. Even Lizzie Trotter has a young man in +the commissariat."</p> + +<p>"And I have not, even what you call one young man, in anything."</p> + +<p>"You are so pretty, you will get millions of offers; mother wishes us +all to marry. Even when Blanche went, and it was such a poor match, she +was glad. She expects Dominga to marry an officer. Ah, Rona, you are +not even listening," she protested in a little piteous wail, "and I +thought you might like to hear all about it."</p> + +<p>"Of course I am listening," replied her sister, from the interior of an +open box over which she was stooping; "you were saying something about +Dominga and an officer."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and we hardly know one. Father was in the army himself, the 51st +Hussars, and yet he will never call on the mess, although friends of +his have been in the station. Father is so odd—nothing will make him +go near a regiment, not even mother, and she can generally get him +to do whatever she chooses; he has given in to her about everything, +except about <i>you</i>."</p> + +<p>"What about me?" asked her sister, quickly raising her head; "but no, +don't tell me—it is better not."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother will tell you herself; it is no secret! She has told +everyone in Manora that she did not want you to come out. It was +another girl to marry, she said, and no money! She declared you +could get a nice situation at home; and you were a stranger, a black +stranger, and would ruin us with your bad example and silly English +notions. Even Nani said you were like the Dhoby's donkey, for you +neither belonged to the house, or the river! You know how she talks in +proverbs?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," assented Verona in a faint voice.</p> + +<p>"But father swore you should come, and he wrote himself—he who never +writes. Do you know, when mother got your letter she screamed for three +whole hours! She always does that when she is awfully angry. Oh, she +is not angry now she has seen you; no, no, no, she is proud! I heard +her this morning talking over the wall to Mrs. Trotter, and boasting of +your air and figure. But still I think Dominga will always be first."</p> + +<p>"And why not? My mother has had her with her since she was born, and I +am, as you know, a stranger."</p> + +<p>"You won't be long so," declared Pussy; "you will soon be at home, I +can see. Just look how you've put away your things and arranged this +room. Now, I must tell you something about the people all round before +they come to call—so you will know. First of all there are Mr. and +Mrs. Lepell in the big bungalow; he is the manager of the factory, and +draws two thousand rupees a month; he is nice and friendly, but we +never get to know <i>her</i> any better. Oh, she is not exactly proud, but +she keeps us off. Her father was a big swell, and she has a fortune. +She is not at all young; mother says she must be five-and-forty, but +she dresses beautifully, and gives such fine parties; they entertain +the whole station like a king and queen. Yess, she is quite the Burra +Mem Sahib, and only asks us to her small affairs, when we meet just the +other factory people. Mother hates her—oh, goody me!—like poison, but +is always awfully pleasant to her, and sends her her best mango jelly +and chutney, because she hopes she may take up Dominga. She did ask Dom +once to sing, and if Mrs. Lepell would chaperon Dom into society, her +fortune would be made. Oh, my, yess!"</p> + +<p>"I see," assented her listener, "and it is with this hope that mother +sends her mango jam?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. Then there are the Trotters," resumed Pussy, with an air +of complacent narration; "he was only a sergeant in some regiment, and +he is the engineer here; they say he is very clever—just a common, +rough man, with such a pushing family. There is Mrs. Trotter and Amelia +and Georgina, Louisa and Tom. Tom is in the works. He and Dominga used +to be pals; but she threw him over long ago. The Trotters are always +looking down on us, because we have never been home, and they were +born in England; but they are coolie people, and our father is an +officer and a gentleman. Sometimes we are awfully friendly with the +Trotters, and in and out ten times a day; sometimes we don't speak for +months. Last time we quarrelled was about a bottle of anchovy sauce +which they never returned.</p> + +<p>"Then there are the Watkins, a newly-married couple, out from +Manchester. He is secretary; she is awfully prim, and afraid to know +any one, and dresses for dinner when they are quite <i>alone</i>, and talks +of her father keeping two gardeners. There are the Cavalhos; they are +just half-castes; oh, so dark, and yet not bad. I like them; they +are awfully good natured. When anyone is in trouble they all run to +Mistress Cavalho. Also, there are the Olivers—gone home on leave—very +nice people and not stiff, though they are gentry folk. There are some +young men clerks—Raymond, and Smith and Mackenzie. We all meet at the +tennis three times a week and play together, whether we are friends or +not. Then there is Salwey——" She paused.</p> + +<p>"Who is he?" inquired Verona, feigning an interest which she was far +from feeling.</p> + +<p>"The police officer, a nephew of Mrs. Lepell's; he lives in +cantonments. He is so strict and severe. Oh, mother does hate him—I +believe she is afraid of him!"</p> + +<p>"How can he possibly affect mother?" inquired Verona, as she sorted out +some gloves.</p> + +<p>"Of course, not at all, but he gives you the horrid notion that he can +read your thoughts, and knows every single little thing about you. +Whenever he looks at me, I can't help wriggling like an insect on a +pin, and mother declares that he has the evil eye!"</p> + +<p>"The evil eye!" repeated Verona; "you don't really believe in such +nonsense?"</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps not. Salwey's eyes are bluey-grey, like steel. He is not +bad looking, and once—now I'll tell you a secret——"</p> + +<p>"No, don't! Please!" protested Verona, throwing up her hands.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I must; I do like talking secrets," pursued Pussy with +breathless volubility, "I think Dominga used to be crazy about him, and +sent him notes by Nicky."</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I don't believe he ever gave them. Salwey and Nicky are +great friends. He lives near the river and has a boat, and comes up +to the Lepells that way when he is in the station. He gave Nicky a +pup, and books and advice, and taught him to row. We have a boat, too. +Nicky's awfully fond of Salwey, he just worships him; but he can't bear +Dominga, and I don't believe he ever gave the letters. You must know +that in this house there are two factions: it is Dom and mother against +Nick and me. Oh! oh! oh!" suddenly sitting erect, "you are getting out +your dresses! how lovelee!" as Verona unfolded and displayed a white +crêpe de chine, a green foulard and an exquisite white and silver ball +dress.</p> + +<p>Pussy clapped her hands excitedly, and screaming, "Oh, I must call the +others," leapt off the bed and ran shoeless out of the room.</p> + +<p>Verona was a girl who wore her clothes well in every respect; not +only had she the knack of investing them with her own grace and +individuality, but they still seemed dainty and fresh long after they +had passed their first bloom. There were no tea or coffee stains on +the front breadth (that every-day misfortune), frayed seams or ragged +edges in the gowns she was taking from her boxes or ranging round the +room for the promised exhibition. Here were tailor costumes, evening +dresses, muslins, laces and many dainty frocks which had been worn at +Homburg, Aix and Cannes, and some had cost what is figuratively termed +"a small fortune."</p> + +<p>The apartment now resembled the atelier of some fashionable milliner, +the stock was so choice and extensive. In a surprisingly short time +the "others" had assembled. These included Mrs. Chandos, her hair in +curling pins, spotted dressing-jacket and short striped petticoat—she +had very neat feet; Dominga, in ragged <i>déshabille</i>; the ayah, +attracted from her hookah; last, not least, Granny Lopez, clad in +a loose garment that was really an old tussore silk dust-cloak, a +scanty petticoat and a pair of discarded tennis shoes, carrying under +her arm a reluctant black cat—all come to behold and gloat over the +great show. Nani was accommodated with a chair, and Verona, by special +request, held up and exhibited separately the most elegant items of her +wardrobe.</p> + +<p>What little screams of admiration greeted the sight of some garments; +what a chorus of "Oh, mys!" attended the display of others. By the +end of half an hour every possible epithet of admiration had been +exhausted, and Verona was exhausted too.</p> + +<p>"Well, in all my life, I never did see such beautiful clothes," +confessed Mrs. Chandos.</p> + +<p>Which statement was no doubt true.</p> + +<p>"They must have cost hundreds of pounds."</p> + +<p>This was also a fact.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my! Oh, my! what advantages you have had, Verona, child, compared +with these poor girls," she continued as she flitted about the room +in a condition of extraordinary excitement; "you must share your fine +feathers with them now. If Dominga here were set off in that blue and +white, she would look every bit as well as you; all she wants is to be +dressed up in good clothes—eh, Nani?"</p> + +<p>"That is so," agreed the elder with her wheezy laugh, "for who can row +without water?"</p> + +<p>"Now I shall divide some of these things," declared Mrs. Chandos, as +she hovered about; "Verona could not wear half of them."</p> + +<p>Verona, who had made up her mind never again to mix in society, and +had originally brought out this large outfit with the intention of +sharing it with her sisters, would nevertheless have preferred to have +bestowed her garments to her own liking, and not to stand by passively +while her mother distributed her wardrobe. The choicest articles were +shamelessly selected for Dominga—for instance, a magnificent white +satin gown, a pale blue crêpe de chine, an elaborate lace costume, a +mauve and silver tea gown. Then Pussy was endowed with various frocks +and hats (Verona helping in the selection), and the possession of a +certain pink feather boa had made her completely happy. Verona also +chose a pretty chiffon cape, which she spread over her grandmother's +ample shoulders. It was a very orgie of millinery, among which Mrs. +Chandos hovered, picking out a toque here, a sash there. At last, when +the supply had become somewhat low, she said:</p> + +<p>"Well, that will do for the girls; I will take these blouses and the +pink satin for myself; it will alter, and I will wear it for the +Volunteer Ball. Eh, Nani, what do you say?"</p> + +<p>"I say that if you wear such a frock you'll be more celebrated than the +devil!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, bah!" cried her daughter. "You funny old woman. Is that all you +have to say?"</p> + +<p>"No," she responded, and turning to Verona with a nod of her head at +the different piles of her property which had been distributed, "they +all like you very much now, Verona, child—'he who holds the ladle has +everybody his friend.' But let me tell you one thing more—your mother +has a pocket like the crop of a duck—you can never fill it!"</p> + +<p>"And you are a curiosity and should be put in a museum," retorted her +daughter in great good humour. "Come, come, it is now half-past four +o'clock; Blanche and Montagu will be here soon; let us clear away and +dress," and swooping down upon a heap of her spoils, Mrs. Chandos +hurried out of the room, followed by Dominga, Pussy and the ayah, each +bowed down and nearly hidden by their loads of new finery.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Lopez was slower to move; having extricated herself from her +chair with considerable difficulty, she stood for a moment gazing at +Verona, and said, in an impressive voice:</p> + +<p>"You have given me a nice present; you are a very generous girl and do +not despise your old crannie grandmother, so I will tell you one good +proverb to cheer you! Now listen."</p> + +<p>"I am listening, Nani."</p> + +<p>"'Our past is ourselves, what we are, and will be,'" quoted Mrs. +Lopez, and she continued to look fixedly at Verona with a significant +expression in her little dark eyes. "Do not trouble, child—you will +never be of <i>us</i>," then hitching the black cat under her arm, she +waddled away to her own quarters.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</h2> +</div> + + +<p>There was a sudden commotion in the front part of the +bungalow—barking, running and calling. Dominga, in a breathless +condition, burst in upon Verona, and gasped out:</p> + +<p>"Oh, my goodness, here is Blanche! and none of us are dressed! Do go +into the drawing-room, you are ready. Go, go, go!"</p> + +<p>Thus exhorted, Verona hastened into that apartment, barely in time to +see a gharry, drawn by two wretched ponies, rattle underneath the porch.</p> + +<p>The first person she descried was a stout ayah, who descended +backwards, carrying an infant over her shoulder; an alert, +sharp-looking creature, in a gay hood, with eyes like two jet beads, +and a dusky skin.</p> + +<p>The next to appear was, no doubt, Blanche herself; a little, dark, wiry +woman, closely resembling her mother, wearing a smart pink cotton, a +picture hat and a profusion of bead chains. She sprang up the steps, +suddenly stopped short, stared helplessly at Verona, and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Hul—lo! I suppose this is the third Miss Chandos?" Then she giggled +immoderately, and proceeded to kiss her, adding:</p> + +<p>"I am Blanche. Blanche Montagu Jones, you know, and here," turning and +dragging forward her husband, "is your brother, Montagu."</p> + +<p>Montagu was a lank, narrow-chested Eurasian, showily dressed in a blue +and white striped suit; he wore a red satin tie, a gilt chain and +several rings. He had well-cut features, a simple, amiable expression, +and a pair of pale grey eyes, which seemed peculiarly out of place when +contrasted with his dark face, and ink-black hair.</p> + +<p>"Come, you may kiss her; I give you leave," declared his sprightly +wife, pushing him forward with both hands.</p> + +<p>But however willing he might have been to accept this permission, +there was an expression on the face of the third Miss Chandos which +constrained him, and he merely sniggered and offered a limp hand.</p> + +<p>"What! not kiss Monty, your own brother?" cried Blanche, in a tone +of affronted amazement, "then all I can say is—I'm sorry for your +<i>taste</i>!"</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Monty consoled himself by saluting his mother-in-law—with +whom he appeared to be on terms of unnatural affection.</p> + +<p>"And here," resumed Blanche, now waving forward her offspring, "is your +dear little nephew, Chandos Montagu Jones; he is ten weeks old to-day. +Kiss your new auntie, sweetie king."</p> + +<p>From this embrace there was of course no escape; for the ayah promptly +handed the child to Verona with an air of gratified relief. If Verona +had been informed that it was the woman's own infant, she would have +accepted the announcement without demur, the little thing was so dark; +its olive face was bright and cheery, and she dandled it, kissed it, +and carried it about with a secret presentiment that she would like it +better than either of its parents!</p> + +<p>"Well, now there is so much I want to know," began Blanche, as she +threw herself into a chair; "when did she come?" nodding at Verona, +"for we all went to the train and could not see her anywhere. We took +the De Castros, and the Jenkins, and Mr. Bott, and those two young +fellows from the cantonment office. Oh, my! they were all dying to get +the first sight of Verona, and she was not there. She must have come by +the four o'clock, and we went to the half-past two."</p> + +<p>"Dios!" suddenly interrupting herself with a loud shriek, for here +entered, with mincing and self-conscious gait, Dominga and Pussy, +attired in two of Verona's most elegant casino costumes. The former +in pale green (her particular colour), veiled with white lace, and +garnished with black velvet; the latter, in a superb hand-painted +muslin. They wore hats and ruffles to correspond, and an air of +overwhelming complacency.</p> + +<p>"Why, why, what is this, what is this?" screamed Blanche, backing +towards the verandah with uplifted hands and an expression of awe and +bewilderment.</p> + +<p>Without delay it was volubly explained to her by three voices, all +gabbling together, that these were the garments of Verona, who had +more smart clothes than the room could hold. Then Dominga and Pussy +sat down, each on a separate sofa, spread out their skirts, fanned +themselves languidly, and proceeded to imagine that they were fine +ladies. Gradually Blanche's gaze of awed admiration faded into a scowl +of envy.</p> + +<p>Montagu stared and sniggered, and twirled his moustache, whilst Verona +stood in the background, holding the little dark child, who apparently +liked her, and clung to her neck like a very crab.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you shall have your share, too!" said Dominga, in a soothing +tone, as she recognised the storm cone—for Blanche had inherited her +mother's temper.</p> + +<p>"There is a lovely toque for you, and such a dress piece of white +alpaca, and you shall have one of my parasols. There now!"</p> + +<p>"Parasol, cha—a—h" (native expression of scorn)—"you put me off like +that! Why shouldn't I have a smart dress? How sly and greedy you all +are, keeping the grand things to yourselves—just like pigs. One thing +you forget," as she straightened herself and glared from Dominga to +Pussy, then back from Pussy to Dominga, "I am the eldest!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, but that does not count now," was the bold retort, "you are +not one of us; you are married. Oh, my!" with a change of key. "Here is +Mrs. Lepell, what shall we do?"</p> + +<p>During this interesting altercation a slim little lady, with a clever +piquant face, had walked on to the verandah totally unnoticed.</p> + +<p>She wore a simple linen gown and a large garden hat, and her hair, +which was turned off her delicate careworn face, was touched with grey.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Mrs. Chandos?" she said, coming forward, then gave a +perceptible start as her eye fell on the two Paris models.</p> + +<p>"I've just walked across to call on your daughter, the new arrival," +and she nodded to the rest of the company.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you," stammered Mrs. Chandos, "you are so kind, there +she is," and she beckoned to Verona, who stood in the background, +still holding the child; this its grandmother snatched from her with +irritable haste, and said as she thrust it into the ayah's arms:</p> + +<p>"Verona, here is Mrs. Lepell, she has been so kind as to ask for you."</p> + +<p>If Mrs. Lepell had been amazed by the brilliant toilettes of the Misses +Chandos, she was more astonished now, when a girl of her own class +came slowly forward: a beautiful dark-eyed creature, with an air of +unaffected distinction.</p> + +<p>At first she could scarcely believe the evidence of her senses. Here, +indeed, was a dove in the crow's nest.</p> + +<p>"So you only arrived yesterday?" she managed to articulate at last.</p> + +<p>"Yes, last evening."</p> + +<p>"Shall we sit over here?" said Mrs. Lepell, indicating a settee a +little apart. Her visit was to the stranger, whose acquaintance she was +now really anxious to make. She particularly disliked Mrs. Chandos, +and if there was one young woman who was more obnoxious to her than +Dominga, it was Blanche Montagu Jones. The family accepted the hint +with obvious reluctance, and stood aloof in a group, whispering, +giggling and wrangling.</p> + +<p>"I believe you have never been in India since you were a small child," +continued Mrs. Lepell, addressing her companion.</p> + +<p>"No, I do not remember it; I have lived in Europe for twenty years."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I wonder what you will think of us all!"</p> + +<p>Verona raised her eyes to her visitor, then dropped them hastily, but +not before Mrs. Lepell had caught their look of unspoken despair.</p> + +<p>"I am quite an old Anglo-Indian," she continued briskly. "I loathed +the country at first, now I am much attached to it; the cold weather +will be here in another few weeks. You will enjoy that, it is our gay +season."</p> + +<p>Here it seemed to Mrs. Lepell that her companion gave a slight +involuntary shudder.</p> + +<p>"I am sure you will wonder at the way these mad girls are giggling," +said Mrs. Chandos, with a would-be jaunty air, as she approached and +indicated Dominga and Pussy. "They are awfully smart, and have been +trying on their sister's kind presents."</p> + +<p>"Why, mother," interposed Blanche (who had no fear of Mrs. Lepell, her +husband not being in the factory), "Pussy tells me that besides the +beautiful presents she brought out, you divided all Verona's best gowns +between her and Dominga!"</p> + +<p>On such occasions as the present Mrs. Chandos hated her eldest +daughter, who had a sharp and utterly fearless tongue.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you do not understand," she began excitedly.</p> + +<p>"I see I've come in for a dress-rehearsal," observed Mrs. Lepell, +hoping to smooth matters.</p> + +<p>"Borrowed plumes! secondhand clothes. Ch-a-ah!" sneered Blanche, in +a shrill, discordant key. She breathed so hard that all her beads +jingled, and her husband retreated precipitately into the verandah.</p> + +<p>Was Blanche going to have a row with her mother?</p> + +<p>Oh, she was so fond of rows! Rows commencing with shrill vituperation, +screaming abuse, and concluding (in cases of defeat) in hysterics and +collapse.</p> + +<p>"I think you must have come out with the Trevors," continued Mrs. +Lepell, as she turned to Verona, "I see they were in the <i>Egypt</i>."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I met them before; we were at the same hotel in Cannes for +three months."</p> + +<p>"Then you know the Riviera?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, we generally spent the winter there—or in Florence."</p> + +<p>"You seem to have travelled a good deal."</p> + +<p>"We lived on the Continent ever since I grew up. This time last year we +were at Homburg."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if you met my cousins, Sir Ellis and Lady Byng? They go there +every season."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I used to go motoring with them, and played golf with their +daughter Eva; she is such a nice girl. We were great friends."</p> + +<p>For the moment Verona had forgotten herself and her surroundings. +She was no longer a Eurasian, patronised by the wife of her father's +employer, but one English woman talking to another on an agreeable +equality.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you had happy times at Homburg," said Mrs. Lepell, "and of +course you went to the Opera at Frankfort?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, constantly; we used to rush over on a motor car."</p> + +<p>"And here you come down to bullock carts! Well, if we're not +progressive, we're at least picturesque. I hope you brought out a few +of the last new books, as well as the last new fashions?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I've a fairly good supply, and all this month's magazines."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall certainly come and borrow from you; I am a ravenous +reader, and find it difficult to keep myself going in books. At present +I am starving and reduced to back numbers."</p> + +<p>"I shall be delighted to supply you."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then," said Mrs. Lepell, rising, "you have no idea how +rapacious I can be. I hope you will come and see me as soon as you are +settled. I am always at home, from three to five."</p> + +<p>This was the warmest invitation the stiff-necked little lady had ever +accorded to a Chandos; she had never told Dominga she was "at home from +three to five." But, then, she neither admired nor pitied Dominga, who +was not an interesting acquaintance, merely an emotional, empty-headed +half-caste, with a fierce craving for pleasure, and a powerful soprano +voice.</p> + +<p>This new arrival was a totally different person, well-educated, +refined, reserved. Alas, poor child! fresh from congenial English +society and many agreeable friends, to be cast into the midst of this +squalid Eurasian family. What a fate!</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Montagu Jones remained to dine with their relations, and +Nani Lopez joined the party, invested in the rich satin purple gown +which she had purchased for Blanche's wedding; or, more correctly +speaking, she wore the flowing skirt, but had substituted for the +bodice an easy white jacket, and had coloured her face white to +correspond. Verona surveyed her venerable relations with reproachful +eyes. <i>How</i> could people, who were naturally dark, imagine it possible +to change their skin by merely covering it with layers of pearl powder?</p> + +<p>"Granny always comes in when we have Blanche," explained Dominga, in a +whisper, "because she hears the news. All the same she and Blanche were +never good friends. She calls Blanche a silly little bazaar cat."</p> + +<p>Mr. Chandos, who seemed to spend his entire day in the factory, +appeared shortly before dinner and received with surprise the little +gifts offered by his English daughter.</p> + +<p>"Books," he muttered, "now I wonder how you guessed at what I liked +best? Books, and a tobacco pouch. My two resources are reading and +smoking."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yess, he is arl-right when he has his pipe and his books," +remarked Nani Lopez in her soft fat voice. "He thinks he gets away from +his cares; but it is not so. Go to the wilderness, you cannot escape +fleas."</p> + +<p>During dinner conversation was loud and animated. Blanche and Dominga, +who were seated opposite to one another, leant their elbows on the +table, and screamed across the board in their thin ear-piercing +trebles. Dominga volubly related the particulars of a recent social +outrage on the part of Mrs. Watkin, whilst Blanche, whose feelings were +chiefly on the surface, gave a highly coloured description of the death +of a kid and the illness of a bosom friend.</p> + +<p>"I went to see Lucia Mendoza this morning. She looked so, so sick. +Well, I declare I was so struck, I fell down on her bed and I cried, +and I cried. If anything should happen to thatt girl, I shall <i>die</i>; I +know I shall."</p> + +<p>"What nonsense you talk, child!" protested her grandmother. "Such +foolish grief might have frightened the poor creature to death."</p> + +<p>"And," broke in Nicky, "though you and Lucia Mendoza are such grand +friends now, it is not a month since you came out here very mad, and +talking of going to law, because she had called you bad names."</p> + +<p>"If Lucia were to take curdled milk and coriander seed she would soon +get arl-right," resumed Mrs. Lopez, "but she should begin it on a +Wednesday, it is a lucky day. Mind you tell her," and she looked over +at Blanche, and nodded her head impressively.</p> + +<p>"Isn't Nani a funny old woman?" said Blanche, suddenly addressing +herself to Verona. "Did you ever see anyone like her in England?"</p> + +<p>"Now, you don't talk like thatt, Mistress Blanche Jones," interposed +the old lady good-humouredly. "Anyhow, I know more of drugs, and cures, +and charms, than any old woman she has ever seen. Do you tell us some +news!"</p> + +<p>Thus invited, Blanche readily poured out all the latest intelligence +respecting the forthcoming theatricals, and the race meeting which was +to be held after Christmas. A long altercation ensued respecting the +prices of tickets, in which Monty, Pussy and Mrs. Chandos took part. +Even Granny Lopez threw in a word or two, but Verona and her father +remained silent; his thoughts were obviously elsewhere, and as far +as the family were concerned, his body might have accompanied them; +evidently they were accustomed to his attitude of remoteness. Verona +looked at his hollow, expressionless eyes, and wondered what manner of +man he might be? His stolid, inert silence had an almost paralysing +effect, but she struggled bravely against the sensation, and ventured +several remarks on the climate, the wonderful beauty of the surrounding +trees and shrubs, the war in South Africa; but to all these efforts +the sole response was a brief, monosyllabic reply. She felt repulsed, +painfully disappointed, and shrank into herself and silence.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Blanche was retailing to her delighted grandmother the most +recent and reliable "cook-house" gossip. She learnt that Mrs. Cotton +had had five ayahs in a week, her temper was so furious, and she had +got an awfully bad name in the bazaar. The Coopers of the railway had +always bragged of their cook, and now he had run away with a lot of +money, four fat ducks, and the new water filter.</p> + +<p>Then there was a rumour of the other half of the regiment coming from +Bhetapore. The colonel's lady and the major's lady did not speak, they +had quarrelled about a dirzee. There were going to be theatricals in +Rajahpore in race week, a big ball in Lucknow for charity; anyone could +go who paid ten rupees.</p> + +<p>"But for my part," added Blanche, "now I am married, I don't care for +dancing. Give me my evenings at home!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, wait till the dances begin in the cold weather," rejoined Mrs. +Lopez, "and all the other women go. Oh! I know you! 'The cat is a +Dervish—till the milk comes'!"</p> + +<p>Blanche merely shrugged her skinny shoulders and giggled, then leaning +half across the table, said:</p> + +<p>"Mother, is it true that the Trotters are always asking that young +Smith out, and making a fuss with him and having him to dinner? Do you +think Mrs. Trotter wants to marry him to Lizzie?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Trotter told me yesterday," announced Nani Lopez, resolved not to +be thrust out of the conversation, "that it is all foolish talk, and +there is nothing in it; but I do not believe her. There is two hundred +rupees a month, and free quarters in it; we can all see her plan and +the meaning of her good dinners. It is a mountain behind a straw!"</p> + +<p>"You will notice your grandmother has a proverb for every occasion," +said Mr. Chandos, at last turning to Verona and addressing her. If +they were the silent members of the party, they were also to all +appearances—the sole Europeans present.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lopez, Mrs. Chandos, Blanche, Pussy, Monty, and Nicky were dark. +Even Dominga, for all her white skin, had a peculiar foreign look; +there was something alien in the cast of her features, and the shrill +tone of her voice.</p> + +<p>Monty made little conversation, but an excellent meal; indeed, most +of the family ate heartily of mulligatawny, stewed beef and stuffed +bunjals, concluding with a quantity of mysterious-looking sweetmeats.</p> + +<p>"You must come in and stay with us, and we will show you off," said +Blanche, accosting Verona. "I will take you to church, and to the club; +you will cut out all the officers' wives. My, how they will stare! Oh, +goody me!"</p> + +<p>"But you cannot have Verona!" protested Dominga, "you have never been +able to have Pussy, or me; you know you have no room."</p> + +<p>"Oh I can make room if I <i>want</i> to," rejoined Blanche, meeting her +sister's gaze with a bold stare.</p> + +<p>"Truly you are paid a fine compliment by Mistress Blanche," put in her +irrepressible Nani. "She does not care for guests. She likes, as the +proverb says, 'Talk in my house—a dinner—in yours.'"</p> + +<p>"I will introduce Verona to the railway and the telegraph people," +resumed Blanche (wisely ignoring this disagreeable interruption). "We +will get up some parties and have lots of jolly fun. Now we will go +into the drawing-room, and Verona must hear Dominga sing."</p> + +<p>As she spoke, Blanche hurried forward and opened the piano with her +own hands. It was a fine instrument, which Mrs. Chandos had picked up +a bargain at some sale. Candles were lit, and there was a good deal of +bustle and chattering before Dominga trailed over in the new tea-gown, +and took her place at the instrument with an air of a prima donna.</p> + +<p>She played the introduction to Tosti's "Good-bye" with somewhat +uncertain fingers, and in another moment the room was ringing with +her voice. It was a powerful, elastic soprano, clear and strong, +and ill-taught. Undoubtedly a wonderful organ, but it had a strange +metallic ring—a native ring; the note of her great-grandmother, who +poured forth to the gods her shrill Marathi songs. Whilst Dominga sang, +her mother and three sisters sat wrapped in ecstasy. The ladies of the +family were unaffectedly proud of the performance, but Mr. Chandos and +Monty had disappeared out into the verandah, where they smoked together +in guilty company, for Dominga's gift did not appeal to them.</p> + +<p>"Well, you've never heard finer singing than that?" and Mrs. Chandos +turned to Verona with a challenge in her eye.</p> + +<p>"It is indeed marvellous," she assented, "and would, I think, make her +fortune if it were trained."</p> + +<p>"Trained? Why she has had lots of lessons at school, and practises +often an hour a day. I suppose"—with a little sniff—"your voice has +been what you call 'trained'?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but mine has so little compass; it is very different from +Dominga's."</p> + +<p>"But you sing, of course?" said Blanche, who was now busily doing +the honours of her mother's house. "Dom, you get away from the +piano"—pulling her sister by the arm—"Verona will take your place."</p> + +<p>"Does not Dominga look splendid?" murmured her mother, gazing at her +in rapture as she stood up and looked towards them. "Oh, I have always +said she only wanted dress. Now you go and sing."</p> + +<p>"I feel so diffident about coming after you," said Verona, as she +approached the piano, "but they want to hear me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and so do I; I daresay I have some of your songs," replied +Dominga, with an air of gracious patronage, and then turning aside, she +began to root among a quantity of tattered, old-fashioned music.</p> + +<p>A few songs that were clean and new, Dominga kept exclusively apart, +and on one of these Verona noticed that the name of "Dominga Chandos" +was inscribed in a bold masculine hand by someone named "Charlie." +Finally, failing to discover anything to suit her mezzo-soprano, she +sat down and sang from memory the "Sands of Dee."</p> + +<p>Verona had an exquisitely sweet, haunting voice; every note was clear +and full, and told. When she had removed her hands from the piano, +instead of applause, there ensued strange silence. Monty and his +father-in-law were standing inside the door and the face of the latter +was working with some irrepressible emotion.</p> + +<p>"Whatt a nice little song," exclaimed Mrs. Chandos. "Why," with a +sudden start, "here are the Cavalhos," as she descried two figures +mounting the steps. "Oh, my goodness, whatt a bother."</p> + +<p>"May we come in?" inquired a high, chirrupy treble, and without +waiting for a reply, an elderly woman, wearing a white dress and a +black apron, walked forward, followed by her husband, a very stout, +clean-shaven man with a round bullet head. They were both decidedly +dark, but had kind, good-tempered faces, and indeed, in Mistress +Cavalho's sweet dark eyes there lingered traces of a once renowned +beauty.</p> + +<p>"We heard Dominga singing," she announced, "so we knew you must have +the lamp lit in the drawing-room, and we came over in a friendly way +to see"—here she glanced incredulously at Verona—"is this your +daughter?" She pronounced it "da-ter."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how do you do, Miss. I hope you will like Manora."</p> + +<p>"Thank you."</p> + +<p>"And here is Pedro, my husband, come to pay his respects."</p> + +<p>Pedro gave his stout body a little jerk—doubtless intended for a bow.</p> + +<p>"Now, pray do not let us stop the music," accepting a seat on the sofa +beside Mrs. Chandos.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my! Dominga, you do sing better and better; that last song, it +nearly killed me. We waited outside to listen; it sounded like an angel +who was shut up in some prison house and breaking her heart; I tell +you it squeezed my throat, and Pedro—oh, he gave one great sob." Here +Pedro, with a deprecatory grin, suddenly backed into the verandah and +the company of his host.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I never heard such singing," resumed his wife, with her eyes fixed +on Dominga, "my, my, whatt a gift! What pleasure to others." A moment's +pause, then, with a sudden laugh, Nicky burst out:</p> + +<p>"It was Verona," pointing with a rude forefinger, "Verona, who gave +your throat a squeeze, and made old Daddy sob."</p> + +<p>Once more there was a silence, this time of a truly painful +description. Dominga's face was livid; her mother's mouth was set, and +there was an angry sparkle in her eye.</p> + +<p>Then Verona, with extraordinary courage and presence of mind, threw +herself into the gulf and said:</p> + +<p>"It was the pretty air which affected you, Mrs. Cavalho; my voice is +very poor in comparison to my sister's."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thatt is true," assented her mother with feverish energy, "thatt +is quite true. It is no voice at all—and Dominga you can hear for a +mile."</p> + +<p>Poor Mrs. Cavalho was sincerely grateful for the explanation, being +secretly afraid of Dominga, whose expression had fully justified her +alarm; and as a proof of her gratitude to Verona, moved a little closer +to her mother, and laying a hand on hers, softly whispered:</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear friend, whatt a lucky woman you are with your five +children around you—and we, that have not one—and this new da-ter, +like a queen, the most beautiful of all!"</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Chandos gave her chin a contemptuous tilt, shook off the kind, +little hand, and remarked in a querulous tone:</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, she is all very well now; but when she has had a couple of +hot weathers, she will not be so wonderful, you will see."</p> + +<p>But to this melancholy prophecy good Mrs. Cavalho absolutely refused +to assent. Dominga, who had succeeded to the piano stool, now favoured +the company with two penetrating songs; then a servant appeared with a +tray on which was rum (factory rum), water, sweet syrup (home-made) and +biscuits—a signal that the entertainment was waning.</p> + +<p>The community at Manora were early risers, and the guests now began to +disperse.</p> + +<p>"Do look at grandmamma!" said Blanche as she rose, "she is sound +asleep; she does not care for music, only snake-charmers, and +tom-toms, and those whining bazaar tunes. Ayah and baby are already +in the gharry, and we must be going. Remember I expect you all to tea +to-morrow, especially Verona," and after a series of shrill good-byes, +parting injunctions, and smacking kisses, the Jones family were once +more packed into their hired conveyance, and rattled back to Rajahpore.</p> + +<p>"Aré, so they are gone," said Mrs. Lopez, sitting erect, and indulging +herself with a prodigious yawn; "that Monty is a stupid owl, and +Blanche is still so gay and grand. Well! Well! Well! You know the +saying, 'The cow does not find her own horns heavy.' Now I'm going away +to my bed."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>In half-an-hour the whole family had retired, and a profound peace fell +upon the bungalow. Verona opened the glass door of her room and stole +out, and once more began to pace the path by the river bank.</p> + +<p>It was a perfect moonlight night, and oh, what a delightful change from +the noise and chatter of the day! The scene was beautiful, all the +landscape being outlined in silver; the everyday yellow plain across +the water had now a far-away, fairy-like effect. The silence was almost +death-like; the hideous cry of the hunting jackal, the scream of a +night hawk, disturbed the night—elsewhere, and the only sound to be +heard was the occasional flop of a belated fish. To Verona there was +something extraordinarily soothing and grateful in her surroundings, +although her head throbbed and ached, and she held her hands to her +forehead as she paced up and down. All at once she was aware of +something—a faint distant sound—what was it? The regular dip of oars +coming nearer and nearer; in two or three minutes a white boat rowed +by one man shot into sight. As it approached, she perceived that the +oarsman, whose curly head was bare, was a sahib, for the moon shone a +full dazzling light on his good-looking, determined face. When the boat +was almost opposite he leant for a moment on his oars and called over +to her:</p> + +<p>"Hullo! Miss Dominga, are you not afraid of the malaria at this time of +night?" As Verona made no reply he rowed a stroke nearer, stared hard +at her, and then exclaimed with apologetic haste:</p> + +<p>"Oh, I beg your pardon; I mistook you for Miss Chandos!" and without +another word rowed swiftly away. Verona watched his long, sweeping +strokes till he turned a bend in the river, and so was lost to sight.</p> + +<p>No doubt this was Dominga's lover; he had a pleasant voice, a fine +face, and a stalwart pair of arms.</p> + +<p>Dominga was unaccountably fortunate.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Whilst this genial family party was proceeding in Mr. Chandos' house, a +gathering of another description took place in the vicinity.</p> + +<p>"The big bungalow," as it was called, was large and luxurious; the +furniture modern and tasteful. Mrs. Lepell's frequent journeys to +England resulted in many pretty things, such as choice water-colours, +bits of quaint silver, fresh chintz covers; then there were soft +draperies and screens, books and flowers in profusion.</p> + +<p>After dinner three men sat smoking, sipping coffee in the verandah; +Mrs. Lepell, in a comfortable chair, and graceful tea-gown, was the +only woman present. Her husband, Tom Lepell, a hale man of sixty, had +been respected in India for five-and-thirty years; he was reputed to +be hard, but just; a stern master and a staunch friend, whose energies +were solely devoted to sugar and crops, to goor and rab. Then there +was his charming wife, bright and popular; his wife's nephew, Brian +Salwey, superintendent of police in the Rajahpore district. When at +headquarters, he frequently rowed up the river, and spent an evening +with his Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Tom. He had his own room, his own chair, +and kept a suit of evening dress-clothes at Manora, for he found favour +in the eyes of his well-to-do relations.</p> + +<p>Brian Salwey had a pair of steady grey eyes, his features were finely +cut, and their expression intelligent; his face was tanned to almost +the same shade as his curly locks, his mouth was firm, and his age +was thirty. Originally he was intended for the Army, but the idea had +been relinquished, and he thought himself exceedingly fortunate to +procure a nomination in the Indian police. The billet fitted him like +a glove, his profession interested him profoundly; like some young +police officers he was an enthusiast, and was one of those men who, +putting his hand to the plough, never looks back. Salwey was poor, but +well-educated, well born, but without social influence.</p> + +<p>Being considered a most able officer by the heads of his department, +he was naturally dispatched to quite the worst circle in the district. +Here he was extravagant in horseflesh and books; and Bazaar report +declared him to be in love with the Lal Billi (Red Cat); in other +words, Dominga Chandos. The fourth individual in the verandah was the +little officer to whom Verona had been introduced in Rajahpore station +refreshment room.</p> + +<p>"The Chandos' are all lit up, and having a grand party," remarked Mr. +Lepell. "There was a gharry at the door just now. Out here, we live in +our neighbours' pockets, you see."</p> + +<p>"I saw such a tragedy there to-day," observed his wife, sitting up and +leaning forward, "something that haunts me; a lovely girl"—here she +paused and sighed.</p> + +<p>"I've not the slightest objection to her haunting <i>me</i>," cried Major +Gale, with a snigger. "Pray go on."</p> + +<p>"I called on the Chandos family, or rather on the daughter from +England."</p> + +<p>"Oh, by-the-way, yes," interrupted Major Gale, with sudden animation, +"I saw her yesterday at the station with the old boy. He looked as +if he did not know what on earth to do with her! She is uncommonly +handsome, the profile of a cameo, the air of a duchess, and the +pride—may I say—of the devil."</p> + +<p>"Oh, poor girl," exclaimed Mrs. Lepell, with a little fluttering sigh, +"she had not seen her relations <i>then</i>."</p> + +<p>"No, I assume not," assented Major Gale, as he tossed away the end +of a cigarette. "I give you my word, she is as white as you are, Mrs. +Lepell."</p> + +<p>"That is no compliment, for she has a beautiful complexion," was her +generous reply, "and I have been twenty years grizzling in India."</p> + +<p>"Chandos looked hang-dog, and thoroughly ashamed of himself, as he +always does," resumed Major Gale.</p> + +<p>"An unfortunate man, I am always sorry for him," remarked Mr. Lepell, +speaking for the first time. "I happen to know his history."</p> + +<p>"Oh, really, do you?" ejaculated his guest, with the utmost +indifference, selecting, as he spoke, a fresh cigarette.</p> + +<p>"But what about the girl, Aunt Liz?" said her nephew suddenly, "is she +really own sister to my friend Dominga?"</p> + +<p>"I think so—indeed, what am I saying? Of course she is; she comes +between her and Pussy, and by all accounts is the flower of the flock; +adopted as an infant by an enormously rich woman—the schoolfellow of +Mrs. Lopez."</p> + +<p>"I cannot believe"—here he laughed—"that Mrs. Lopez ever went to +school."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she did, to Kidderpore. Mrs. Lopez was a beauty once, so was Mrs. +Chandos."</p> + +<p>"I don't admire beauties of that type."</p> + +<p>"Don't you?" exclaimed Mr. Lepell. "I've seen some lovely Nair women on +the West coast, handsomer you could not find; slim and graceful, with +wheaten coloured skins and perfect features."</p> + +<p>"But what about this young lady?" resumed his nephew.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she was brought up in England by this old Portuguese woman, who +died suddenly without a will. And there was nothing for this girl to do +but return to her own relations—whose existence she now discovers for +the first time!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I call it a tragedy," exclaimed Brian Salwey, "what do you say, +Aunt Liz?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I went over to-day, expecting to see another edition of Dominga +with European veneer, and discovered a pretty, refined English girl, +who has no doubt been accustomed to her maid, her carriage, her French +milliner, and any quantity of admiration. She looked completely dazed +and bewildered; I found her sisters arrayed in her best frocks, while +she held in her arms, with a terrified expression, her black baby +nephew, Chandos Montagu Jones! As I let it be clearly understood that +my visit was to Miss Verona, she came and talked to me, and they all +sat round and gaped upon us with their mouths. Her manner was perfectly +lady-like and self-possessed, but once I caught her off her guard, and +if ever I saw horror or despair in any human eyes, it was in hers! I +suppose she had no idea she was a Eurasian, till yesterday, and will, I +am convinced, run away—or do something."</p> + +<p>"And can't <i>you</i> do something, Aunt Liz?" urged Salwey.</p> + +<p>"I certainty will, if I can; but my position is extremely difficult; +I am obliged to hold myself aloof, and be friendly with none, +otherwise I should get sucked down into the raging whirlpool of Manora +politics. First, there is Mr. Chandos, sub-manager, a gentleman, +and of indisputably old English family. There are his people, all +dark Eurasians, with the exception of Dominga, her mother's idol, +whom I particularly dislike; she reminds me of a deadly mechanical +toy, harmless to look at, but ready to explode, unless handled most +delicately. Her craving for notoriety, admiration, and pleasure are +beyond all words."</p> + +<p>"Well, I must say, she is an uncommonly good-looking girl," exclaimed +Major Gale, with unexpected fervour.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes—she is handsome, I admit. Then there are the Trotters," +continued Mrs. Lepell, "pure Europeans; they despise the Chandos for +their taint of native blood; the Chandos family look down on them, +as common people—they themselves being gentry. Then there are the +dear, good old Cavalhos, and the Watkins; if I show partiality to +one family, I make the others angry and envious. I should like to +befriend that poor girl, I know she is most unhappy and desolate, for +Mr. Chandos holds himself curiously aloof from his circle, and she has +not a creature of her own class to help or to comfort her. Imagine the +change, from the petted heiress to fifteen thousand a year, to becoming +the odd daughter out, in that <i>ménage</i>."</p> + +<p>"I've no doubt she wishes she were dead," exclaimed Major Gale. "I +should if I were in her shoes. Marianna in the Moated Grange was ten +times better off."</p> + +<p>"I believe Mother Chan, as they call her, was greatly averse to her +joining the family, and for once she showed her sense," remarked Mr. +Lepell.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but the miserable creature rushed on her fate," added his wife; +"she was craving to see her own people, and, above all—her mother."</p> + +<p>"Her mother!" repeated Major Gale, with his little cackling laugh.</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Chandos himself was urgent," continued the lady, "no doubt he +hoped for 'one fair daughter.'"</p> + +<p>"The fair daughter having arrived and seen her home, if I'm not +mistaken, will never forgive him for his <i>mésalliance</i>."</p> + +<p>"Poor Chandos," exclaimed Mr. Lepell, "all through his life he has +meant well, and done ill; he has made a mull of everything—career, +profession, marriage."</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Major Gale, standing up and straightening himself, "that is +the one pitfall I have eluded."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Major Gale."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, with all respect to you, Mrs. Lepell, I am a timid man, +and there are too many blanks. It is not everyone who is so lucky as +Lepell, and draws a great prize." Here Major Gale nodded and smirked; +he was rather pleased with the manner in which he had turned this +delicate compliment. "There's early parade to-morrow, and I must +be off, Salwey," turning to the policeman, "can I give you a lift +back—you are on my road?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, no; my road is by water. I like rowing myself to and fro +these moonlight nights."</p> + +<p>"Ah, see what it is to be young and romantic!" and having made his +polite adieus, the little Major effected a brisk departure.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>"No need for <i>you</i> to move yet, Brian," urged his aunt, "on such a +night as this; I hate the idea of going to bed; I prefer to sit, and +laze, and talk, and listen."</p> + +<p>"All right, then, I'll stop for half-an-hour. Oh, I say, Uncle Tom, +I'd like to hear something more about that chap Chandos. Is it not +extraordinary, a man of his class, and who has been in the Service, +settling down here for life, with a half-caste family, and working in +the sugar factory?"</p> + +<p>"It would seem a great deal more extraordinary, if you knew as much +about him as I do," rejoined Mr. Lepell, as he lit another cheroot, +crossed his legs, and evidently prepared for narration.</p> + +<p>"Why, Tom, I never dreamt that you knew his past," exclaimed his wife. +"How <i>close</i> you have been all these years."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I was never personally acquainted with him, I merely saw +him two or three times, but I heard the story. It made rather a stir +some eight-and-twenty years ago. He is not aware that I am behind +the scenes, and I've not been anything more to him than what you +see. In the first place, he would resent any intimacy based on such +reminiscences, and, secondly, his family are quite impossible; I'd far +rather have to do with the Cavalhos than the Chandos lot, with their +pretensions and struggling and greed."</p> + +<p>"But tell us more about Mr. Chandos," reiterated his nephew. "I bar the +family, too."</p> + +<p>"Well, you would never suppose, that that thin, worn man, with a +melancholy face and downcast air, was one of the cheeriest and +best-looking fellows in the Service, and mad about balls, and racing, +and sport. When I saw him win the Cup at Lucknow, what an ovation +he got! I little anticipated the hero of that day would become my +sub-manager, and that the irresistible Adonis, in a blue satin jacket, +would develop into a haggard, gaunt automaton, in patched khaki, whose +horizon is limited to cane fields, his topics to sacks and sugar mills, +goor and fuel. A man who calls me 'sir,' and touches his hat to me +daily."</p> + +<p>"Now I understand, Tom—why you overlook his irregularity, and——"</p> + +<p>Her husband interposed with a gesture of his hand.</p> + +<p>"This Manora has proved his harbour of refuge; here he has been +anchored for eighteen years, here he will remain, till the end of the +chapter. I mean <i>his</i> chapter."</p> + +<p>"Unless the new daughter creates a revolution in the family," suggested +Salwey.</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, the family will alter her. You say," looking at his +wife, "that she is fair."</p> + +<p>"Yes, entirely a Chandos, and an aristocrat—a pure English girl."</p> + +<p>"No—no—nature takes care of that! She has her mother's blood in +her veins, her mother's example to drag her under; it will be a mere +question of—weeks."</p> + +<p>"No, not in this case, Tom," rejoined his wife with brisk decision.</p> + +<p>"Why not? My impression, after many years of life in India, is, the +fairer a Eurasian the darker their disposition. The duskier their +complexion, the whiter their hearts. For instance, compare Dominga to +Mrs. Cavalho; now <i>she</i> is a good woman, and a true lady."</p> + +<p>"Pray, why should you be so prejudiced against this new Miss Chandos, +Tom? You have not even seen her; she will be a success—of that I am +convinced."</p> + +<p>"Nothing bearing that name has ever come in the way of poor Chandos, +nothing but bad luck; he seems to be under the influence of an evil +star."</p> + +<p>"Scorpio!" suggested his nephew, "in other words, his wife."</p> + +<p>"He is a capital sub-manager," resumed Mr. Lepell, "punctual +and orderly; has wonderful command over the employees; is a fine +disciplinarian, and speaks the language like a native. Latterly, his +health is bad."</p> + +<p>"And the reason of that, is easily understood," said Brian, looking at +his uncle with significance.</p> + +<p>"Yes, God help him! he takes opium; and I'm afraid the habit is gaining +on him; he flies to it, to kill the past—aye, and the present."</p> + +<p>"Well, you may think me a brute, but I must say, I don't pity Chandos +in the least; he brought all his woes on himself by marrying a +half-caste, a low-bred Eurasian, a money-lender's daughter."</p> + +<p>"He has to thank another for his misfortunes."</p> + +<p>"Has he?" echoed his wife, in a tone of incredulity. "Well, Tom, we are +both dying to hear the history of Mr. Chandos."</p> + +<p>"It must be eight-and-twenty years since Paul Chandos came out to +India"—a pause—"and has never been home since. He had good looks, +good health, good prospects, the younger son of an old family, and +seemingly endowed with every gift, but a long purse, and the power of +uttering the word, 'No.' By all accounts, he was full of the wildest +spirits, delighted with his first taste of freedom, and his first look +at the world; and the world out here was pleased with him. He was in a +smart cavalry regiment, among a nice lot of young fellows of his own +stamp—perhaps with a little more money than he had. Still he might +have managed to hold his own, and be a happy man now—only——"</p> + +<p>"For a woman," interposed Brian Salwey.</p> + +<p>"No—only for his own cousin. Sydney Chandos was many years older than +Paul. He was on the staff out here, and brilliantly clever. He had a +splendid figure, a wonderful pair of eyes, and charming smile, but +was utterly unscrupulous and base. Thanks to his brains, and manners +of extraordinary fascination, he managed to pass himself off as not +a bad sort; a bit casual, perhaps, and fond of racing and gambling. +And in those days, I can tell you, the gambling on the Indian turf +was something to make you sit up. Well, this fellow came down to Mhow +to spend his leave with his cousin Paul, who was devoted to him, and +looked up to Sydney as superhumanly wise and great and good. The poor +lad worshipped him slavishly, and thought his idol could do no wrong. +Paul, I should say, was an orphan, who had been brought up and educated +in his cousin's home. It was not long before he fell entirely under the +influence of Sydney, who got him into his power, body and soul. 'Burra' +Chandos had, it was whispered, ruined several young fellows, but people +expected that he would spare his own cousin."</p> + +<p>"And apparently he did not," remarked Mrs. Lepell.</p> + +<p>"No, he laughed at his scruples and economies, encouraged him to play +cards and gamble; he took him about to races and lotteries—he plunged +him into debt. Then he introduced him to the money-lenders."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" ejaculated Brian, "and that naturally <i>finished</i> him?"</p> + +<p>"Your <i>bête noire</i>, eh, Brian?" said his aunt, "whom you hope to +finish!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," returned Mr. Lepell, "young Chandos backed his cousin's horses +and bills, went security for his debts, and got thoroughly entangled in +the web of Lopez, a notorious soucar of evil repute."</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand any young man, who is not an idiot, being so +completely under the thumb of a cousin!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, but you did not know that cousin, my dear sir; his cleverness +was something appalling; it was downright uncanny; his manners were +irresistible. He was a first-class horseman, a notable billiard player, +and he sang like an angel: to hear Sydney Chandos singing affecting +ballads after a big guest night, where he had been fleecing youngsters +and punishing the champagne, was enough to melt the heart of a stone! +His voice stood him in the place of an excellent moral character, and +he had the art of making you believe every word he said; in fact, his +very tones brought conviction. With all his advantages, he was one of +the worst young men who ever set foot in India. He was mixed up in a +sultry business about a race, but with his damnable art he contrived +to pass on the odium to his cousin—along with the greater portion of +his debts—and then went gaily home with a light heart, leaving his +wretched dupe to his fate! Much of this came out long afterwards, for +Chandos was dumb. He was dumb then, he is dumb now. It was suspected +in the regiment, that Paul had some secret drain on him; he had lost +his spirits and appeared to be struggling in a hopeless sea of debt; +he sold off all his ponies, he cut down his expenses, he even parted +with his watch and guns; in fact, he stripped himself bare, and yet the +mountain of debt never seemed to decrease; the interest rose up, and +up, and up like a spring tide!"</p> + +<p>"Of course; it always does," muttered Salwey.</p> + +<p>"He had sworn to his cousin to keep his bill-backing a dead secret; +he wrote to his uncle imploring assistance—this was sternly refused. +Sydney had his own story to tell of Paul's debt, and shortly afterwards +his father died. I believe the poor chap was contemplating suicide, +as the only way out of his difficulties, when, at a sergeant's ball, +he was presented to Miss Rosa Lopez. She was twenty years of age, the +belle of the evening—and by all accounts distractingly pretty."</p> + +<p>"That I decline to believe," declared Mrs. Lepell, with emphasis.</p> + +<p>"Well, you can please yourself, my dear," rejoined her husband, +"but she was handsome. Her complexion was a pale olive; her eyes, +teeth, hair, and figure, all most attractive; she danced like a +sylph, and fell madly in love with poor, unfortunate Chandos! He was +extraordinarily good-looking, and no doubt this desperate state of his +affairs, added a sort of haggard charm to his appearance. I understand +she waltzed with him half the night, and subsequently made all the +advances, daily throwing herself in his way, and writing him notes. He +was a reckless young fellow, and a chivalrous fool. He, it seemed, had +always been his aunt's good boy, and brought up under her influence; +this, which made him sensitive, quixotic, and truthful, had earned him +the secret ill-will and envy of his cousin.</p> + +<p>"By and by, it transpired that Rosa's father, Juan Lopez, was +unfortunately but too well known to Lieutenant Chandos. Miss Rosa was +an ambitious girl, strong-willed, passionate, and desperately in love +with the handsome young cavalry officer. Her father was easily enlisted +on her side, and was prevailed upon to make an offer to Rosa's lover. +He proposed to release Paul Chandos from his debts and bonds, provided +he made Rosa Lopez his wife.</p> + +<p>"At first, I am told, that Chandos indignantly refused, but every +day pressure became heavier and heavier—Rosa was so seductive +and so devoted. Chandos had taken no one into his confidence, his +debts and disgrace were not his—but another's. Vainly his brother +officers endeavoured to help him, but Chandos, the cheery and genial, +had become glum, secluded, and mute; and once or twice his friends +had been puzzled at seeing him driving in a brougham with a dark, +foreign-looking man; then, all at once the secret was out. He had +married the daughter of Lopez, the notorious money-lender—and Lopez +had cancelled his debts!"</p> + +<p>"Poor devil," muttered Salwey.</p> + +<p>"The regiment was furious, but this did not affect the happy pair, +who were spending the honeymoon in Cashmere. Of course, Chandos was +compelled to send in his papers, and within about twelve months +the police discovered a series of financial frauds, and Juan +Lopez was obliged to leave the country—that is to say, to fly to +Pondicherry—where he died.</p> + +<p>"'Chotah' Chandos was now minus a profession, and plus not only a +wife, but a mother-in-law. Another man would have bolted, and fled +to Australia; but he stood fast, and, for a time, lived in the hills, +on the sale of his commission; then, as his nursery increased, he was +forced to rouse from his apathy and look round for employment. After +being for some time on a Government stud farm, he eventually drifted +here; in fact, I heard of his plight and offered him the billet."</p> + +<p>"And what about his people at home?" inquired Mrs. Lepell.</p> + +<p>"His uncle and aunt were dead, and his other relations with one accord +washed their hands of him. When he married Rosa Lopez and left the +Service, he had figuratively cut his throat."</p> + +<p>"How does he put in his time?" inquired Salwey. "He has no associates, +for he never mixes with his equals, and shuns all soldier men like the +plague."</p> + +<p>"I think he reads a good deal, and he gardens a little, but I fancy +that his life is one long purgatory; he has nothing in common with his +household."</p> + +<p>"What an existence!" ejaculated the police officer; "perhaps the new +member will be a comfort to him?"</p> + +<p>"Cold comfort, I should say; but he may live on hope, for he is a +Chandos of Charne, and may possibly be a rich man some day. His cousin +is childless."</p> + +<p>"Do, pray, imagine Mrs. Chandos in England!" exclaimed Mrs. Lepell. +"How I should like to see her mixing in county society—mincing about +on her tip-toes, and conversing in high Chi-Chi, wouldn't you, Brian?" +turning towards her nephew, who sat with his cigar out, his hands +clasped behind his head and his eyes fixed on the distance.</p> + +<p>As he made no reply, his aunt continued:</p> + +<p>"My dear, you are in a brown study!"</p> + +<p>"If you mean that I am thinking of Mrs. Chandos—I am <i>not</i>."</p> + +<p>"Then a penny for your thoughts!"</p> + +<p>"I was thinking of that girl," he said, rising and stretching himself, +"an heiress in the beginning, a penniless Eurasian now. What will her +end be?"</p> + +<p>"Ask me that question in a year's time, and now, Brian, it is twelve +o'clock, your bark is on the tide, if you don't go soon, your bearer +will be paddling up here to know what has become of you?"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Verona was now painfully conscious that she could no longer harbour +illusions, and had begun to realise her situation, her relations and +her home. Her home, large, dark, straggling, with an atmosphere close +and airless, the handsome furniture, picked up at auctions—dead +bargains, surrounded by a deep verandah and a bushy garden, full of old +apricots, cork trees, dried-up water channels, straggling rose bushes, +beds of tomatoes and a few sickly orange trees.</p> + +<p>She understood and conformed to the daily routine of the household. +There was the scrambling breakfast at nine o'clock, at which neither +her father nor grandmother appeared. The latter partook of coffee and +"hoppers" in the seclusion of her own quarters, and busied herself +with the feeding of fine buff fowl, making coffee and condiments, and +giving audience and medicine to numbers of native visitors, chiefly +the sick and afflicted. Dominga, her red mane in two thick plaits, +wearing a dressing-gown and slippers, practised her songs, knitted +ties, wrote letters, or lay on her bed, devouring novels and bazaar +sweetmeats—such as paras and jalabies—having commandeered the sole +punkah coolie.</p> + +<p>Pussy and Nicky were unaffectedly idle, but Mrs. Chandos, on the +other hand, was feverishly busy, whisking in and out of the rooms, +herding the servants here and there, scolding every one in her high, +far-reaching falsetto. Twelve o'clock was the orthodox visiting hour, +and three days after Verona's arrival it brought Mrs. Trotter, Miss +Lizzie Trotter, Miss Georgina Louisa Trotter in all their best clothes, +to make a formal call. Mrs. Trotter, a worthy, hard-working woman, who +always declared that "she knew her place and kept to it," had a round, +flat face, resembling a bread platter, the idea being well carried out +by a toque in tussore silk.</p> + +<p>She was obviously abashed on her first introduction to the new Miss +Chandos, and stared at her with genuine surprise, but Susan Trotter +very soon rallied and found her tongue, and taking a good grip of her +self-possession, began:</p> + +<p>"You and I, Verona——"</p> + +<p>Verona started.</p> + +<p>"——have more in common than all the other members of your family—as +we have both been in England; I," she bridled, "of course was born +there," and she looked round the room. "You," to Verona, "were born out +here—whereabouts?"</p> + +<p>Verona glanced at her mother interrogatively.</p> + +<p>"Oh—in Murree," she answered sharply, then exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"My! whatt a long time since Mrs. Trotter has been in England; she will +not know it as you do, Verona. Twenty-five years, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," assented Mrs. Trotter with obvious reluctance.</p> + +<p>"So Lizzie was born at home? And that makes her at least twenty-seven," +and Mrs. Chandos closed her eyes, as much as to say "I have scored."</p> + +<p>"Lizzie is twenty-six next birthday; she looks just as young as +Dominga, but that is because she is English."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you were awfully gay in England?" said Lizzie, now +addressing Verona for the first time.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but we lived chiefly abroad," replied Verona.</p> + +<p>"And in grand, smart society," announced Mrs. Chandos; "princes and +dukes and all that sort of thing."</p> + +<p>"There is not much of that sort of thing out here; you will only know +the railway people, and contractors and such like," remarked Mrs. +Trotter. "I suppose London is a good deal changed since I was there; I +remember going in the Underground and thinking it so wonderful."</p> + +<p>"That is an old story now," rejoined Verona with a smile; "there is the +Tube."</p> + +<p>"And the Crystal Palace and Madame Trousseaux's" (she meant Tussaud's), +"with the murderers in the basement. What a sight!—Oh!" with a start, +"here is Mrs. Watkin; I thought she was coming, for I saw her ayah +shaking out her best dress—so now I will go, as at present we do not +speak."</p> + +<p>Enter Mrs. Watkin, a young woman, pale, very stiff, and smartly +dressed. She stared at Verona with cold inquisitive eyes, and chiefly +confined her conversation to the climate. The lady was—as Pussy +had hinted, "stuck up," but although there was some conversation +with respect to flowers, she had no opportunity to introduce the two +gardeners.</p> + +<p>A proper sequel to these morning calls was a visit to Blanche in the +afternoon. Mrs. Chandos excused herself, but Verona and Pussy started +off in the victoria to spend a happy afternoon in Rajahpore!</p> + +<p>The residence of Mrs. Montagu-Jones was a trim little red brick +bungalow, with a shallow verandah, covered with purple railway creeper. +Everything looked precisely as it was—or had been—cheap; everywhere +was evident, audacious apings at style and at fashion; everywhere the +ugly adjective "makeshift" obtruded itself with heartless prominence. +There were scrimpy cretonne curtains in the windows; sixpenny fans and +brackets on the walls; unreliable flounced cane chairs, a gaudy Europe +carpet and many rickety tables crowded the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>Quite a number of guests had been specially invited to meet Miss Verona +Chandos at tea, and ladies connected with the railway, commissariat and +telegraph departments were well to the fore; smart, dark young men, +slender and effusive; gaily dressed women, their faces covered with +powder and reeking of sickly scents.</p> + +<p>As Verona looked round the company she asked herself what she would +have thought of this society a year ago? Of Mrs. De Castros, in a black +crêpe hat trimmed with poppies, who drank loudly from her saucer, +and put her tongue out at a friend; of Mistress Thomas, elaborately +painted, wearing a very low white gown and a transparent blouse; of +young Braganza Brown, the beau of the party, in a florid waistcoat +with silver buttons, and a pink satin tie, scented and oiled like some +ancient Roman dandy. Pussy was undoubtedly in her element, and giggled +and talked incessantly, for she was a social favourite.</p> + +<p>"Fie! For shame! Pussee, whatt a noise you are making," expostulated +Blanche. "Do be quiet."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Pussy," cried a girl, leaning over and addressing herself to her, +"Dom is too grand to look at me now; she is always in the station; they +say she will marry an officer. Whatt do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Aré Bap! don't ask me," cried Pussy; "ask Dom."</p> + +<p>"But I dare not. I hear Dom will sing at the concert," resumed the +girl; "we shall all go and hear her, and pay eight annas. Whatt a +voice; where <i>did</i> she get it? where does she keep it?"</p> + +<p>"But I do not like it," interposed Ada Diaz; "it is so big, it hurts my +head; and tell us, Pussy, who is the little officer so awfully in love +with Dom?"</p> + +<p>"I believe it is quite a case!" added another uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," said Pussy, helping herself to sweets. "There is +often some one in love with her, but she is so hard to please; she has +such grand notions."</p> + +<p>On the other hand Blanche was saying:</p> + +<p>"Mother has so many engagements; she is going to buy another horse; one +was enough for <i>me</i>, but she never grudges anything for Dominga; every +one knows thatt. Now, Verona, do you come along; we are going to the +railway tennis ground, and Mr. Bott wants you to play with him."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bott, a stout dark man, was the chief guest—and perfectly alive +to his own importance. As Blanche pulled her sister's sleeve, she +whispered, with a smothered giggle:</p> + +<p>"Five hundred rupees a month! He is baby's godfather, but you may marry +him if you like!" and she pushed Verona before her.</p> + +<p>What an afternoon it had been—of pretension and make-believe, of civil +speeches and staring eyes, of long whispers and sidelong looks, and of +warm invitations, and strokings and flattery and painfully sustained +effort.</p> + +<p>Verona was thankful when she and Pussy were at last ushered to the +overworked victoria and driven home along the flat, white road to the +sequestered bungalow in Manora; which now appeared to the miserable +pleasure-goer a veritable harbour of refuge.</p> + +<p>The morning succeeding this dissipation, found Verona lying on her +bed racked with a headache and fever; she was unable to rise, and lay +prone, fervently hoping that she was going to be very ill and die. In +the midst of these miserable reflections, Pussy burst in to announce:</p> + +<p>"Rona, this is Sunday; we cannot all fit into the victoria, but you and +Dominga and mother must go to the cantonment church; there is a grand +parade—you will see the officers!"</p> + +<p>"I cannot stir," protested Verona; "my head aches so dreadfully."</p> + +<p>"Ah," coming over and taking her hand, "so you have fever. Now I wonder +how you got thatt?" (By midnight rambling on the river banks when the +air was full of mist and malaria.)</p> + +<p>For two long days Verona remained in her room, her head burning, +her bones racked with pain. She was driven nearly distraught by +affectionate Pussy's well-meant attendance and tireless chatter, by +Dominga, who sat upon the bed and poured forth a stream of questions +(questions respecting dress, deportment, hair-dressing, letter-writing, +and the manners and customs of society at home); by Nicky, whose +carpentering was close at hand, and by the ceaseless barking of the +Trotters' pariah.</p> + +<p>On the third night she got up—finding herself alone—put on a +dressing-gown and slippers, and staggered about the room; then she +tottered out to contemplate the river.</p> + +<p>Oh, how cool it looked! And she was burning—her veins ran fire. How +delightful to slip into it, and thus end her life; she was useless now +to herself—or any one. From her former existence she was separated by +a great gulf; her new existence was intolerable. To her relations she +was an encumbrance, and to her they were a nightmare.</p> + +<p>She stole further and stared about her. There was the light in the +office window; between it and her a stooping head. The recent rains had +filled the Jurra to its brim. As it flowed past muttering to itself +in the moonlight it looked most enticing. The river spirit seemed to +whisper in her ear with seductive, rippling murmur:</p> + +<p>"Come with me! Come with me!"</p> + +<p>Only a little choking feeling and all would be over! Drowning, people +said, was such an easy death. "Why wait?" urged the rippling river; in +two minutes from this very time, she might be elsewhere, safely landed +on the other shore. She must cross the River of Death sometime—why +not now? It would not be wrong; on the contrary, it would be a blessed +relief to every one, including herself. Oh, why should people speak of +suicide with bated breath and horror?</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is not wrong," she said aloud; "God knows all. He will forgive +me. God pardon me and give me rest," she exclaimed, and raising her +arms, she stepped down to the water's brink; suddenly a boat shot up +close to the steps, a white figure rose before her, a firm, peremptory +hand was laid on her wrist.</p> + +<p>"Surely you would not bathe at this hour?" remonstrated a man's voice.</p> + +<p>She drew a long, shuddering breath and moaned:</p> + +<p>"Oh, let me go! Let me go!"</p> + +<p>"Are you not afraid of the crocodiles?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Crocodiles," she stammered, and began to laugh; "crocodile, no, it's +in my dressing bag!"</p> + +<p>"You must go back to the house at once, and promise to remain there," +continued the stranger authoritatively. "Your arm is burning—you have +fever."</p> + +<p>"But, who are you?" she asked; "are you the Angel of Death? Is this +the boat to take me over? Oh, I am so thankful you have come," and she +gazed into his face, her eyes ablaze with fever. "Oh, Angel of Death, I +am not afraid; let us go," and she prepared to enter the boat. "Let us +go now."</p> + +<p>"No, no, no!" protested Salwey, in a voice so persuasive and gentle +as to sound like that of another person. "I cannot take you over this +time; the current is too strong."</p> + +<p>"Oh, do, please; I cannot stay. Oh! I cannot wait!" and she wept and +wrung her hands with a gesture of frantic despair. "Well, then I must +go alone," and as she spoke, she thrust him aside with all her feeble +might.</p> + +<p>It was not often that Brian Salwey found himself in such a +dilemma—although it was by no means the first time that he had +indirectly represented the Angel of Death. If he left this distracted +girl in order to seek for assistance she would drown herself without +a doubt. After considerable delay and many solemn and astounding lies +he induced her to believe that he truly was the Angel Azrael and would +return for her, without fail, on the following evening. Having made +this soothing and mendacious promise he "charmed so wisely" that he +prevailed upon Verona to re-enter her room. He then fastened the door +outside, in a makeshift fashion, with his handkerchief and necktie, and +ran at the top of his speed in order to summon his aunt.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Mrs. Lepell was about to retire for the night when her nephew, almost +breathless, dashed into the verandah.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what is it?" she asked, "Dacoits, or fire?"</p> + +<p>"It is that girl, Aunt Liz, Miss Chandos, she was going to throw +herself into the river; you were quite right when you said she would do +something. As I was going home, I noticed her on the bank carrying on +in a rum sort of way, and tossing her arms about. So I rowed up pretty +close, and was just in time to stop her from jumping into the water. +I have persuaded her to return to her room, on the sole understanding +that I am the Angel of Death, and am coming to fetch her to-morrow. I +want you to hurry over at once—this moment—and get someone to look +after her."</p> + +<p>"Why, of course, I'll go myself."</p> + +<p>In another moment Mrs. Lepell was calling for her cloak and shoes, and +she and her nephew were running—followed by an ayah and a peon—in the +direction of Chandos Koti.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>A visit from Mrs. Lepell at twelve o'clock at night! Was the world +coming to an end?</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chandos appeared fully dressed, alert, and lamp in hand, to be +informed that her daughter Verona had been wandering on the river bank +in a high fever, quite off her head!</p> + +<p>"Oh, Madre di Dios! Whatt a trouble that girl does give," and she put +down the lamp and threw up her hands, "whatt a bother! and trouble."</p> + +<p>"You should see to her at once, there is not a moment to be lost," +urged Mrs. Lepell, "or shall I go?"</p> + +<p>"No; oh, I will go, you wait here."</p> + +<p>Presently Mrs. Chandos returned and calmly announced to the couple in +the verandah that "it was arl-right, Verona could come to no harm, for +she lay on the floor in a dead faint."</p> + +<p>"Shall I go into Rajahpore for the doctor," suggested young Salwey.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chandos looked at him quickly—one swift glance of irrepressible +hate.</p> + +<p>"No, no, no!" she replied, "my mother knows all the fever cures, it is +only that the girl is out from home, and not accustomed to the climate. +It is nothing but the bad season and the rains. In a few days she will +be arl-right. Thank you so much. Good-night," and with a wave of her +lantern, and an abrupt nod, the two good Samaritans found themselves +somewhat cavalierly dismissed.</p> + +<p>In spite of her mother's cheering diagnosis, for days Verona lay at +the point of death; indeed, she certainly would have died, but for +the valuable offices of old Mrs. Lopez, who thrust Mrs. Chandos and +her daughters out of the sick room, and took the duties of nurse upon +herself.</p> + +<p>What a pitiful object the poor girl looked, with her sunken cheeks, +lips cracked with fever, and cumbersome masses of dark hair. Now she +moved her head from side to side, beating her burning hands upon the +counterpane, muttering and moaning—often in a foreign tongue.</p> + +<p>It was some time before the concoctions of her grandmother brought +Verona round—these were simples of her own manufacture, and in the +end proved efficacious. The good woman imported her charpoy into a +corner of Verona's room, and scarcely left her patient night and day. +In fierce and fluent Hindustani she kept the entire family at bay, and +by and by, having no other company, Verona came to know and love her +unwieldy, old, half-caste "Nani." As she lay there convalescent in the +dim light, Mrs. Lopez unfolded to her ear many a curious Indian tale; +but occasionally the conversation was of a more personal description.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I know you are not content," said Nani, "for it is all so +strange now, but you are young, and you will be gay enough yet. Fill +your life with good deeds, and that will make you happy. Once upon +a time I, too, was miserable; now, I am so busy with other folks' +troubles, I have no time to think of my own; when I was young, I was +married to Lopez, the money-lender. I was very pretty. Oh, you will +laugh, but it was true! I had yards of red hair like Dominga, and good +eyes. Then when I grew fat and ugly, Lopez no longer cared for me; all +his thought was of money—money—money—always. He used to lend to +the young officers, and the Zemindars, and the bazaar people. But he +was never satisfied with what he got—and he got much—he was always +reaching—reaching—reaching after more. Rosa, your mother, would be +like him, if she had the rupees; oh, she is so fond of accounts and +business. Lily, my other girl, was quite different—but she is dead. +Ah! that was my great sorrow. Sometimes, when I looked at you lying +there, so seek, with your black hair, thin hands, and white face, I +could have thought it was my own poor Lily. I think that is why I talk +to you, and—tell you things. Lily was very soft and gentle, not clever +and quick like your mother, who always knows what she wants—and <i>will</i> +get it. She says I am too friendly with native people, and the ayah, +but, why not? They are all flesh and blood, and some of them are <i>so</i> +good."</p> + +<p>"Yes," assented her listener, languidly, "are they?"</p> + +<p>"Now, there is the ayah, for instance, Zorah; she had a husband, and +slaved hard for him, and had beautiful gold jewels, and brass cooking +pots, and money, for she was always working, working, working. Then she +went to England, with a lady, for two or three months, and when she +came back—now, what do you think? That good-for-nothing man had run +away with all her things, and married another wife! and so she had to +begin life over again. She is old now, and very poor indeed; all she +had in the world was a silver chain. A niece of hers was ill-treated +by her husband's family—because she had no children, so they beat +her, and starved her—and made her a slave. And Zorah sold her silver +chain, and went and brought her here from a long way off, a journey +costing twenty rupees, and keeps her; and all she has is five rupees a +month—now, would you or I do that?"</p> + +<p>"I expect <i>you</i> would, grandmother."</p> + +<p>"You, too, if you had the money; you have the generous eyes. I am +sorry you gave your gold to Abdul Buk; I do not trust him, but in your +mother's opinion he is great and wise; she and I sometimes do not like +the same people. For instance, I like Salwey, the police officer; he +is a just man, and lives a good life; he is kind to Nicky and takes +notice of that poor boy; but your mother hates him more than anyone in +the whole world, I think. She says he is her enemy. I cannot understand +that. But if that is true, 'Better a wise enemy, than a foolish +friend,' is it not so?"</p> + +<p>"But why is he her enemy?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, I cannot tell you. It must be a secret between her and him. I +know that some of the city people have an ill-will to Salwey—he +lives among foes, like a tongue among teeth." Just at this moment the +door was dashed violently open, and Mrs. Chandos, followed by Dominga +and Nicky, entered the room without ceremony. "There has been a +robbery," announced Mrs. Chandos, who was evidently in a condition of +extraordinary excitement.</p> + +<p>"Not of fowl?" cried Mrs. Lopez, struggling to her feet.</p> + +<p>"No," burst in Nicky, "all Verona's things—her jewellery, I mean."</p> + +<p>"Now why you come telling these tales now, while the poor girl is so +seek?" cried her grandmother, "go away, all of you—go away."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I must tell her!" said Mrs. Chandos, turning to Verona, "I +locked up that bag, you know, in the press in the Dufta. Just now +I go; the lock is not broken, but the top is off the press—and the +jewellery is stolen out of the bag."</p> + +<p>"All?"</p> + +<p>"Well, the gold watch and chain, the bangles and rings, and the +beautiful necklace. Oh! my! my! my!" and she put her hands to her head. +"What villains people are! Whatt wickedness! Whatt shall I do?"</p> + +<p>"Send for the police," suggested Verona, in a weak whisper.</p> + +<p>"Pah! the police!" cried Mrs. Chandos, "they are torturers and +murderers—if you wait for them you will never see your things. They +come—they walk about—they stare, then they take away the servants; +they pull the men's beards, they pinch the women, they make all to eat +sweetmeats, which cause awful thirst, and give no water, till they +confess—lies. Che-a-ah! the police!" and she paused breathless.</p> + +<p>"Then get a magic wallah," suggested Nani, "they are clever and good, +and give no trouble."</p> + +<p>"The police are very sharp now," urged Nicky, "they have discovered +lots of things, thanks to Salwey. Why not have Salwey up? I will go and +fetch him!"</p> + +<p>"Salwey!" screamed his mother, "who asks your advice?—and the milk +not dry on your lips. Send for Salwey"—and she looked around her +fiercely—"I would just as soon send for the devil!" and with this +formidable announcement, she quitted the room.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The rains were unusually late, and continued unabated till to the end +of September, with brief intervals of steamy heat. It was owing to this +circumstance that the "new Miss Chandos," as she was called, was such +a long time recovering her strength: in spite of her grandmother's +unflagging attendance, she appeared to have arrived at a certain +point of convalescence and there stuck fast. Sickness had brought an +obliteration of her troubles, but she was still sunk in a gulf of +weakness.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lopez plied her with her most potent remedies (she was acquainted +with some of the subtle herbs and invaluable native secrets unknown +to the European pharmacopœia), and several of her hitherto infallible +charms, without any obvious result. The truth was that the old woman +had to contend with the young girl's will—Verona had no desire to +recover. One afternoon as she lay in a sort of apathetic languor, +listening to the rain streaming down the gutters, pouring on the stone +verandah and beating on the big banana leaves with a steady "Drum, +drum, drum," her Nani entered a little wet and out of breath, carrying +some small object in her hand.</p> + +<p>"Aré! Bai! see what I have got for thee! a baby squirrel to keep thee +company. We found him just now, washed out of the nest; all his sisters +and brothers are drowned, but the life is yet in him."</p> + +<p>As she spoke Nani unfolded a morsel of red flannel and proudly +displayed a half-drowned squirrel (it looked like the proverbial rat). +She was about to hand it to Verona, who drew back with an instinctive +shudder, but when two little black eyes, full of terror, met her own, +she took the creature and proceeded to dry it very gently, and then +cover up the small, shivering body.</p> + +<p>"Oh, ho! we will call him 'Johnny,' and make him a pet," announced +Nani, who presently fetched a bit of sponge and some warm milk +and proceeded to feed him. She was wonderfully expert in rearing +nondescript orphans, such as kids, kittens and young parrots.</p> + +<p>Warmed and fed, Johnny crept up the sleeve of Verona's flannel jacket, +and there slept the sleep of exhausted infancy. For the first day or +two he was weakly and timid, and whenever he was startled immediately +sought refuge up Verona's sleeve! But he throve; he was promoted from +a bit of sponge to an egg-spoon and a morsel of rice, and in a short +time Johnny began to realise himself, to flit about the room, to dress +his fur and to take an interest in his personal appearance! And Johnny +gave Verona something to think of, and attract her thoughts outwards; +he did her ten times more good than her grandmother's most warranted +charm. She and Johnny had something in common; and when she felt the +forlorn little animal trembling in her sleeve, she recognised that here +was a fellow sufferer, who, like herself, was despairing and desolate +in the midst of unfamiliar surroundings. Verona and Johnny became fast +friends; at the sound of her call he would dart to her side, no matter +how absorbing his occupation. He was seeing the great big world for the +first time from the splendid vantage ground of a back verandah!</p> + +<p>Nani—as already mentioned—slept in her granddaughter's room. She +also not infrequently took her meals there, and her manner of eating +was a complete revelation to the beholder, who never wearied of the +spectacle. Nani loved curry and rice—oh, such curry and rice as +never was tasted on sea or shore in the Western hemisphere! The meal +was served in two bowls—the curry, consisting of pieces of meat or +fowl, thick rich yellow gravy, charged with all manner of spices and +condiments, <i>so</i> hot. Verona once ventured to taste a mouthful, and the +result was a gasping, a spluttering, and several irrepressible tears. +For here was the real true and only curry (no English make-believe), +but such as was eaten by the natives on the West Coast. One bowl +contained the notable comestible, and the other was filled with flaky +rice. Into the curry Mrs. Lopez plunged a plump and eager hand, seized +a morsel, then she dipped the same hand into the rice; in a moment it +became a neat and shapely ball; the next instant it had disappeared for +ever in her mouth.</p> + +<p>Nani continued the process until both bowls were empty, not a trace of +curry or even a grain of rice remained. It was all assimilated with +extraordinary dexterity and despatch. When the meal had ended and the +bowls had been removed, Nani would declare:</p> + +<p>"After such food one can seat oneself like a king! Now, that is how we +are intended to eat; it is the best way, and see, I make no mess—no +more than you and your bread and butter. I can use a knife and fork as +well as any one, but the fingers are best. Wash them, and there is no +trouble. Some day you will like it too, child."</p> + +<p>But Verona only shook her head and smiled incredulously.</p> + +<p>"How old are you, Nani?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Not so old as you think—about sixty-three, and how life flies. 'It is +as a swift horse passing a crevice,' so says the proverb. It seems but +yesterday, and I was young."</p> + +<p>"You must have seen some strange things, Nani."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yess; thatt is so," assented Mrs. Lopez, with gentle deliberation.</p> + +<p>"What sort of things—do tell me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I have seen an enchanted well; this is true, true, true. No +matter how the water failed, it was always full. When the rains came it +remained just as before—never overflowed, the water always stopping +in the same place. All the learned people see it and marvel. I have +also seen a Mahommedan missionary preaching in the city to a crowd +of English soldiers; also I have seen strange people in the bazaar +too—Europeans who became natives, and forgot their own speech and +country."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Nani—no!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is true, especially in the old days. Some went into the bazaar +and they never came out. I remember one—oh, such a fine, straight, +strong man; he was a tent lascar and Mahommedan, at seven rupees a +month. People thought he was a Punjaubi—he was so fair—but I knew he +was an Englishman by his eyes. He came from a place called York-shire. +He had a pretty wife—a lascar's daughter. He was happy. Oh, yess."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember the Mutiny, Nani?"</p> + +<p>"Why not, when I was twenty years of age, and married? We were in +Bombay, then."</p> + +<p>"And you saw nothing of it?"</p> + +<p>"Truly I did, child; for four months after the massacre, I, who speak +to you, stood within the Bee-Bee Ghur itself."</p> + +<p>"What was that?"</p> + +<p>"Whatt! You not know? the ladies' house in Cawnpore, the bungalow where +the butchers cut them to pieces."</p> + +<p>"Why were you there, Nani?"</p> + +<p>"Child, you may ask! Lopez had business up country; in those days he +took me about, for he was proud of me. He stopped at Cawnpore—he had +an agent there, and he wanted to see the bungalow, 'the ladies' house', +where two of his own cousins were there murdered. Oh, yess, and so we +went; such a common old shabby place—just two large rooms. We went +in—many were there too, talking in whispers. The walls—oh, I wept +when I looked—they were covered with writing, prayers and bits of +hymns and loving messages and good-byes and names. Yes, the walls were +white once; but oh, Bapré Bap! such awful splashes, and high up in one +place, the full mark of a great red hand; and the floor—though all +washed, looked black. The room seemed damp and full of horrors and fear +and death. Oh no, no, I could not stay, like Lopez! No! no! no! in two +minutes I had run out, and there before me was the well. Yes, they were +all down there, and the top was bricked over. I could scarcely see for +crying, but I hid away behind a little wall and fell down. Oh, I could +not help it, and prayed for those souls, so cruelly, cruelly put to +death. My child, I did not get over that day for long years; it haunts +me now. As I speak to you, I can see it, and staring out at me from the +wall, the—hand—the—butcher's hand!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Nani—don't!" protested her listener. "I can almost see it too!"</p> + +<p>"Well, we will not talk of that time any more, for in my veins I have +both the blood of those who killed at Cawnpore, and those who blew them +from the guns. My grandfather was an English officer, and we—we will +say no more. Let there be peace. Let us try and forget—and for a sick +child such talk is not good." Nani paused and remained silent for some +time. Then she said abruptly:</p> + +<p>"But see, here is the crystal!"</p> + +<p>As she uttered the word "crystal," she drew from some mysterious +receptacle an article resembling a glass paperweight.</p> + +<p>"Now I will tell your fortune!"</p> + +<p>"What is the use, Nani? It is told," protested Verona, wearily.</p> + +<p>"What nonsense, child!" looking at her sharply; "the best part of your +life is to come."</p> + +<p>Her granddaughter gave a faint, incredulous laugh.</p> + +<p>"No, do not speak one word. I must look and be quiet for an hour. I +have to fix my mind."</p> + +<p>Verona, thus silenced, summoned Johnny to play with her. He was a +pretty little fellow, the ordinary verandah squirrel of India—grey, +with a broad brown stripe down his back. He came at once, and sat on +the table beside her, and trimmed his whiskers. Presently he crept +into his old quarters—her sleeve—where he lay motionless for a long +time; perhaps he knew that the fate of his beloved lady was at that +particular moment trembling in the balance; perhaps he was merely +sleepy, being still a baby.</p> + +<p>"Aré! Aré! whatt this is arl about I cannot say," proclaimed Nani after +an hour's silent contemplation. "I have seen strange things, child, +and a change that is coming to you—not death, not marriage. You look +at me—I see your face, and it smiles and—fades. No, no, no; it is of +no use! Yet this is a lucky day, and the omens are good. I met this +morning first thing, Mrs. Trotter—a mother of sons—what could be +better?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Nani—I have no luck."</p> + +<p>"Well, you have something—I cannot understand; a veil hangs over your +future. Now with Dom it is so easy, and Dom believes in the ink-pool of +the crystal."</p> + +<p>"Does she?"</p> + +<p>"To her you see it tells of a great uplifting—she stands with a light +around her. This may mean one of two things—a place above others, or +a violent death. Dom is a strange creature—she has strange blood in +her veins. She is all for herself. Only you notice, Dom will say: 'So +and so, he likes me'; 'there's So and so, she adores me'; but never 'I +like this one, or that one.' Dom likes only Dom," and Nani nodded with +melancholy emphasis.</p> + +<p>"She has a handsome, witch-like face, and such a clever head—but of +whatt use here, I say to myself. What avails a mirror to a blind man? +She can never go beyond Manora—no? She will marry into the railway, +like Blanche, for all her cravings."</p> + +<p>"Nani, I wonder why my father ever came here?"</p> + +<p>"Because he had no choice, child."</p> + +<p>"You remember him as a young man?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course. I remember as yesterday when I saw him. Oh, so +handsome and straight, and fair—who would think it now? And Rosa, she +was dying for him. Oh, she <i>would</i> have him! What she wills ever comes +to pass. It were better she had never seen him. It is not always lucky +to have one's wishes granted—and the omens were bad. His cousin's +debts chained him here, but his heart was in Europe. All his thoughts +are there still—he changeth not. You know the proverb—'Bury a dog's +tail for twenty years, it will still be crooked.'"</p> + +<p>"Why is he always so sad—and silent, Nani?"</p> + +<p>"I know not the very truth, but often have I said to him:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">'Gaiety is the support of the body,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But sadness makes it to grow old.'</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>You too are sad, always, child. Why is it so? Come, now tell your old +Nani?"</p> + +<p>Verona made no reply, but hid her face in her hands, and shuddered +convulsively from time to time. Johnny, vaguely alarmed, ran down her +sleeve, peeped out and fled; but not a moment too soon—for the second +time in his short life he had escaped a deluge! On this occasion—of +tears. Bodily weakness, weariness, misery caused this sudden outbreak, +to the amazement and alarm of Nani; and despite her expostulations and +ejaculations, Verona wept till she sank into a sort of stupor, and so +passed into the land of dreams.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</h2> +</div> + + +<p>We have seen how Verona was affected by her relations, it now remains +to exhibit the other side of the shield and to describe her relations, +and how they were affected by Verona.</p> + +<p>First of all, Paul Chandos, her father. To him her society—little +as he appeared to appreciate it—was a pure and unalloyed delight. +During many years he had acquired the habit of silence, and although +sufficiently fluent in the factory, at home he was a dumb man; whilst +Verona was pained and mortified by his still tongue, on his side (as +he gave her his wistful yet stealthy attention) he was conscious of +inexpressible happiness. Here beside him sat the embodiment of his +lost youth, lost ideals, aye, and it might have been his lost love! +The sound of the girl's high-bred accent, the delicate shape of her +face, her air of repose and refinement, recalled the tender grace of +a day that was dead, and the sound of a voice that was still. Still, +as far as he was concerned—never whilst he lived would it again fall +on his ears. Nevertheless, he kept, from sheer force of habit, all +this enjoyment to himself, and his pale, unhappy daughter had not the +faintest reason to suppose that for him, she had momentarily swung back +the gates of the Elysian fields. When Paul Chandos had realised his +cousin's infamy, and beheld him as he was—a cruel, base, unprincipled +wretch—the result was a shock, which morally stunned him for the +remainder of his days. On the altar, before his cousin Sydney, he had +laid all that was best in his disposition—Faith, Hope, Charity—but a +fire had ascended and reduced his offering to ashes. The horror of this +experience had almost turned his brain.</p> + +<p>As soon as Sydney had succeeded his father in the family estates, Paul +had written him a letter, indited, so to speak, in his heart's blood—a +letter reminding him of debts, dues, and of solemn vows, and imploring +him, for the sake of his dead mother, to extend a hand and draw him +out of the pit of despair—a pit into which Sydney had plunged him. To +this, Captain Chandos (late Blue Light Lancers), D.L., of Charne Hall, +Flatshire and Charlton Terrace, replied:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—You have disgraced your family by your abominable +marriage—we look upon you as dead. Further communications will be +destroyed unread.</p> + +<p class="ph2">"Yours faithfully,<br> +"<span class="smcap">S. Chandos</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>Thus Paul had sacrificed himself to pay his cousin's debts—and +especially one old debt, not entered in any ledger—the debt of +jealousy. The late Mrs. Chandos had been passionately attached to her +orphan nephew; he was her darling, and she had "understood" her son.</p> + +<p>At one time, the unhappy victim had contemplated making a desperate +effort for release, of going home (steerage) and appealing to his +relations—and the law.</p> + +<p>"But of what use?" urged despair. "The debts were in his own name—the +rope was round his neck; his hands were bound—it was exile for life."</p> + +<p>The unfortunate man gradually realised that he had no choice but to +settle down and make the best of his lot. By degrees he had grown +terribly apathetic, and, also, he had become bitterly ashamed of his +family. Nevertheless, he toiled for them incessantly, like an ox in +a sugar mill, but now and then human nature asserted itself, and the +miserable automaton felt that he must have some relief—or succumb. +He was not a human being, but a mechanism under a pith helmet. Paul +Chandos found his sole consolation in dreams. Occasionally he read +in the papers the names of former associates, his school-fellows and +brother officers. Oh, how he envied them! One was a famous soldier, +another a diplomatist, a third a writer—and what was he?—a worm, +and no man. With abject horror he shrank instinctively from whatever +recalled his former profession; he never entered the cantonment, and +the chance sound of a gun, the sight of a mounted officer clanking +by, was like the sudden pressure on some aching nerve. With respect +to his domestic affairs, he both hated and feared his wife—precisely +as a captive animal hates and fears a cruel keeper. She was strong, +and he felt himself to be helpless. His daughter Dominga inspired him +with a peculiar mixture of mystification and awe. Pussy he was fond +of—also of poor Nicky, his son and heir, and of dear old Nani Lopez. +According to her lights she was an upright, good creature; but Blanche, +figuratively, set his teeth on edge, and even the sleek and fawning +Monty, filled him with a sense of unchristian repulsion.</p> + +<p>When he surveyed Blanche and Dom, as they leant across the table +bawling at one another, Paul Chandos breathed an inward prayer, that +in a future state his relations would neither recognise nor claim him. +He had a secret—those little dark-brown pills, which a trusty native +apothecary prepared. The secret was called "opium"; he took it in order +to dream, and to banish misery and care; and the gracious alchemy of +the drug transmuted his poor surroundings like an enchanter's wand. +Once more he was at home in England.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>To Mrs. Chandos, her new daughter had proved an agreeable surprise. +She was quiet, subdued even, and had exhibited, so far, no airs. The +girl had a simple way of doing things, and the grace and composure of +a great lady; this endowment would prove invaluable to her family, and +was bound to open the doors of cantonment society. Rosa Chandos had +her secret. She loved money—she hungered for it, as a ravenous animal +craves for food—and money came in ample supply; yet her appetite was +never appeased. She was that truly despicable character—a money-lender +to the poor, sheltering her personality behind the broad proportions +of her agent, Abdul Buk, who found in his employer the true daughter +of the horse leech, and of Lopez, the soucar. No one suspected Mrs. +Chandos; her business—which was enormous—was termed, "the love of +figures" and collecting rents. She was a capital accountant, and had a +marvellous head for a certain class of finance. The wretched woman was +torn by two conflicting passions, both inborn and hereditary; these +were the love of money, and the love of display—fellow inmates of her +mind, and yet inveterate foes.</p> + +<p>To Pussy, Verona represented a revelation, and she was figuratively on +her knees before her sweet, English sister. And pretty Pussy, too, had +her secret—there was a certain young Alonzo Diaz on the railway, to +whom she had given her tender heart. Each time she went into Rajahpore +pretty Pussy adorned herself with gaudy ribbons, and with anxious care, +in the fond hope of meeting Alonzo; and she always carried a packet of +"conversation" lozenges in her pocket, in order (should opportunity +offer, and her mother's attention be diverted) to squeeze one into his +hot, limp hand. Oh, Pussy! who would have thought it of you? Artful +little Pussy! And what of the girl curled up luxuriously on a long cane +chair, with cushions heaped behind her, and her eyes half closed?</p> + +<p>Dominga—the Lal Billi, or Red Cat—was a power in her own family—a +power which stood behind the throne ever since she had been a +passionate infant, a delicate child, and a precocious little girl, in +a long pig tail. Her mother adored her, and denied her nothing. Before +she had cut her second teeth, Dominga knew exactly what she wanted—and +secured it; and when at the age of twelve years (having mastered the +knowledge of many curious things), she had clamoured to be sent like +Pussy to a hill school, there to complete her education, her wish was +immediately gratified.</p> + +<p>Mark the difference between the sisters! Good-natured, giggling Pussy +had left the establishment with a very small mental equipment. She +could write a love-note,—with many ill-spelt adjectives, lavishly +underscored; she could dance, crochet, do her hair, and make delicious +cocoanut toffee; but she was as ignorant in her way as any Pahareen +(hill woman), toiling under her load of baggage up the Ghât. But Pussy +left behind her, as she went down, not a few devoted friends and many +weeping eyes. Dominga, when it came to her turn to depart, not one; +but she carried away a supply of information sufficient to flavour her +conversation, and enable her to pose as "well informed." She wrote a +fine hand, had worked hard at her singing, and imbibed some knowledge +of history. Not only could she fix the date of the battle of Hastings, +but of the battles of Pavia, Malplaquet, and Bunker Hill. She enjoyed +reading realistic descriptions of the time of Nero, and the sack of +Rome; the massacre of St. Bartholomew, and the Reign of Terror. Her +taste leaned to horrors, and she would have gone miles at any time to +witness (surreptitiously) an execution! Dominga had her secrets—one +was a whole live ambition! she ardently desired to shake off Manora and +all her family, and to go forth into the world, there to shine alone. +Although amazingly talkative, she was extremely reserved as to her +own plans; no one guessed at her aim—an aim she never once permitted +herself to lose sight of—its name was "emancipation."</p> + +<p>At sixteen years of age, her doting mother had summoned Dominga from +school, and she was launched upon society at a railway ball (the +same at which Monty had proposed for Blanche). Dom was a born flirt, +extremely lively, and indeed so vivacious that she invariably created +a sensation. She imagined that it was "smart" and "up-to-date" to +be loud and noisy (an enemy at Naini Tal had told her this thing); +consequently, she ruined her best prospects by establishing a +reputation for being rowdy, and bad form. She threw things at supper, +and sat on the edge of a refreshment table, dangling her legs, +screaming repartees, and making an uproarious clamour. Thus she brought +herself into immediate notice and ill-repute. But shrewd Dominga had +long discovered that this pose was a calamitous mistake—a false step +she could never repair. She had actually gone out of her way to destroy +her own social chances. Then she was frightfully handicapped by the +Jones family—not merely by Blanche and Monty, but by his horde of +connections, and she was compelled to foregather with the party when +her mother was unable to accompany her—and they were such a crew! Oh, +if she could only get a fresh start now! This girl Verona was so quiet +and ladylike—she had such an air of dignity, she was sure to be taken +up by the cantonment. Doors, at which she had figuratively waited and +whined in vain, would be thrown wide, and she was determined to enter +them by clinging to her sister's skirts.</p> + +<p>Dominga had a second secret—a declared, and not impossible, lover—in +a certain Mr. Charles Young, a subaltern in the Muffineers; he was +a merry, round-faced boy, known to his friends as "Baby Charles," +and he humbly worshipped the Red Chandos. To tell the truth, they +were privately engaged. The fact was never suspected, for it was a +well-established tradition that no one took "D.C." seriously. She had +been flaring about Rajahpore for five years, and was all very well to +flirt or dance with, but to bring into a regiment—no, thank you! At +a whisper of the news the commanding officer would have bundled Baby +Charles out of the place—to a hill depôt—a garrison class—anywhere, +rather than submit one of his subalterns to the claws of the Lal Billi. +The pair had been engaged for six happy weeks; they posted notes to one +another in "Mrs. Beeton's Household Management"—a volume in the Club +Library—and they sat together holding tender conversation on the Club +roof, which was flat and unfrequented—few ever ascended there—whilst +Mrs. Chandos waited, and wondered, in the family victoria. She was not +in the secret, and fondly believed her fair daughter to be detained in +the reading-room.</p> + +<p>Although Dominga was not in love, she was satisfied with her prospects. +Charlie was young, and poor, and rather stupid, but he was an English +officer—his father was an old retired General. If nothing better +offered, she intended to marry him, and thus make her escape from +Manora—shaking its dust for ever from off her feet.</p> + +<p>Once married and presented to the regiment as Mrs. Charles +Vavasour-Young, she resolved to enact the <i>rôle</i> of officer's wife, to +the best of her ability. She was young, she was lively, she was—unless +all men were liars—handsome. She could sing and dance like a +professional, and would have a glorious time and go far. Meanwhile, +Blanche, in her dingy little bungalow, and Lizzie Trotter, and Ada Diaz +would die of sheer envy and jealousy—this reflection afforded Dom a +species of intoxicating rapture. It was surprising that Dom had never +been in love, although her flirtations were notorious and countless; +and she could have married Tom Trotter, Alonzo Diaz, and a stout +Eurasian doctor (Edinburgh M.B.); also, she would have married, had he +been willing, Brian Salwey, but she had made up her mind that, unless +she could "better herself," she was determined to compel her mother +to give her money and her countenance, and to try her fortune on the +Calcutta stage.</p> + +<p>Dom's lithe, seemingly boneless figure had been supreme in skirt +dancing at the school; her dancing had a charm, which her singing +lacked. She represented the very poetry of motion, and seemed to drift +before the eye like some exquisite summer cloud.</p> + +<p>There was a good deal of the Chandos blood in Dominga—unhappily she +had inherited some of the characteristics of her cousin Sydney, and, +like him, she was secretive and false. She was also endowed with his +brains, his irresistible will, his wheedling tongue, and his red hair. +To her mother's side she was indebted for her indolence and love of +soft luxurious ease.</p> + +<p>Not a trustworthy or attractive character—is it? and yet some would +declare, if they saw the graceful Red Cat, coiled up on her corner of +the verandah, the indictment to be a libel, and that Dom was nothing +more than a vivacious, shallow, impulsive creature.</p> + +<p>Truly she was a curious mixture, this slim Eurasian, with the patrician +profile—and the dark marks in her filbert nails. Her mind was as +restless as the ocean, her body was indolent and self-indulgent—which +of the two would rule her life? Which god would Dominga follow—ease or +ambition? Ambition; for ambition often carried luxury in her train.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Three weeks elapsed before Verona was convalescent, and during that +time, she saw but little of Dominga and her mother; indeed, the +attitude of the latter with respect to an invalid was invariably one +of suppressed hostility. Sickness in the house was a visitation that +Mrs. Chandos could not tolerate, and the patient was sensible that she +was guilty of giving a great deal of trouble, and was more or less in +disgrace.</p> + +<p>She and her mother never drew nearer. It was a painful fact, but they +seemed to be cut off from one another by some impassable barrier of the +spirit. On the other hand, Verona and her grandmother were drawn closer +together day by day.</p> + +<p>"I do love you, Verona," announced Mrs. Lopez as she stroked her hair; +"you are so quiet and so sweet-tempered; you remind me of my poor Lily. +Dominga is not a bit like you; she is always dragging your mother to +the station and the club. Your mother is busy trying to mix in society, +but it is foolish—she gets no further, though she thinks she does; +people only smile and whisper. For all her trouble she will soon find +that 'by running in the boat you do not come to land.'"</p> + +<p>Verona made no reply; she knew nothing whatever of the station or her +mother's position in Rajahpore.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Lepell and my daughter are awfully sweet to one another," pursued +the old lady; "but it is a rat and cat friendship! Mrs. Lepell will not +have us; she would rather have the Cavalhos; and as for your mother's +liking for Mrs. Lepell, she waters the creeper, but cuts the roots! She +wants Dominga to make a grand marriage; Dominga, too, is willing; your +father, he meddles not in these things."</p> + +<p>"No," assented Verona.</p> + +<p>"She tried to drag him to visit once or twice, but it was no use. Now +and then she cannot move him. There are things he will <i>not</i> do."</p> + +<p>There was a silence for some time, while Mrs. Lopez fed and fondled +a delicate buff chicken she was nursing in her lap. Then she said +suddenly:</p> + +<p>"Verona, why did you leave England? Why did you come here?"</p> + +<p>"Because," replied Verona, and her pale lip quivered, "I wanted so much +to see my own mother."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lopez gave vent to her queer, wheezy laugh.</p> + +<p>"Then you were wrong to come," she declared. "It is as if one had put +their head in the oil press and cried: 'The favour of Vishnu, be on +me.'"</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you, Nani. What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"It is always dark under the lamp."</p> + +<p>"But still <i>I</i> am in the dark," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"Well then, lovey, you are a stupid girl! you will guess my meaning +when I say an English proverb: 'Put not your head in the lion's mouth.' +You have heard that, surely?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but where is the lion, Nani?"</p> + +<p>"My child, may you never find out!" and with this somewhat solemn +aspiration Mrs. Lopez left the room in order to restore her other +invalid to its mother. It must not be supposed that Verona was entirely +neglected by her family—for such was far from being the case. Her +father daily came and gazed at her through the door, and brought her a +few flowers. Pussy was demonstratively affectionate, and remained with +her sister as long as her grandmother would tolerate. Mrs. Lepell sent +dainty little dishes and picture papers; otherwise, as far as the outer +world was concerned, the arrival of "the new Miss Chandos" appeared +to have been almost forgotten, and when Dom and Blanche mixed in the +little local gaieties and were asked about Verona, they invariably +replied that "she was arl-right!"</p> + +<p>One day Mrs. Lepell paid a visit, and had an interview with the invalid +and her mother. "She wants a change," declared the benevolent lady. +"Miss Verona, will you come over and spend a week or two at my house?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you," faltered Verona; "you are very kind," and she looked +interrogatively at her parent.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, no," she rejoined, with energy; "I could not think of it. +Mrs. Lepell, I cannot have one girl more favoured than another; you +recollect when Dominga was ill you never invited her—and you have +known her almost since she was a baby. If I allow Verona to visit you, +'and she a stranger,' Dominga would be so awfully hurt; she has such a +feeling heart, and she is so fond of <i>you</i>."</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose she will not object if I take her sister for a drive?" +said Mrs. Lepell, rather sharply.</p> + +<p>To this project Mrs. Chandos accorded an unwilling assent, and +presently the Trotters were greatly edified by beholding poor +whitefaced Verona stagger out to Mrs. Lepell's luxurious victoria, +Pussy following her with pillows and propping her up with care.</p> + +<p>It was a lovely soft evening, and Mrs. Lepell allowed the girl time to +enjoy her surroundings before she commenced to talk. She glanced at her +as she lay back among the cushions; what a fine, high-bred face it was! +although so wan and languorous.</p> + +<p>"About here the country is all very flat," she began, "cane and +millet crops, millet crops and cane! Now and then you notice one +enormous, solitary tree, the last of the forest perhaps. See that +one yonder—more than a mile away; I've often thought I would like +to make a nearer acquaintance, but he stands encompassed by wheat. +Every time I drive out I look at him and bow, for we have been friends +for twenty years. There, on the left, you may notice the city in the +distance—beyond the city the spire of the cantonment; but we will go +for a drive into the country, and you will like that best."</p> + +<p>Verona nodded her head as Mrs. Lepell's black Australian steppers flew +along a flat, red road bordered with high cane crops and acacia trees. +Now and then, they passed a cluster of huts or a drove of goats, and +once they met a tall, two-storied cage on wheels, drawn by a camel, +full of chattering travellers.</p> + +<p>"The mail-cart to Beetapore!" announced Mrs. Lepell, with a laugh. +Then—"you are better, are you not, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I am," she answered, half under her breath.</p> + +<p>"My dear, you must not talk like that," said Mrs. Lepell, laying her +hand on hers. "Fever does leave one a wreck; <i>I</i> know exactly how you +feel."</p> + +<p>"I hope you have never known how I feel," exclaimed the girl, turning +two tragic eyes slowly on her companion. "I feel—oh, <i>why</i> didn't I +die?" and she burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry for you, you poor dear child." Mrs. Lepell took her hand +tightly in her own; "I know it is all so very new and strange."</p> + +<p>"And it can never be otherwise," sobbed Verona. "I have come out too +late ever to be one of them. It were really better if I were dead."</p> + +<p>"My dear, don't say such things!"</p> + +<p>"Not to every one, Mrs. Lepell, but you have been so kind to me, and +you look sympathetic. It is a relief to me to say aloud what my brain +keeps repeating all day and sometimes all night, 'I wish I were dead.'"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because I have no real home, here or anywhere; I am an outsider—an +intruder—and oh! I was so anxious to come! My grandmother is right +when she says I am like the dhoby's donkey, for I belong neither to the +house nor the river."</p> + +<p>How nearly she belonged to the river! Did she remember? Mrs. Lepell +wondered.</p> + +<p>"And there are other things."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but now listen to me, Verona—of course I shall call you Verona; +there <i>are</i> other things. You are only twenty-two, with all your best +years before you; you have been well educated; you have enjoyed all the +advantages of wealth and mixed in the world; you have the use of your +faculties; you have a certain amount of brains and beauty. All these +other things you actually possess. It is the act of a coward to throw +down her arms when she meets with a reverse, and cry, 'I want to die! I +am tired of life.' And life is so interesting, even to me, Verona, who +am old enough to be your mother. I wish to live, and see it all—and +what will happen."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but," she protested, "you are different—so different."</p> + +<p>"My dear, every one has their own row to hoe; how do you know that +Providence has not sent you to brighten your home, and refine—and +raise your surroundings?"</p> + +<p>Verona gave a sort of gasping, hysterical laugh.</p> + +<p>"I grant you that your mother and Dominga may not be altogether +sympathetic, but you would have immense influence with Pussy and Nicky; +she is indolent, sweet-tempered, easily led; and Nicky is extremely +clever, but only half-educated, poor boy! they took him away from the +Martinière school, and he has loafed about ever since. Brian Salwey +declares that he has a capital head-piece; all he wants is some one at +home to urge him on, to set to making his way in the world. But he is +losing his best days slacking about Manora, playing tennis and making +hencoops. Now you should take him—and Pussy in hand."</p> + +<p>"I? how do you mean? What can I do?"</p> + +<p>"Do? Why teach them! Give them a couple of hours English and French +lessons of a morning. I can lend you some books. Let them do English +and French dictation, and reading; Green's 'History of the English +People' and Macaulay's 'Essays' will keep them going. I'm sure Pussy +will be all the better for a little arithmetic and spelling. You'll +find that it will interest you—and employ them."</p> + +<p>Verona made no reply.</p> + +<p>"Then there is your father, dear; have you thought of him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he scarcely ever opens his lips to me or any one; he appears to +accept everything as it is, and to be sunk in a sort of lethargy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear child, if you only knew his life as my husband related it +to me, you would be sorry, and make allowances for his silence. He has +been a scapegoat for others: he has remained out here for twenty-eight +years, and fallen away from the memory of all his old friends. You call +him lethargic? Well, I daresay his feelings are benumbed. Early in life +he received a terrible shock, which has stunned him. Once he was one of +the cheeriest young fellows; what a contrast to his present condition! +He just grinds away at his post like a horse in a mill, in order to +support his family. You and he should be especial friends."</p> + +<p>"Yes—but why?"</p> + +<p>"Because, presumably, you are a Chandos; you know England—his native +country; the others do not. There is one bond. You like books and +perhaps chess—so does he; you might easily bring some light and warmth +into the poor man's grey life. Will you try, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I don't think it will be of the smallest use!"</p> + +<p>"It will! In occupation you will soon forget yourself."</p> + +<p>"I hope I may—for I hate myself at present."</p> + +<p>"You hate everything just now, because you are in low spirits and weak +health. Adopt my prescription—it will cure you. You and I might have +some long drives and talks together, but I am aware that I may not +enjoy your company too often."</p> + +<p>The two ladies returned to the big bungalow, where they sat in the +verandah and had tea. It was like an English tea, with all its dainty +little appointments. The sight of the pretty drawing-room, with its +books and flowers and sketches acted as a restorative. So all Indian +drawing-rooms were not dingy and dark and squalid! Mrs. Lepell's +society was a veritable tonic, and when she had deposited the invalid +at the door of her home, the girl felt miraculously stimulated and +revived.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Verona lost no time in putting Mrs. Lepell's advice into practice—her +project of being governess to Nicky and Pussy was accepted by the pair +with unexpected pride and gratitude. A large table in one corner of +the verandah was carefully screened off, and here they worked for two +or three hours every morning, in spite of the jeers and derision of +Dominga and her mother. Pussy was incredibly dull; nothing could induce +her to put the "e" in the right place in "believe" and "receive," and +as to the difference between latitude and longitude she merely laughed +and shook her head.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, Nicky had brains, and a decided taste for +mathematics. Salwey gave him lessons twice a week, for Nicky had been +promised a clerkship in the works if he proved steady and industrious; +certainly, it was only fifty rupees a month, but it was better than +nothing. His ambition had been set alight, and Salwey had fired him +with the desire to be an engineer, and to endeavour to pass into Roorki +College. Nicky now turned his carpentering talents to mending an old, +long-neglected boat, and of an afternoon he rowed his two sisters about +the river—even his grandmother ventured once—anything to please +Nicky, for Nicky was her darling. Verona, to her great satisfaction, +now began to know her father a little better; he dropped his reserve, +and seemed faintly interested in the boating and lessons.</p> + +<p>One evening, much to her surprise, he invited her into his own +particular den; it was at the far end of the bungalow, opened directly +into the verandah, and was entered by three steps. As she stood and +gazed about her Verona gave an exclamation of astonishment; she had +seen an officer's barrack room in England, she was standing in its +counterpart here. There was the brass-bound chest of drawers, the camp +bed, the folding chair and round table; over the mantel-piece hung a +sabre, sabre-tasche, and spurs; on the walls, covered with numbers of +faded regimental groups, were also polo sticks, hog spears and some +old sporting prints. One side of the room was lined with a bookcase; +there was a writing table, a shabby, comfortable-looking armchair, and +quantities of pipes. It was the room of an officer, and gentleman!</p> + +<p>"Here I sit and smoke and dream alone," explained Mr. Chandos.</p> + +<p>"Always alone?" enquired Verona.</p> + +<p>"Yes; no one else cares to dream and read."</p> + +<p>"I think I do, father."</p> + +<p>"Then I invite you here; consider yourself an honorary member of the +Den."</p> + +<p>"Thank you."</p> + +<p>"Do you play piquet or chess?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—but not well."</p> + +<p>"No doubt you will beat me—I am terribly rusty."</p> + +<p>"At any rate I shall try," she answered with a bright smile. "Who?" +suddenly walking over to a picture, "is this handsome young man in +racing colours?"</p> + +<p>"Do you not know?" he asked with an air of distressed surprise.</p> + +<p>"You!" she exclaimed, with an unflattering start.</p> + +<p>"Yes; that was taken after I won the Civil Service Cup, at Lucknow, +on Good Fortune. Names go by contraries, for since that day my luck +turned. I have been going steadily down the ladder ever since."</p> + +<p>"Oh, father," and she paused and turned and looked at him; "why do you +say so? What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I've done those things which I ought not to have done, and not done +those things which I ought to have done, and there's no health in me."</p> + +<p>She gazed into his eyes, laden with inexpressible remorse; then turned +away to hide her own tears—and presently said, in a totally different +voice:</p> + +<p>"Ah, I see," pointing to the bookcase, "you have all Sir Walter Scott, +tattered and torn—how I love him!"</p> + +<p>"Is he your only love so far?"</p> + +<p>"Well," with an effort at gaiety, "I must confess I am very fond of +Charles Lamb and Emerson and George Eliot."</p> + +<p>"So am I," cried her parent; "I see that we shall agree."</p> + +<p>"Above all I love William Thackeray."</p> + +<p>"Here," he laughed and said, "you have my consent; it is a family +failing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a beautiful old place!" she exclaimed, as she paused before +a little spotted landscape, in the midst of which stood a stately and +picturesque mansion.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Charne Hall; I was born there."</p> + +<p>She moved in order to examine it still closer, thinking of the +appalling contrast between her father's birthplace and his present +abode.</p> + +<p>"It has been in our family since the reign of James I.; my cousin has +it now. He married a woman of large fortune; they have no children."</p> + +<p>Verona turned and glanced at him. Her thoughts flew to Nicky. Was Nicky +the heir to this ancestral English home?</p> + +<p>"It is a beautiful place," continued her father, gazing at the picture +with eyes of deep affection; "it is the sort of mansion house agents +cry up, with its saloon, suite of drawing-rooms, picture gallery, +library, and forty or fifty bedrooms; but if it was only a little +roadside cottage I should love it just as much. I am proud of being +a Chandos of Charne. In all the ups and downs of my life I have +remembered this fact, and kept the name spotless, to the best of my +power. You can never guess, my dear, what sacrifices this has cost me, +miserable and insignificant as I am. I have upheld our name. Were any +one belonging to me to dishonour or disgrace it, it would kill me." +He spoke with such vehemence and suppressed passion, that he seemed +transformed.</p> + +<p>"Here," he continued as he unlocked a drawer, and produced a large +photograph, which showed the place on a much finer scale. "And here," +he added, placing another picture in her hand. It was a photograph of a +pretty girl in her teens, the face was sweet, the dress old-fashioned, +"Oh, no, not that," hastily seizing it. "But this—it is your +grandfather." It was a photograph, from a portrait, of a handsome, +haughty, elderly man.</p> + +<p>And across one corner of the picture was inscribed in a bold hand: +"Chandos, of Charne."</p> + +<p>Verona took the picture in her hand and considered it attentively.</p> + +<p>Her grandfather! What a contrast was presented by this aristocratic +English magnate to her grandmother in the Dufta!</p> + +<p>"I have never shown it before," resumed her father in a tremulous tone, +"so do not say anything about it. But you have been at home—you are +a Chandos—<i>you</i> understand. I think, my dear," and his voice broke a +little, "we shall have many things in common. I am thankful that you +came; already you have done good to Nicky and Pussy and me." He paused +abruptly and stood in a listening attitude.</p> + +<p>Yes, there was a sound of wheels! The victoria had returned from its +daily round and common task.</p> + +<p>Presently a shrill voice came pealing down the verandah.</p> + +<p>"Verona, Verona! Now where <i>is</i> that girl?"</p> + +<p>"There, there, my dear, you had better go," urged her father nervously; +"you will come again soon." As she turned to leave the room she met her +mother face to face in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"Oh, ho!" she cried, "so <i>you</i> have found your way here? I have seen +Mrs. Lepell; she says she wants you and Pussy to go to tea to-morrow. I +can't think what she is up to!"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>It was an unprecedented honour for Pussy to be invited to tea at the +big bungalow, and when Verona had arranged her hair, and dressed her in +a white skirt and pink silk blouse, she looked surprisingly handsome. +Indeed, when Mrs. Lepell shook hands with her, and noticed the look +of timid self-approval on her pretty dark face, she began to realise +Mrs. Chandos in her youth. She had invited the girl as a screen and +companion for her friend Verona, and the three sat out under the bamboo +trees and had tea. Pussy felt excessively nervous, yet triumphant; +never before had she been thus honoured—only invited as one of the +factory crowd; she gazed about her admiringly at the cane chairs and +rugs and books. While her sister and her hostess conversed, she munched +cakes and chocolates—stared at them steadily and mentally compared the +two. Verona was quite as much a great lady as Mrs. Lepell, her eyes +were so queenly; she sat with such ease, with her pretty hands in her +lap, and even in a plain cambric gown she seemed beautifully dressed. +Here was Mr. Salwey riding up on his splendid black horse—how fine he +looked! She surveyed him furtively as he came quickly down the steps, +in his neat brown riding boots, his light coat, his tie and his hat. +What blue, blue eyes he had! How quiet they were, and yet they seemed +to see everything with their cool, watchful glance!</p> + +<p>He was almost the only gentleman of Pussy's acquaintance; he was +Pussy's idea of a story-book hero; everyone of her favourites fitted +him, but he was better, and handsomer, and cleverer than them all. She +looked up to Salwey as her ideal—but had bestowed her heart on his +antipodes.</p> + +<p>"Well, Aunt Liz," he said, coming forward with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Brian, I am glad to see you! I thought you were on duty."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm on pleasure," and he nodded to Pussy with a friendly air.</p> + +<p>"This is my nephew—Brian Salwey," said Mrs. Lepell. "Brian, let me +introduce you to Miss Verona Chandos."</p> + +<p>Verona inclined her head; he bowed profoundly and, as he moved aside +some papers, and took a chair, Brian Salwey was inwardly telling +himself that this young person—was no half-caste; she looked like a +lady of high degree, with her delicate features and well set-on head.</p> + +<p>"And here," resumed his aunt, turning to the shy, dark girl, with eyes +like fixed stars, "is Miss Pussy, with whom you are already acquainted."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; Miss Pussy has often been down to my place with her +brother—and seen my ponies."</p> + +<p>"Oh, they are lovelee! such beauties! Oh, I do love ponies," she +exclaimed, then wriggled, and relapsed into a condition of smothered +giggling. What a curious contrast was afforded by the English and the +Indian sisters! One seemed a refined, cultivated girl of the world—the +other, a daughter of the bazaars! Could education achieve so much with +respect to deportment and voice?</p> + +<p>Presently Salwey expressed a hope that "there was some tea left +for him? Being as you know," turning to his aunt, "a thoroughly +domesticated character."</p> + +<p>"And pray, how did you leave England?" he inquired, now addressing +himself directly to Verona.</p> + +<p>"I left it with some regret," she answered, with a smile. "It was +August, you know."</p> + +<p>"Ah, August is my favourite month," he remarked, as he carefully +selected a lump of sugar.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you impostor!" said his aunt. "You would like Miss Chandos to +suppose that you are thinking of gorgeous sunsets, and harvest homes, +and early autumn tints. My dear, the truth is, he is thinking of the +shooting."</p> + +<p>"Well, I have not been able to do anything but <i>think</i> of it for some +years. Pray, who is the owner of this pretty thing?" he asked, as he +stooped to pick up a little gold pencil-case.</p> + +<p>Verona held out her hand. "Yes, is it not pretty? I got it at the Army +and Navy Stores."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the Stores! They are painfully associated in my mind with wedding +presents—I have put in some bad quarters-of-an-hour there."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's a ready-money place," suggested his aunt with a sly smile.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that was not it—thanks awfully for the insinuation—it was the +worry of thinking, and making up my mind."</p> + +<p>"Why give anything?"</p> + +<p>"What can I do, when fellows I know will get married?"</p> + +<p>"Console yourself with the expectation of the crop <i>you</i> may reap some +day."</p> + +<p>"That depends! If I were to marry an heiress—I daresay I'd have a +good harvest, on the principle of 'give an apple where there is an +orchard'—you see," glancing at Verona, "that I can quote proverbs, as +well as Mrs. Lepell."</p> + +<p>"But she is not a cynic like you, Brian."</p> + +<p>"Come, don't crush me in public, Aunt Liz. I hear"—turning to +Verona—"that you have brought out no end of new books——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have a good many; can I lend you some?"</p> + +<p>"If you lend him a book, Verona, you will be sorry," interposed his +aunt.</p> + +<p>"Now—she is impeaching my honesty, you see! Any cheap paper-backed +edition—not turning solely on murder and robbery—would be gratefully +appreciated."</p> + +<p>"I daresay I can supply your requirements."</p> + +<p>"The fact is," said Salwey, taking off his hat and throwing it on the +grass, "I cannot stand anything that demands sternly concentrated +attention. I don't want to hear of the 'over man,' nor even the +'sub-conscious brain'; on the other hand, I find the reading of +'shockers' requires an amount of physical courage, in which I am +deficient—and—for love stories—I have—to borrow the American terms, +'no use.'"</p> + +<p>"So, you see, he will not be easy to suit!" supplemented Mrs. Lepell.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," he protested. "He is merely a simple, unsophisticated police +wallah."</p> + +<p>"Not so <i>very</i> simple, Brian. And you <i>have</i> some use for love stories. +Do you recollect how you borrowed and gobbled up 'A Princess of Thule,' +and sent it back horribly disfigured and reeking of tobacco?"</p> + +<p>"I offered to replace it——"</p> + +<p>"To keep it—as I understood——"</p> + +<p>"For my part, I much prefer 'Macleod of Dare,'" declared Verona.</p> + +<p>This remark at once started an animated discussion.</p> + +<p>And now that the conversation circled round books and pictures, poor +Pussy was completely out of her depth, and could contribute nothing +beyond the language of the eye, and spasmodic gigglings.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, as Brian Salwey talked to her charming low-voiced sister, +he felt figuratively swept off his feet; it was impossible to realise +that this girl was the daughter of the sub-manager and "Mother Chan."; +that her great-grandmother had been a Temple girl from the West coast, +who had sung and danced before the gods. His brain actually reeled as +he endeavoured to assimilate this fact, with the beautiful face, the +well-cut, firm lips, that were imparting her impressions of the recent +Passion play at Oberammergau. Never for a moment did she appear to +recall that terrible scene by the river, and her own pitiful cry, "Let +me die! Oh, let me die!"</p> + +<p>At present she was laughing at some epitaphs that Mrs. Lepell had +unearthed from an American magazine, little dreaming how near she had +been to earning an epitaph herself!</p> + +<p>"I must say I like the unquestioning conviction of this one from +Wyoming county," said Mrs. Lepell, and she read aloud:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">"She was in health at 11.30 a.m.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And left for heaven at 2.30 p.m."</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Brian leant nearer, and looked over his aunt's shoulder, and said: +"Yes, but I think this one from Maine would be hard to beat as a +monument of punctuation.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">'John Philips</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Accidentally shot as a mark of affection by his brother.'</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>or this is most excellent:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">'Here lies the body of Obadiah Wilkinson and Ruth his wife,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Their warfare is accomplished.'</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"Now let us hand the book to Miss Chandos that she may make her +selection." As he spoke he took it from Mrs. Lepell, and held it to +Verona. After a slight pause, she said: "I really think mine is the +best of all."</p> + +<p>"Then I challenge you to let us hear it," said Salwey.</p> + +<p>In a low steady voice she at once began to read aloud:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">"'Our life is but a winter's day,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Some breakfast and away,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Others to dinner stay—and are well fed,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The oldest sups and goes to bed.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Large is the debt who lingers out the day,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Who goes the soonest—has the least to pay.'"</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"So you would go soon?" looking at the girl interrogatively.</p> + +<p>"Yes, after breakfast, so to speak," she responded.</p> + +<p>"And I would remain till after supper—when the band had dispersed, and +the lights were put out."</p> + +<p>"I, too, should like to remain till the Last Post," said Mrs. Lepell.</p> + +<p>Pussy listened to this conversation with a face of blank bewilderment. +What did they mean by talking of breakfast, and supper, in this odd +fashion?</p> + +<p>"By-the-way, Verona," said Mrs. Lepell, "to change to another subject, +have you ever had any trace of your jewels?"</p> + +<p>"No, never."</p> + +<p>"Pray, Brian," turning to her nephew, "what are you about? I repeat the +common cry, 'Where are the police?'"</p> + +<p>"The police were never informed of this theft," he rejoined. "I heard +of the robbery as a mere bazaar shave."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to tell me," said his aunt, now sitting erect, "that you +were not officially informed that Mrs. Chandos had a press broken into, +and that Verona's dressing-bag was opened, and all the valuables in it +were carried off?"</p> + +<p>"What valuables?" he asked, judicially.</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh—oh!" cried Pussy, unable to hold her tongue any longer. "Oh, +such lovelee things, that must have cost lakhs of rupees! A gold +watch and chain, a diamond and turquoise necklet, pearl bangles, and +a pendant with an emerald as big as <i>this</i>"—making a circle with two +little brown fingers—"and rings, and all sorts of things."</p> + +<p>"How long ago did this happen?"</p> + +<p>"Six weeks."</p> + +<p>"And this is the first I have heard of it; I am afraid everything is +scattered far by this time."</p> + +<p>"I did suggest sending for the police," said Verona.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was when you were so sick; mother would not have it; she," and +here Pussy giggled, "says all the police are thieves."</p> + +<p>"Even so, I wonder she did not endeavour to set a thief to catch a +thief," rejoined Salwey, "and I maintain that the police are not +thieves. Has nothing been done?" turning to Verona. "Why has the affair +been allowed to drop?"</p> + +<p>"I really don't know," she replied.</p> + +<p>"And has there not been one single trace?" pursued Mrs. Lepell.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you would call a trace. You know that man, Abdul +Buk?"</p> + +<p>Salwey's eyes brightened.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have that—experience."</p> + +<p>"I was walking on the road the other day when he drove by in that +battered old phaeton of his; when he saw me he pulled up, and said: +'Oh, what a pity about your pretty things, Miss Sahib, I am so sorry. I +think the watch and chain might be got, if you would give reward—say, +of three hundred rupees.'"</p> + +<p>"Yes?" said Salwey.</p> + +<p>"I refused; I told him I had no money to spare."</p> + +<p>"No," put in Pussy, "for she has spent it all on my bicycle."</p> + +<p>Verona coloured vividly, and Salwey said: "If you will write me out a +list of all the things that have been stolen, I should like to see what +I can do, on the principle of 'Better late than never.'"</p> + +<p>"I will—thank you very much," the clock was now striking six, and +Verona rose to depart. She had enjoyed an hour of what had once been +her everyday life, a woman's brilliant, cultivated talk, and dainty +refined surroundings, a man's astonished first look—and subsequent +subdued homage. Oh, she knew it all so well! For one short hour she +had been back at Cannes, with the sun setting over the Estorells. The +sun here had just set behind the sugar factory, where her father was +employed; she was nothing more or less than a foolish discontented +half-caste, who had momentarily forgotten her place in the world, and +must at once return home, or her mother would be angry.</p> + +<p>Salwey accompanied Verona and Pussy, carrying magazines and papers, +the gift of his aunt; almost before he left them he must have heard an +irritable:</p> + +<p>"Now, where have you two been? Oh, my! you are late. And look at Pussy +in a pink blouse! How set up she is!"</p> + +<p>All this harangue was from Dominga—who was lolling in the verandah in +a long cane chair.</p> + +<p>She and her mother had lately returned from Rajahpore, bringing with +them a considerable amount of irritation and ill-temper.</p> + +<p>When Salwey once more made his way to the tea-table, his aunt was still +there.</p> + +<p>"Now, Brian," she said, "sit down here; I want to know what you think +of her."</p> + +<p>"Her?" he repeated, "which her?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be so ridiculous! You know perfectly well who I mean."</p> + +<p>"I think," he said, "that the new Miss Chandos is the most beautiful +girl I have ever seen."</p> + +<p>"And has no recollection, that this is not your first meeting, and that +but for you her body would have been found in the Jurra?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know how to believe that she is the sister of that fat little +dark girl, or the daughter of Mother Chan, or even the sister of the +illustrious Dominga."</p> + +<p>"Their noses are rather alike," said Mrs. Lepell, with a meditative +air; "do you see much of Dominga?"</p> + +<p>"Much too much! She and her mother are continually in the club, +ostensibly to read the papers; the girl plays tennis and badminton—she +also plays the fool."</p> + +<p>"You don't like her, Brian?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no, I know a few things about Miss Dominga Chandos."</p> + +<p>"Oh, tell me?" said his aunt, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Her people ought to look after her."</p> + +<p>"And is that all I am to hear?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't it enough? Think of all the events, situations, and mysteries, +your imagination can weave out of that little sentence. To me she is +always the Cat—the Red Cat; she has a disagreeable way of winding +herself about, and purring."</p> + +<p>"Singing, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I don't admire her caterwauling; her voice is detestable. I always +seem to hear the native note dominating her song, the Nautch girl +note."</p> + +<p>"And so you say that Dominga reminds you of a red cat? Take care she +does not scratch you some day."</p> + +<p>"No fear!" Then, as if suddenly recollecting something, "What an +extraordinary business this is about Miss Verona's jewels; I cannot +understand it."</p> + +<p>"Neither can I."</p> + +<p>"To me it looks rather like a hushed-up affair; someone in Manora has +had a hand in the robbery."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said Mrs. Lepell, doubtfully, "but Mrs. Chandos is the +last woman in the world to allow herself, or her family, to be robbed +without a struggle."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that old scoundrel, Abdul Buk, seems to know something about it."</p> + +<p>"I always thought he was rather a nice, venerable old person."</p> + +<p>"He is a nice, deep old person, and I must admit, that I've never yet +found him out; he is full of palaver and civility. If I were to believe +anonymous letters——"</p> + +<p>"But no one believes them," protested his aunt.</p> + +<p>"He is at the bottom of the worst form of usury and blood-sucking in +the district."</p> + +<p>"There you go," said his aunt, "started on your hobby, usury and +money-lenders."</p> + +<p>"Well, they are the curse of the country, and if it is in my power to +abate that curse, and release a few hundred slaves, I shall not have +lived in vain."</p> + +<p>"Brian, you ought to have been a barrister; I can see and hear you +haranguing a jury."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, I'm perfectly satisfied with my present profession, hunting +down and securing criminals for barristers to denounce and juries to +condemn."</p> + +<p>There was a long silence; Mrs. Lepell put a few stitches in her work, +and Salwey made some notes in a little book.</p> + +<p>"District Superintendent Salwey," she began suddenly, "of what are you +thinking?"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Liz, this question of yours has become a confirmed habit, as +regular as 'how do you do?' Since you particularly wish to know—I am +thinking of the new Miss Chandos and her turquoise necklet; why is she +kept so strictly in the background?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps her mother imagines that she would extinguish Dominga—and +Dominga is her idol, her brazen image."</p> + +<p>"Possibly, and the other is a true lady, unaffected, refined, and +altogether a most attractive and interesting personality."</p> + +<p>"But nothing to <i>you</i>, Brian. You must not fall in love with her; +think of Mrs. Lopez as you see her, basking in the sun, a shapeless +old woman, a mass of superstition and ignorance; think of Verona's +grandmother, and then think of your own. You know the beautiful picture +in the Roxley library—I believe if you were to marry a Eurasian girl, +she would come down out of her frame!"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +</div> + + +<p>"Girls, I have ordered the wagonette for this afternoon," announced +Mrs. Chandos, "so we will all go to the club. Verona, you have been +here two months, and never once been in to the station. Just fancy!"</p> + +<p>Verona's attempted apologies and excuses were imperiously silenced. +In a quarter of an hour she found herself driving from the door, in +company with her mother, Dominga, Pussy and Blanche, who had been +spending the morning with her relations.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Verona, how I wish you knew some of the officers' wives," bewailed +her mother; "it would be such a help to your poor sisters. You see, +although we are such a good family at home, and go back for hundreds of +years, yet we are looked down on in Rajahpore as just factory nobodies. +Your father will never leave a card on the mess, no, not even when his +old friends were here, though I went down on my knees and asked him to +do it. Yes, I did! No one calls on us except one or two young men who +are no good. No?"</p> + +<p>"But don't you go to numbers of entertainments and tennis parties?" +enquired the newcomer.</p> + +<p>"We go only to look on—to sports and cricket matches, but we know no +one, for we, of course, will not sit beside the Trotters and the wood +contract people. Then, when we go to the station club, people give us +the cold shoulder, and look as much as to say, 'Now, what are <i>you</i> +doing here?' If you only knew one or two officers' wives they would ask +us to balls and dinners, and what a thing it would be for us! There +must be hundreds and thousands of people in the world that you know, +Verona."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I do not think that I shall meet any of them at Rajahpore."</p> + +<p>During this conversation the party had been driving towards the +cantonment, which at this period of the year resembled green, park-like +plains, diversified with barracks, bungalows, clumps of feathery +bamboos, and clumsy mango trees.</p> + +<p>Outside the club waited many carriages, and round the tennis courts +a number of people were assembled, as Mrs. Chandos and her daughters +descended (unassisted) from the wagonette.</p> + +<p>They chattered into the reading-room, <i>en masse</i>, and went over to the +big table where the picture papers were to be found. These they tossed +about recklessly, or turned over with contemptuous indifference. No +one took the smallest notice of them, although Blanche, Dominga and +Pussy had duly announced their arrival by loud remarks and laughter, as +ear-piercing as a peacock's scream.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chandos was apparently buried in the <i>Queen</i>, but her little +black eyes were all the time roving round the room; yet she did not +appear to observe the glances of annoyance that were cast at her three +merry daughters. Verona, more sensitive, got up and walked away into +the adjoining library, which was lined with books. Several people +were also examining the shelves. As she was turning over the pages +of an old friend, she was startled to hear a voice beside her say: +"Is it possible that I behold Miss Chandos?" She looked up quickly, +and beheld a little blonde lady, with a pert, piquant face, and in an +instant recognised Miss Snoad, a second-rate girl, who lived near the +Melvilles, and whom she suddenly remembered had, to the surprise and +delight of her family, married an officer and gone to India.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I know you're going to say 'Miss Snoad,'" she continued, and her +little green eyes danced gleefully, "but I am Mrs. Barwell now; my +husband is a Major in the Muffineers. Who would have thought of seeing +<i>you</i> out here? I suppose you are globe-trotting. How is Madame de +Godez?"</p> + +<p>These questions were poured forth so rapidly that Verona had no time to +reply.</p> + +<p>"Madame de Godez is dead; she died very suddenly last March."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" ejaculated Mrs. Barwell. Undoubtedly Madame de Godez's heiress +stood before her, the happy owner of fifteen thousand a year! "And +only fancy your being at Rajahpore! I suppose you have a smart +chaperone—some lady of title. You must both come and stay with me—a +good long visit."</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much, but I am with my own relations," replied Verona.</p> + +<p>"Why—I never knew you had any relations in India."</p> + +<p>"Nor did I, until within the last few months."</p> + +<p>"Who are they?" asked the lady breathlessly. "What is their name?"</p> + +<p>"Chandos; they live at Manora."</p> + +<p>"What! <i>Those</i> people?" and Mrs. Barwell's voice grew shrill, her face +became quite pink, as she collapsed on a chair and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Well, I never!"</p> + +<p>Verona remained standing, motionless, gazing at her in dead silence, +and there was a long, uncomfortable pause.</p> + +<p>"And what has become of all the money?" gasped Mrs. Barwell at last.</p> + +<p>"It went to Madame de Godez's next of kin."</p> + +<p>"My gracious goodness! my stars! What a change for you; what an <i>awful</i> +come down!"</p> + +<p>At this moment Mrs. Chandos bustled into the library, closely attended +by Pussy and Dominga.</p> + +<p>"Whatt!" she exclaimed, triumphantly, "so you <i>have</i> found a friend, +Verona!" and she looked from her daughter to the little, hard-faced +woman in the armchair. "You must introduce me, Verona. No?"</p> + +<p>Verona, painfully embarrassed, remained silent. What was she to do? Of +course her mother wished to know Mrs. Barwell, but Mrs. Barwell did not +wish to know her mother.</p> + +<p>To her profound relief the latter stood up, and said:</p> + +<p>"Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Chandos? I believe I get my eggs and fowls +from you? Your daughter and I were acquainted in England."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, yes; and this is my other daughter, Dominga. I daresay you +have met Dom at the tennis——"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Barwell merely closed her eyes at Dominga, and turning abruptly to +Verona, said:</p> + +<p>"Now, when will you come to see me?"</p> + +<p>"I really cannot say."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you can have the victoria any day," volunteered her mother with +gushing officiousness.</p> + +<p>"Let me see," said Mrs. Barwell, "Wednesday is the polo; suppose you +come to tea and we go on there afterwards. There is to be a grand +match, and a number of people are coming over from Cheepore."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chandos once more put herself forward, and with eager volubility +promised her daughter's company without fail, and after a few little +speeches Mrs. Barwell left the library.</p> + +<p>"Whatt luck!" cried Mrs. Chandos. "Dominga, you can <i>not</i> play tennis; +you must come down with me to the bazaar and get a pair of shoes. +Whatt luck! Whatt luck!" she kept repeating. "Whatt luck!"</p> + +<p>Verona failed to see any connection between the word "luck" and +Dominga's new kid shoes, but she understood this puzzle later.</p> + +<p>When Wednesday came, Verona—who was exceedingly reluctant to fulfil +her engagement to Mrs. Barwell—was astonished to find that Dominga was +to bear her company! Dominga, arrayed in her own best green foulard and +one of "Suzanne's" celebrated hats, was dragging on a pair of new white +gloves as she entered the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going, Dominga?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I am going with you—a pleasant surprise!"</p> + +<p>"But, Dom, you cannot come; you know you were not invited."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I can. Tea is nothing—she will not mind."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall not go at all," announced Verona, and as she spoke she +began to remove her hat. "I will write a note of excuse. Please tell +the man to take round the victoria."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chandos was barely in time to hear the fag end of this +conversation, and burst out in a fury of passion.</p> + +<p>"Hi! hi! what do you mean giving those grand lady orders here? I only +give orders in this house. You learn thatt, Miss. I now order you, take +your sister to Mrs. Barwell's. If you were not a bad hearted, mean, +thankless wretch, you would feel glad and proud to introduce Dominga to +your friends. She shall go—and I say it!"</p> + +<p>"Then she goes alone; and, indeed, I am not at all anxious to resume my +acquaintance with Mrs. Barwell."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is already three o'clock," screamed Mrs. Chandos; "you will be +late! What is the good of you—you idle, useless doll, but to help your +sisters into society?" Mrs. Chandos was perfectly livid with passion; +her tongue, now loosened, gave vent to a torrent of abuse.</p> + +<p>At this particular moment Verona caught sight of her father timidly +opening the door of his den, and, turning her back on her storming +mother, she hurried to appeal to him.</p> + +<p>"Father," she began, "I am invited to tea in Rajahpore with a lady I +once knew slightly; I have no desire to know her any better. My mother +accepted the invitation, and now insists on sending Dominga with me. +I'm sure Mrs. Barwell will think it a great intrusion. What am I to do?"</p> + +<p>"Go, my dear," was his surprising reply; "go; you must submit to your +mother. There is no alternative."</p> + +<p>"Go?" she repeated incredulously. "You are not in earnest!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," and his voice faltered, poor, craven man. "Go for my sake, +Verona—and the sake of peace. These scenes"—and he nodded towards the +verandah—"are distracting. Oh, go, my dear, for God's sake—it will +only be a little hurt to your pride, and it will soon be over!" and +with this extremely faint consolation, Verona, holding her head very +high, went down the steps and took her place in the victoria beside her +exultant sister.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV</h2> +</div> + + +<p>As Verona bowled along the road beside Dominga, she felt brave enough +to cope with this unprecedented occasion. When she thought of her +father's miserable eyes, and agonised appeal, she was prepared to face +a dozen Mrs. Barwells, but by and by, her courage subsided; the cold +fit came on, her heart beat fast, her lips trembled involuntarily. She +was aware that for the first time in her life she was about to take an +unwarrantable liberty. They had all too soon reached their journey's +end; dashed up a gravelled avenue, and come to a full stop under the +porch of Major Barwell's bungalow. Presently they were ushered into the +presence of the lady of the house, who was lolling in an armchair, +reading a paper. She rose with alacrity to greet her visitor, but +when she caught sight of "Red Chandos" behind her pretty pale sister, +her agreeable smile instantly changed to an expression of angry +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"I have ventured to bring Dominga," said Verona, rather faintly.</p> + +<p>"So it seems," rejoined Mrs. Barwell, with an almost imperceptible +inclination of the head.</p> + +<p>"A most unexpected honour"—the words were "unexpected honour," but +tone was "unpardonable impertinence."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Barwell raised her voice and called, "Qui Hye." A servant came +running in.</p> + +<p>"If any other ladies call—say I am not at home."</p> + +<p>Verona thoroughly understood. Mrs. Barwell did not wish her friends +to find Dominga Chandos sitting in her drawing-room, and she made up +her mind that as soon as possible the lady should be relieved of her +society—nothing would induce her to remain to tea.</p> + +<p>"Oh, stop a moment," said Mrs. Barwell. "Now that I think of it, the +private theatrical people are coming in—never mind, never mind." With +a wave of her hand she dismissed the bearer.</p> + +<p>Then she sat down and motioned the sisters to two chairs, and +addressing her conversation exclusively to Verona, began:</p> + +<p>"I was so surprised to see you the other day; I had no idea you were in +the neighbourhood. What an awful change you must find it in every way!"</p> + +<p>Verona mentally assented to this remark, but merely replied:</p> + +<p>"I like India. I have always wished to see it."</p> + +<p>"That is fortunate, is it not, my dear? as your home happens to be +out here. What a contrast to Halstead! Do you often hear from the +Melvilles?"</p> + +<p>"Not very often—I am a bad correspondent."</p> + +<p>These letters were Verona's constant difficulty, she could not +tell the truth—also, she could not tell falsehoods. She loved Mrs. +Melville even more than ever, but she dared not acquaint her with her +unfortunate condition. There is loyalty to one's kindred—be they +who they may—rich or poor, black or white. Her letters home were +consequently constrained; after the first mention of her relatives she +rarely named them. Mrs. Melville could read between the lines. The +child was disillusioned and depressed.</p> + +<p>"What funny people they were," resumed Mrs. Barwell.</p> + +<p>Verona's friends had never struck her as particularly humorous. +Possibly Mrs. Barwell thought them "funny," because they had never +cultivated her acquaintance in former days, when she was Miss Snoad.</p> + +<p>"By-the-way, what a wretched match Margery made!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" protested her friend, "she is extremely happy."</p> + +<p>"But he had scarcely a penny besides his pay, and that girl had the +advantage of the very best county society. What <i>is</i> the good of county +society, and being exclusive, if you can't do better than that? Of +course, she was no beauty; indeed, for my part, I always thought her +very plain."</p> + +<p>During the conversation Dominga sat aloof, totally unabashed by her +icy reception, and stared round the room exhaustively. It resembled +its mistress—it was cheap and showy, not dark and gloomy, with heavy +hangings and solid furniture, like the drawing-room at Manora, but +light and gay. The walls were coloured bright green, and covered with +large fans and small mirrors; quantities of wickerwork chairs were +dressed in gaudy flounced cretonne.</p> + +<p>Over the floor were scattered numbers of deer-skins, mounted on red +flannel. Whilst her sister and Mrs. Barwell talked of home, Dominga +presently rose from her seat, strolled around examining the photographs +and ornaments, as calmly and critically as if they were so many lots +at auction. Meanwhile Mrs. Barwell followed her movements with angry +eyes. Just at this moment two ladies were ushered in, Mrs. Palgrave +and Miss Richards, the Colonel's wife and sister. Mrs. Palgrave was +tall and slight; her face was rather plain, but animated, and she had a +charming smile. Her sister was a handsome, bright-looking girl of about +five-and-twenty. They were both remarkably well dressed, and appeared +to be in the highest spirits. Mrs. Barwell received them effusively, +but did not attempt to present the other ladies. Her slight civility to +Verona had now become congealed.</p> + +<p>"So you have just come from the rehearsal?" she began, making room for +Mrs. Palgrave beside her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we are quite worn out with our exertions, at least, Dolly is. I +am merely chaperone, critic, peacemaker, and prompter."</p> + +<p>"How are you getting on?" turning to Miss Richards.</p> + +<p>"Only pretty well. Mrs. Norton and Mrs. Long have been squabbling, and +Captain Prescott has thrown up his part. He won't act; I cannot imagine +why he is so cross."</p> + +<p>"But I know," said Mrs. Palgrave, with a laugh. "It is his liver. +Whenever he has a touch of liver, he always becomes argumentative and +cynical, and says no woman under forty is worth speaking to."</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Mrs. Barwell, "then there is no one to suit +him here—we are all too juvenile."</p> + +<p>"Like Baby Charles, such a dear boy, who is acting with me," said Miss +Richards. "He is so young, and so pleased with everything—hockey, +cricket, racquets; he really should have a child's part."</p> + +<p>"And what <i>is</i> his part?" asked Mrs. Barwell.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he is my <i>fiancé</i>, but he can't make love a bit—although he is +<i>in</i> love."</p> + +<p>"Pray, how do you know, Dolly?" demanded her sister, and her tone was +authoritative.</p> + +<p>"Well, he wears a very badly knitted green tie, a shocking affair! I +have remonstrated with him about it, and told him I will not be engaged +to him unless he leaves it off; it entirely spoils his appearance, but +he still clings to his green tie, and blushes when I chaff him, and +looks quite hurt. I am perfectly convinced that <i>she</i> made it. Does +anyone know," laughing and looking round the room, "a young lady in +this neighbourhood who knits ties?"</p> + +<p>Verona glanced instinctively at her sister and their eyes met. Dominga +had been deeply interested in the conversation, and there was a tinge +of colour in her cheeks which added to her appearance; she looked +brilliantly handsome. Verona, aloof and ignored, had felt the irony of +Mrs. Barwell's insolence eating into her very soul—and now rose to +depart.</p> + +<p>"What," cried her hostess, "why are you going away? you know—I <i>asked</i> +you to tea."</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much, but we really cannot stay." She glanced +imploringly at Dominga, who nevertheless remained rooted to her chair, +and returned her sister's look with a stare of bold defiance. No, no! +she would not stir. Seeing this <i>impasse</i>, Mrs. Barwell turned to +Verona, and said:</p> + +<p>"I cannot let you run away like this—here is tea—do sit down, and +don't be silly. I am sure you have no <i>other</i> engagement!"</p> + +<p>In the meanwhile Miss Richards was talking to Dominga, and conversation +now became general. Presently Dominga drew Miss Richards' attention to +a photograph of her hostess, over which she went into audible raptures. +Now Mrs. Barwell was not insensible to flattery, she liked to inhale +it in strong doses. She was pleased to hear Dominga comparing her +photograph to Mary Anderson—the comparison being considerably to her +advantage.</p> + +<p>After all, "Red Chandos" was not a bad sort of girl; she was really +beautifully dressed, undoubtedly handsome, and, if the men were to be +believed, "great fun." She accorded one or two words to her visitor, +and the favourable impression was deepened.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs. Barwell," said Dominga, "I did so want to see your pretty +room." Here was a half apology. "I'd heard so much about it—and it +really is perfectly charming; I hope you don't mind my saying so."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Barwell did not mind at all, but coldly appropriated the +compliment as her due, and Dominga—who would always be very useful in +any house but her own—stood up, and began to help her with the tea +things.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Salwey is stage manager, is he not?" said Mrs. Barwell.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and such a capital one," replied Mrs. Palgrave, as she helped +herself to cake; "immovable, implacable, a sort of armour-plated man, +whom nothing can ruffle! I wish you could have seen him to-day, when +those two women were talking hard to one another about a certain scene, +neither listening to one single word the other said. Mr. Salwey stood +by, gently throwing in occasional blocks of solid sense."</p> + +<p>"Had it any effect?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, ultimately. I like Mr. Salwey; I always think it is such a +pity that he is not in the Service!"</p> + +<p>"I am sure he thoroughly agrees with you," sneered Mrs. Barwell.</p> + +<p>"And why is he not in the Army?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it is all owing to his stepmother," explained Mrs. Palgrave. +"George knows his father, Colonel Salwey, such a smart dapper old beau. +He came in for a very nice property after he left the Army; his wife +died, leaving this one boy, to whom he was apparently devoted."</p> + +<p>"<i>Was</i>—yes?"</p> + +<p>"But at some foreign watering-place he came across a pretty little +fluffy-haired, plaintive widow, who beguiled him into marrying her, +and completely metamorphosed the old gentleman. Brian Salwey failed +for his first examination at Sandhurst; then he quarrelled with his +odious stepmother, so got no second chance. She bundled him out of his +father's house, out of the country, and into the Indian police: for she +did not want a great big stepson hanging about at home."</p> + +<p>"Oh, here they all come," exclaimed Mrs. Barwell, as five men followed +one another into the room.</p> + +<p>The first to enter was Colonel Palgrave, a tall, handsome, soldierly +man, a little bald, with a hearty, cheery voice; Major Barwell, +a short, formal-looking gentleman, with a skin like a winter +apple—considerably older than his wife; Captain Prescott, a dark young +man, in polo kit, with a sallow complexion; Charles Young, a handsome +boy—though two-and-twenty, he looked about nineteen—bubbling over +with good humour, vitality, and <i>joie de vivre</i>. Last, not least, Brian +Salwey.</p> + +<p>These men soon dispersed themselves about the room, each seeking the +lady of his choice (they were all apparently acquainted with Dominga +Chandos—and perhaps a little surprised to find her in the present +company; when Charlie's merry eyes fell on her, he blushed up to his +ears), and presently the talk grew loud and brisk, concerning "shop" +and theatricals, theatricals and "shop."</p> + +<p>"I do think it is such a shame," said Mrs. Barwell, during a pause in +the general buzz, "that my husband won't allow <i>me</i> to act," and she +looked at him coquettishly. "It is really too bad of you, Bingham, +to have such strict old-fashioned ideas. I know"—addressing the +company—"you all have such fun at the rehearsals."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what <i>you</i> call fun," remarked Captain Prescott, with +an aggrieved air. "It's worse than being at school again. I had to +mug up my part with a wet towel round my head. I worked myself up to +a tremendous pitch for a great love scene, and was told for my pains +that my voice sounded for all the world like a dog, whining outside a +door!—so naturally I chucked."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I assure you, it's not all beer and skittles, Mrs. Barwell," +supplemented Charles Young, who was half sitting on a table. "What <i>do</i> +you think. They want me to cut off my moustache!"</p> + +<p>At this there was a roar of laughter, his moustache being represented +by a very faint outline of delicate down.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, I suppose we ought to go on to the polo," said Colonel +Palgrave, putting down his tea-cup, "perhaps we shall lose something +good."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Barwell immediately agreed, hurried into her bedroom, and +returned in a second, in a flowery hat, and the party sallied forth on +foot. Verona found herself walking beside Mrs. Palgrave; she had a good +face and a charmingly sympathetic manner. Verona had heard that the +wife of the commanding officer was a most popular lady, and Blanche's +tale, that she and the major's wife did not speak, was obviously a +fable.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Palgrave, although but eight-and-thirty years of age, was a deputy +parent to all "the boys." She listened to their troubles, and had them +to dine on Sundays; she nursed them when they were ill; she wrote to +their mothers, and generally kept her eye on them. She was, moreover, +a treasure to her husband; managed all the sewing clubs and mothers' +meetings, visited hospitals, had never made the slightest effort to +marry her sister in the regiment, and was generally respected and +beloved.</p> + +<p>"I've not seen you before," she remarked to Verona. (But she had heard +of her.) "And now you have found your way into the station, I hope some +day you will come and spend an afternoon with me."</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much," was the girl's non-committal answer.</p> + +<p>She did not wish to mix in station society.</p> + +<p>"I think it is very likely that we have some mutual friends."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we have."</p> + +<p>"Do you act at all?"</p> + +<p>"No, I prefer to be one of the audience."</p> + +<p>"Then you will come in and see these theatricals, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"By-the-way, Lucy," interrupted Colonel Palgrave, hurrying up to join +them, "I forgot to tell you that young Fielder has arrived; I daresay +he will be at the polo—I'll bring him up and present him to you."</p> + +<p>"Another boy?" she asked, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Well, not exactly, I should say he is six or seven-and-twenty; +you know he comes to us from the Guards, with the reputation of a +lady-killer."</p> + +<p>"The Guards," she repeated. "Really!"</p> + +<p>"I fancy he has been going ahead a bit, and his father, Lord +Highstreet, has sent him out to India to us."</p> + +<p>(Verona lagged behind—surely this intimate sort of conversation was +not intended for her ears.)</p> + +<p>"I see," assented Mrs. Palgrave, "as a sort of punishment. What a +compliment to the regiment!"</p> + +<p>"Well, the exchange has been effected merely with the idea of getting +him into another set."</p> + +<p>"You have seen him, of course?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, and he has no resemblance to one's preconceived idea of a +naughty boy—perfectly self-possessed, cheery, and rather good-looking."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he may be an acquisition, after all."</p> + +<p>By this time they were at the polo ground. Mrs. Palgrave waited a +moment for Verona, and said:</p> + +<p>"My husband has been telling me about a new officer who has just +joined, a Captain Fielder. We have some chairs and rugs near the +tent—won't you come and sit by me?"</p> + +<p>A large and motley native crowd were assembled on the edge of the +ground, their brilliant red and yellow garments giving a touch of +colour to the scene, and the game was already in full swing. As +Verona accepted Mrs. Palgrave's invitation, she noticed that Dominga +and Mr. Young appeared to have a great deal to say to one another; +unquestionably they had not met for the first time to-day.</p> + +<p>On the contrary, as we know, Charlie Young and Miss Dominga were fast +friends—little Charlie was constantly chaffed about his infatuation +for "Red Chandos," and bore jokes and gibes with a good temper that +discouraged and, at the same time, disarmed his tormentors.</p> + +<p>"I say, I can't tell you how surprised and delighted I was to find you +at Mrs. Barwell's," he murmured, as he walked beside his enchantress.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my sister met her at home," rejoined Dom, in her most off-hand +manner; "that is why we were asked to tea. Verona knows hundreds of +swells. Do tell me what you think? Do you call her pretty?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, uncommonly good-looking, but rather sad—a bit down on her +luck, I should say."</p> + +<p>"People seem to think she will cut out everyone in Rajahpore."</p> + +<p>"Except you. No fear of that, darling."</p> + +<p>"Hush, Charlie, you really <i>must</i> be careful——"</p> + +<p>"Well, tell me about your sister. Where has she been all this time?"</p> + +<p>"At home—living among all the grandees, and so rich—and having such a +good time. But her friend died, and her money went to others—such an +awful shame. She used to know Princes, and Dukes, and Lords."</p> + +<p>"Oh! then I'm afraid we can't do much for her in that line out here. +Our nearest approach is the only son of a lord, who joined the regiment +three days ago."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my! really. Who is he? Do tell me about him, Charlie, dear."</p> + +<p>"Well, his name is Fielder—the Honourable James Fitzalan Egbert +Fielder, son and heir of Lord Highstreet, late of the Guards."</p> + +<p>"Why has he come out to India?"</p> + +<p>"I believe—this is strictly between you and me—he was sent out by +his father because he got into some mess with a lady—he is a great +lady's man. He wanted to marry a tremendously frisky widow, years older +than himself. And so his people shoved him out here, to get him out of +harm's way. That's the story. Of course, it may be a lie."</p> + +<p>"What is he like?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not much to look at—sleek, well-groomed, drawling sort. A cool +hand, I should imagine; says he is awfully keen on seeing active +service. I don't fancy he is up to much of a rough campaign—more of +a fine fellow strolling down Piccadilly. However, he has taken to us +kindly, and professed himself delighted to join the regiment. Not like +that chap who, when he was asked what the new corps was, said, 'I +don't know, but you go from Waterloo—and they have green facings!'"</p> + +<p>"His family are old, I suppose?" enquired Dominga, to whom this +anecdote was the purest Greek.</p> + +<p>"Old—oh, lord, yes! I expect they paddled over with the Conqueror."</p> + +<p>"We are an old family, too," announced Miss Dominga, turning her head +slowly from side to side. "Though father never talks—he is in the +Landed Gentry book—you can see it at the Club—and we are the Chandos +of Charne."</p> + +<p>Little Mr. Young, much as he adored his companion, could scarcely +restrain a smile, to hear a Chandos of Manora boasting in this fashion. +Her people were terrible. No, he never attempted to defend them. Her +quarrelling, pushing, half-caste mother, her dusky brother and sister, +her father—the old broken officer, who, it was said, took opium.</p> + +<p>But his Dominga stood apart from these. She shone like a star against +a dark sky. Some day he would marry her—not her family. Yes, the +infatuated youth, aged twenty-two, with one hundred pounds a year and +his pay, had determined to make Dominga his wife. Their engagement was +to be kept secret until the regiment moved to another station—the +Colonel would cut up rusty if he heard of it, and hustle him off to the +depôt in England; he objected to married subalterns. The Honourable +Jimmy was dispatched to India because he wanted to marry someone at +home—and it would be odd if he was packed off home because he intended +to marry a girl in India.</p> + +<p>Whilst he was pondering over this idea, his fair ladylove, who strolled +beside him, was occupied with other thoughts. She was unusually silent, +and when she did speak, her answers were somewhat brief and distrait.</p> + +<p>At the present moment her glance was alert with excitable watchfulness, +and her mind was filled with eager speculations respecting the +newcomer. Had luck at last thrown fortune in her way? Was this young +future lord her fate? Her fate, come to seek her in this out-of-the-way +corner of the world! Her face looked vivid and her eyes dilated as she +recalled her grandmother's prediction, that "Dominga would wear jewels, +and stand in a great light." And what of Baby Charles?</p> + +<p>By this time they had arrived at the polo ground, where a place near +the tent was reserved exclusively for the party. Captain Prescott rode +up to them proudly on his new polo pony, a recent investment.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, Prescott," cried Charlie Young; "where did you rise the animal? +Did you get him out of the Zoo?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he rejoined, with the utmost gravity; "don't you remember him +when you were in the monkey-house?"</p> + +<p>Dominga received this sally with a peal of laughter—this sort of wit +appealed to her at once.</p> + +<p>And Verona now saw Dominga in the society of men for the first time. +She appeared to be enjoying herself prodigiously, and was what may be +called "a quarrelsome flirt." Tossing her head, she said to one:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Cox, I am not going to speak to you! Please pass on. You never +came for that set of tennis. No! no! no!" and she turned her back +on him with considerable dramatic effect. "Yes—and here is Captain +Hibbert, just as bad! You wicked, faithless man, how can you look me in +the face! Where is the novel that you promised me? You have fallen in +my esteem to the bottom of the ladder."</p> + +<p>"But won't you allow me to crawl up again?" he implored, with his hands +in the attitude of prayer.</p> + +<p>"No, certainly not; go away—do!"</p> + +<p>By and by most of the men drifted away to play polo, and Major Gale +captured "Baby" Charles, who departed with pitiable reluctance. And +now Dominga and Mrs. Barwell fell into conversation, which, as time +went on, became more intimate and more animated. Dominga's purrings and +flatteries tickled the little lady's vanity and softened her heart; +she discovered that Dominga Chandos was not "half bad," but a really +agreeable girl, with plenty to say for herself, and full of news (such +delicious little spiteful stories). Dominga had learned the fact that +you may be risky—but never dull. Before they parted, Mrs. Barwell had +invited her delighted acquaintance to come in and spend a long day with +her soon. Oh, triumph! Oh, goal attained! Oh, success!</p> + +<p>All at once Colonel Palgrave reappeared out of the crowd near the tent, +accompanied by a young man, wearing the colours of a well-known cricket +club. He had quick, red-brown eyes, sleek brown hair, a pale, impassive +face, and a well-knit figure. He was presented to Mrs. Palgrave and her +sister—to Mrs. Barwell and to Mrs. Tully. The stranger was completely +at his ease, charmed to make their acquaintance, and somehow managed to +convey the singular impression that he was an old resident—and that +they had but just arrived.</p> + +<p>On the whole, the general opinion of Captain Fielder was highly +favourable. "Oh, yes, he was already fascinated with what he had seen +of Rajahpore and India. He was sure it was a capital country for sport, +and," he added, with a peculiar slow smile, "amusement."</p> + +<p>When such topics as his journey, the dust, and a few items of home news +had been exhausted, his roving gaze distinguished the two sisters to +whom he had not been presented. He surveyed Verona calmly. Handsome? +Yes, but down in the mouth, and not his style. Then his glance passed +quickly to Dominga; their eyes met, and his opened suddenly with a bold +eager stare. Oh, there was the girl for his money! What hair! What +colouring! What a spice of the devil in that vivid face.</p> + +<p>Dominga certainly looked her best. She wore green, which was ever +becoming. Her figure was graceful, there was a brilliant colour in +her face, born of excitement; yes, she was undeniably striking and +attractive. Moreover, it was the first time that this poor Dominga +had ever beheld anyone connected with the aristocracy, and her +feelings were a mixture of admiration and awe. "The Honourable," as +she mentally called him, appeared at the first glance to be somewhat +similar to other men, but her imagination lost no time in investing +the newcomer with an air of distinction, and every quality which is +generally considered necessary to the equipment of a perfect hero of +romance. He approached and muttered something to Charlie Young, and Dom +received a delightful and unexpected shock when she understood that +Captain Fielder desired to be presented to her. He had singled her out +from all the other girls! This was indeed the proudest moment in the +life of Dominga Chandos! She coloured charmingly, her eyes sparkled, +her face broke into smiles—for an instant her beauty was transcendent! +Ungrateful Dominga gradually ignored, and soon entirely forgot, poor +little Charlie, and presently abandoned him in order to go and sit on +a distant bench with Captain the Hon. James Fielder, the new arrival, +just then so very much in the public eye; and Dominga took care that +they placed themselves where the public eye could behold them without +unnecessary inconvenience.</p> + +<p>Verona noticed at a distance Mrs. Trotter and her two unattractive +daughters. As they appeared to be rather "out of it," and forlorn, she +walked over and spoke to them. Mrs. Trotter accorded Verona a civil +welcome, and as usual conversed chiefly about home.</p> + +<p>"Oh, ho! it is very plain to see that <i>you</i> have been in England!" +she remarked, as she glanced over at Dominga, who was now too lofty +to notice the Trotters, and had cut them dead. "It is plain that you +know what's what; you have some manners—not like that 'Crannie' girl, +Dominga."</p> + +<p>Fortunately, at this point, Mr. Salwey came up and joined the group, +and the topic was changed. The Trotter family were visibly gratified +by his attention; but after a little conversation he carried off Miss +Chandos, and invited her to walk round the outside of the polo ground +and see the ponies.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI</h2> +</div> + + +<p>In the meanwhile Dominga and Captain Fielder lounged on a +bench—conspicuously aloof from the crowd. A somewhat constrained +silence had fallen between them; he was wondering if this handsome +girl, with talking eyes and vivid expression, was "good fun"? She +was meditating as to whether she might treat him as just a common, +every-day officer, or not? Dom had finally made up her mind—as she +looked up quickly and met his full, bold stare, a stare so prolonged +and searching that another girl would have felt affronted and abashed; +not so Dominga.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she asked, raising her eyebrows interrogatively. "Now, tell me +candidly, what do you think of them?"</p> + +<p>"Er—think of what?" he stammered, obviously a little startled.</p> + +<p>"My eyes—what else?" said the girl, with disconcerting bravado.</p> + +<p>"Oh—by Jove! they are splendid. Er—I was not quite sure of the colour +five minutes ago. I'd have sworn they were black; now I see they are +greenish brown——"</p> + +<p>"And in another five minutes they may be a greyish blue—one thing I +can promise, they are never red."</p> + +<p>"Do you never cry? Oh, come now! Every woman cries."</p> + +<p>"Pray, why should I cry?" she asked, with a touch of defiance.</p> + +<p>"But you must have some sort of escape for your feelings?"</p> + +<p>"Not necessarily. I have no feelings."</p> + +<p>"Then you are one of the sights of India! What more uncommon than +a woman who has eyes like a chameleon, who never cries, and has no +feelings? You are a marvel, Miss Chandos!"</p> + +<p>"But I am not really Miss Chandos. I am only number four, and I am +called Dominga."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens—what a name! Where <i>did</i> they find it?"</p> + +<p>"In foreign parts. My grandfather—was Portuguese."</p> + +<p>"Have you no pet name—at home?"</p> + +<p>"They call me 'Dom'—when we are by ourselves."</p> + +<p>"Er—may I call you 'Dom'—when we are by ourselves?" As he spoke +Captain Fielder hitched himself an inch nearer and assumed his most +insinuating expression.</p> + +<p>"This seat is intended for two," she remarked, giving him a little tap +with her parasol. "If you want the whole of it, please say so. As to +calling me 'Dom,'—we shall never be by ourselves again——"</p> + +<p>"Pray why not? Don't you like me?" he asked pathetically.</p> + +<p>"Because," ignoring the second question, "I am not in society."</p> + +<p>"Then I am sorry for society. Why do you call yourself an outsider?"</p> + +<p>"We are—only the sugar people!"</p> + +<p>"Er-r, now I understand my sensations, the instant I saw you; you +looked too sweet for words!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be silly, and please don't run away with the idea that I am +either soft or sweet. I leave that sort of thing to Pussy and Verona."</p> + +<p>"Verona, is a town—Dominga, I <i>think</i>, is an island; Has your mother a +craze for geography?"</p> + +<p>"Verona's name is really Veronica."</p> + +<p>"Why have you such—curious names?"</p> + +<p>"Can't you guess?" she asked, looking at him out of the corner of her +eyes.</p> + +<p>Her companion shook his head in hopeless ignorance.</p> + +<p>"Then I will tell you, and when you know us better you will see how +well our names fit! We are called after two saints!"</p> + +<p>Captain Fielder's broad grin and incredulous wink went a long way in +advancing his intimacy with this lively companion.</p> + +<p>"Now, tell me, why are you so down on yourself? It's a mistake—you +should leave that sort of thing to other people—they do it so <i>much</i> +better. You said you were not sweet, and that you have no feelings. I +am sure you were wrong."</p> + +<p>"No——"</p> + +<p>"Er—well, I won't take your word for it; I mean to find out for +myself."</p> + +<p>"You will not have the opportunity. After to-day the station +ladies—who are very jealous of me——"</p> + +<p>"By Jove, I don't wonder at that!" he interpolated with decision.</p> + +<p>"Will fence you in—with barbed wire!"</p> + +<p>"Oh—will they?" with a derisive laugh. "It is not very easy to keep +Jimmy Fielder in bounds! Ask papa?"</p> + +<p>"See—they are all staring over here now," and she pointed with her +parasol. "They are ready to tear my eyes out."</p> + +<p>"I'll take care of your beautiful and matchless eyes. You just leave +them to me."</p> + +<p>"I can take pretty good care of myself, thank you. What do you think of +Rajahpore, Captain Fielder?"</p> + +<p>"I adore it already."</p> + +<p>"What a ridiculous answer. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because it has made me acquainted with you."</p> + +<p>"How can you be so silly?"</p> + +<p>"I was born so. Tell me, how do <i>you</i> put in your time here?"</p> + +<p>"Oh—I sing a good deal, I have a wonderful voice—and I bicycle, +and—I read—and play tennis."</p> + +<p>"Can you read—French?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course."</p> + +<p>"Then I can lend you some ripping novels!"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," rather stiffly; assume a virtue if you have it not. +Dom had once laboured through a few French exercises, and could no more +read a page than ride a steeplechase.</p> + +<p>But Jimmy was promptly taken in, and impressed.</p> + +<p>"Proper, good little girl! Well, I must confess—some of them—are—a +bit—strong."</p> + +<p>"You would not lend them to your sisters, I presume?" adopting her +well-known quarrelsome attitude, "though you offer them to <i>me</i>."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've no sisters, thank the Lord! As to offering the books—you +might have jumped at them. I did not know what sort you were. You see, +a fellow never can tell——"</p> + +<p>"I see Verona looking this way. She is coming to fetch me——"</p> + +<p>"Er—is she your keeper? Has she got you on the chain?"</p> + +<p>"No; I should pity her if she had!"</p> + +<p>"Then you and I are in sympathy—a pair of bold, independent spirits. +When shall I see you again—Dom?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps to-morrow at the Club."</p> + +<p>"Oh, so you come to the Club. Hurrah!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, for books and tennis; but we are complete outsiders, as you will +soon discover."</p> + +<p>"You will never be an outsider to me, Dom—already you have your +place——"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she demanded. "What place?"</p> + +<p>"Only the box seat in my heart."</p> + +<p>"Heart!" she repeated with a scornful laugh. "No one talks of hearts in +these days—except the heroes of stories in penny magazines."</p> + +<p>As she spoke Dominga rose, and drew herself to her full height. She was +two inches taller than Jimmy, who gazed at her in profound admiration. +Yes; already he was caught and enthralled by her audacity and +insolence, and entangled in the meshes of her splendid burnished hair.</p> + +<p>"Dom," said Verona as she joined her, "it is past six o'clock, and we +must be going home."</p> + +<p>"Very well," assented Dominga, "I am ready." But she did not attempt +to make her sister and "Jimmy" known to one another. No, she would +not share the captive of her bow and spear—that is to say, eye and +tongue—she was determined to keep him exclusively to herself. (Dom +knew what girls did, being a most daring and successful poacher!)</p> + +<p>Jimmy stared at this Miss Chandos, who looked and spoke like a +well-bred English lady, and yet was Dominga's own sister. What did +it mean? Dom, with all her charm, spoke with a quaint, half-foreign +accent, and her manners decidedly lacked the repose which stamped the +caste of Vere de Vere, whilst Verona—the other girl, "the slow one," +as he already classed her, was Vere de Vere—and no mistake!</p> + +<p>As Dominga crossed the polo ground attended by her new slave, she +tossed her head and flounced her skirts, and glared at spectators as +much as to say, "Don't you wish you were in my shoes?" When she stepped +into the victoria she leant forward, and smiled with cruel exultation +at the Watkins and the Trotters—they could not fail to have seen "the +Honourable" tucking the dust cover over her knees. They knew that <i>she</i> +had got into society at last!</p> + +<p>As Dominga was driven homewards her body was unquestionably in the +shabby victoria, but her mind was in the seventh heaven!</p> + +<p>"He" had chosen her out from among all the women in the station. "He" +had called her "Dom," and, at parting, had given her fingers a fierce, +emphatic squeeze, from the effects of which they were still tingling!</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Mrs. Barwell, who had never previously had it in her power to patronise +any one, now thoroughly enjoyed the novel experience. She issued +continual "commands" to Verona and Dominga Chandos, and the latter +waited on her constantly, and soon became an established favourite; her +flatteries were so piquant and unfailing. But Verona disliked attending +the "drawing rooms" of her former acquaintance and present patroness; +she found ample occupation at home, reading with Pussy and Nicky, +rowing with them on the river, bicycling about the district, teaching +her grandmother to knit, and reviving her father's old attachment to +games. Now and then she spent a long evening in his room, playing +piquet, or discussing books and places and people. Paul Chandos was +a well-read man, a cultivated and delightful companion; strange that +this cultivated, clear-headed gentleman should start and shrivel into +silence when he heard the sound of his wife's quick footfall and +rasping tongue! Undoubtedly he enjoyed these evening hours with Verona, +but she had an instinct that these <i>tête-à-tête</i> were not looked +upon with favour by her mother; indeed, she had a secret, a dreadful +conviction that her mother disliked her. In little indescribable ways, +this fact was brought home to her a dozen times a day.</p> + +<p>When Verona had recovered from the paralysing shock of her first +sensations, and after her illness had crept back to life and good +resolutions, she made a bold effort to win her mother's affections.</p> + +<p>In every possible way she endeavoured to capture her approval. She +worked in the garden, she mended, and made, and darned and trimmed. +She was prepared to accept cheerfully this life of renunciation and +self-denial; but oh! how dark and dreary it would be without a little +love. Her mother was devoted to Dominga; her eyes and voice seemed +different when she spoke to her. Why should she not venture to ask for +some crumbs; she, too, was her mother's daughter? Though not naturally +demonstrative, she one day astonished and exasperated Mrs. Chandos by +clinging to her with tears as she begged her "to spare her—though she +came so late—a little of the affection she gave to the others; it +would make her <i>so</i> happy."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chandos, when she had recovered from her surprise, stared +critically at her daughter and exclaimed, "My, what a funny girl! Why, +of course I love you!" and she accorded her a hasty kiss. "You get lots +of love; your Nani is awfully fond of you—so is Pussy; so am I. No!"</p> + +<p>But yet, in spite of this declaration, Verona felt that between her and +her mother was fixed a gulf, which widened daily; indeed, she still had +the dreadful, secret conviction that her mother actually disliked her. +But why?</p> + +<p>Sometimes, her father was ill—so said Mrs. Lopez; sometimes for three +or four evenings his door would be shut fast, and the old lady would +assure her, with a potent nod, that "Chandos was not for reading; he +was <i>fatigued</i>, he was 'a little seek,' and wanted to be quiet," and +once the girl overheard her mutter, "Truly, it is easier to be rid of +your shadow, than a bad habit."</p> + +<p>Poor man! he was in the grip of the opium fiend, and lived in a +delightful dream-country in his arm-chair, with drowsy eyes and folded, +wasted hands. After one of these attacks, Verona noticed that his +features were haggard, his eyes dull and bloodshot, his spirits most +desperately depressed; also, that all tender inquiries and expressions +of sympathy were somewhat curtly set aside.</p> + +<p>It was now the very height of the cold season. Rajahpore was full, the +cane crop was being cut, and every one seemed busy. One day Mrs. Lepell +sent her protégée a little note, which said:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Verona</span>,—</p> + +<p>"Would you care to go over the factory? I am expecting a party this +afternoon, and Tom has promised to show them round the works. Manora +people are sick of them, but it will be a novelty to you.</p> + +<p class="ph2">"E. L."</p> +</div> + +<p>Verona accepted the invitation with pleasure, and when she arrived +at the big bungalow there found assembled Major Gale, Major and Mrs. +Barwell, Mr. Salwey and various strangers from Rajahpore. Mr. Lepell +personally conducted the party round the yards; here he pointed out the +great carts, laden with sugar-cane, just brought in by buffaloes.</p> + +<p>"Now, here you see it at the start," he said. "Later on, you shall see +it in the sugar bowl."</p> + +<p>Guided by him the visitors explored the entire factory—saw the mills +grinding the cane, saw the black sugar in liquid form, the refining +processes, the furnaces; last of all, the loaf sugar in blue paper +caps, ready for departure. Then they inspected the distillery, and the +gigantic casks of rum—intended for the use of the army. Mr. Lepell was +an enthusiast, and harangued his guests eloquently—"Sugar" was his +text—then he gave them a long object-lesson in machinery; finally, +they climbed up a winding, spiral staircase, and stood on the flat roof +of the factory, and surveyed the whole country—a dead level, with +nothing to break the monotony but an occasional village or mango tope.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a sea of cultivation and crops!" exclaimed Verona.</p> + +<p>"Yes," assented Mr. Lepell; "India is agriculture, agriculture is +India. All around you see the cane; it is a good year. The chief +industry here, of course, is sugar. There are scores of private mills."</p> + +<p>"What are they like?" some one asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, primitive affairs—a rude wheel, an ox driven round and round to +crush the cane; then there is a hole in the floor, and a furnace to +boil the stuff into goor, or treacle."</p> + +<p>"I suppose the people are very well off," said Verona, turning to Mr. +Salwey.</p> + +<p>"They ought to be," he replied; "the cultivators pay about fifteen +rupees an acre for cane, which in a good season produces two or three +hundred rupees' worth of juice; but they are all in debt to the +money-lenders."</p> + +<p>"How is that?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you see they have no savings or capital; they live hand to +mouth. For a marriage, a birth or a funeral, they must spend largely; +it is a tradition handed down for centuries; they borrow money on the +coming crop, say two hundred rupees—that is fifteen pounds. For this +the money-lender takes as interest, one anna per rupee per month, +which is seventy per cent.; it runs up like the celebrated nail in +the horse's shoe! The unfortunate ryot soon finds that the interest +has trebled the original debt; in a short time the account will show +that all the money due from his harvest, does not half cover the first +advance! and still the interest on the debt rolls on month after +month. The cultivator who once pawns his crop never gets out of the +money-lender's power, but the money-lender allows him enough grain +to keep the wretched man alive—who, sooner than be turned from his +paternal home, becomes his bond slave for life."</p> + +<p>"Is it not dreadful?" Verona exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes; the usurer makes enormous profits, and allows the other just what +keeps soul and body together. He is careful not to kill the goose who +lays the golden eggs—his manner is always most kind and sympathetic! +The old story of burying money in a pot is dying out; usury has taken +its place. Most of the money paid down in that office," and he nodded +to the building below, "goes to them."</p> + +<p>"Can it not be prevented in some way, Mr. Salwey?"</p> + +<p>"I'm always trying to stop it, but with little success; there are men +in the city, living at their ease, and piling up thousands, while +these"—pointing to the broad expanse of cane land and the swarms of +workers below—"toil."</p> + +<p>"Usury is the ancient custom of the country," she remarked.</p> + +<p>"So was once suttee. It is the curse of India."</p> + +<p>"Do you know any of the money-lenders?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; some of the native bankers are fair and square. It is the private +ones, who are the fiends. They have neither fear nor pity. They charge +daily interest, they count their victims by hundreds—their slaves; for +generations they toil always for the money-lender; children succeed to +the family debts, which go from father to son; they represent valuable +live asset to the soucar, who fattens on their earnings! His only fear +or risk is the cholera, which sweeps away whole villages, and then +there is none left to pay! Many of these poor creatures do not know +what it is to have two meals a day. I could not have believed, had I +not seen it for myself, how abject is their poverty." Here he smothered +a sigh.</p> + +<p>"What a hopeless state of affairs!" exclaimed the girl.</p> + +<p>"Yes; and they are content with so little. If a man has enough to eat, +a roof to cover him, a little tobacco for himself and some pewter +bangles for his wife, he asks no more."</p> + +<p>"He could not well ask for less!"</p> + +<p>"I declare I feel in a blazing rage when I think of his misery +and toil, and the wealth and indolence of those who are literally +devouring his life. Now, observe the people coming in with carts of +cane and barrels of juice; they are almost like skeletons, or is it +my imagination? There, you see, two of them are quarrelling about +something—possibly a copper coin, worth half a farthing. They often +quarrel; it is one of the most quarrelsome circles in India."</p> + +<p>"What do they quarrel about?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I can tell you," said Mr. Lepell, who was listening, "generally land. +In other countries people are attached to their ancestral acres; in +India it is a mania."</p> + +<p>"Have they never any amusements?" inquired Mrs. Barwell, who had +approached.</p> + +<p>"Yes; those who are pretty well off excel in wrestling matches; they +have quail and cock-fighting, and they are all fond of cards and +gambling and kite flying," said Mr. Lepell, "and now shall we go down +to tea?"</p> + +<p>Salwey and Verona still lingered on the roof; she was taking a last +long look at the scene, the winding river, the cane crops, the little +villages, the distant city. In the golden rays of a gorgeous sunset +India looked both rich and prosperous.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you think of it?" inquired Salwey.</p> + +<p>"I like it," she answered; "it is my native country; there is something +mysterious and fascinating about it. Even before I knew that I was born +out here, I yearned to come to India."</p> + +<p>"In short, you heard the East calling."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied, "and now I hear Mr. Lepell calling, and we must go."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Brian Salwey lived in a bungalow overhanging the river, and close to +the cantonments (he was honorary member of the mess). The rooms were +small and bare, but the stables were ample, and handsomely furnished. +Twice a week, in the cold weather, did Nicky Chandos row down the river +to do an hour's mathematics with his model and hero. Salwey had always +been sorry for the boy, and felt drawn to him; for with all his Eastern +lounging ways, his stiff brown hair and sallow skin, Nicky had brains, +had ambition and the inherited instincts of an English gentleman. Yes, +Salwey had encouraged the visits of young Chandos; he told him long +yarns about his own school-days, he lent him books, he lectured him, +he taught him how to row a boat—indeed, he taught him many things as +they sat together in the shabby little sitting-room that overlooked the +shining river. Salwey now began to realise that he took an additional +interest in Nicky, and looked forward with peculiar pleasure to his +visits and his talk; What, he asked himself honestly, did it mean?</p> + +<p>The answer was simple as A B C.</p> + +<p>It meant that Nicky had an attractive sister; to sum it all up in one +word, it meant "Verona." He caught his thoughts recalling her pale, +delicate beauty, her slow, reluctant smile, her air of detached, +unstudied repose. Evidently the newcomer was working wonders up +the river; she was wheeling Pussy into line; he noticed a distinct +improvement in Nicky's manners, which had previously left much to be +desired. He talked of good sets of tennis, and bicycling, rowing and +reading aloud. Home was such a jolly place since Verona had come! There +was no nonsense about her, and even Nani Lopez said she was "a jewel."</p> + +<p>But what was this "jewel" to him? Was he going to make a fool of +himself, and fall in love with this beautiful, unfortunate Eurasian? +What a mother-in-law! What a grandmother-in-law—as his Aunt Liz had +reminded him. And yet, why should he not think of Verona Chandos? His +life was lonely; he had no ties; his father had married a detestable +little adventuress, and had allowed her to thrust herself between them.</p> + +<p>(Colonel Salwey was a timidly good man, and ventured to write to his +son once a year—at Christmas.)</p> + +<p>Why should he not make his home in India? Do as he would, he could +not get the girl out of his head; she haunted him as he sat in his +verandah, or as he rode about the district, looking after his work. +"She is a half-caste," whispered a warning voice; "look at her sister +Blanche."</p> + +<p>On the other hand, old Mother Lopez was a truly good woman, +tender-hearted, simple and charitable. Little Mrs. Cavalho was in her +way an uncanonised saint. If the truth were really known and boldly +proclaimed, there was a certain amount of Eastern blood to be found in +English society! Many unconscious individuals were Eurasians, counting +back to the pagoda tree days of their grandfathers, and the spacious +times of Old John Company. If one must judge by appearances, Verona +Chandos might very easily be taken for the daughter of a hundred earls, +and, at any rate, on her father's side, her race was undeniable.</p> + +<p>Here came Nicky, rowing himself down from Manora, eager to enjoy +a promised lesson in practical chemistry, for Salwey dabbled in +photography and chemistry, and between his dark room and his amateur +laboratory, the vapours, sounds and explosions, one or two of his +myrmidons were under the impression that he kept an evil spirit on the +premises!</p> + +<p>A white bull terrier, called "Chum," the most intelligent and attached +of dumb friends, when he saw Inky Chandos toiling up the steep garden +from the boat, lashed his long whip tail, where he sat in the verandah, +and greeted him with an all but human grin of welcome. "Chum" was a +dear dog, and a courteous gentleman; the whole cantonment loved "Chum." +But he only loved his master—and Inky Chandos.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>It was the second week in January, the date of the Rajahpore +race-meeting, the one notable local event in the year. Every bungalow +in the station had several tents pitched in its compound for the +accommodation of guests; the Rest House was crammed; strange faces +were to be seen at the Club, and strings of unfamiliar ponies were +being exercised on the course. The great day dawned at last; it was, of +course, brilliantly fine, and the oldest resident was heard to declare +that the events on the cards, the class of entries, and the number +of visitors, had never been approached. Such a fête was naturally a +proper occasion for Mrs. Chandos to make an ostentatious appearance in +a wagonette with two horses; and the wagonette, which resembled a gay +parterre, contained the lady herself, Dominga, Pussy, Blanche, Monty, +Nicky, on the box, and last, not least, Verona, who would gladly have +been excused, but was compelled to come forth in her best remaining +dress and a pretty white hat—which fortunately had not happened to +have been becoming to Dominga.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chandos had secured tickets for the stand, and, previous to the +first event, she and her little clutch fluttered and strutted about +the enclosure with a notable amount of aggressive swagger. Salwey, who +had entered Baber, his black "Waler," for a hurdle race, was returning +from the stables when he encountered Verona and Nicky—who were walking +together, apart.</p> + +<p>"I say, would you two like to come into the paddock and see the +horses?" he said.</p> + +<p>They gladly accepted his invitation and accompanied him round the +stables, where he pointed out to them the different celebrities, and +gave a rapid sketch of their several careers, with their failings, +foibles, victories and defeats. Suddenly Verona found herself face to +face with a young man in a long racing coat, whose face seemed familiar.</p> + +<p>"Miss Chandos!" he exclaimed, halting immediately before her, and then +she recognised Captain Haig, who snatched off his cap and held out his +hand, saying:</p> + +<p>"This is, indeed, an unexpected pleasure! Pray, when did you arrive?"</p> + +<p>"Some time ago," she answered. "And you?"</p> + +<p>"Only this morning; I have two ponies entered, one of them a +celebrated performer; her name is"—and he looked at her with steady +significance—"V. C."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she ejaculated. "What an odd name for a pony."</p> + +<p>"Hallo, Salwey, how are you?" he said; "I did not see you"—then +he glanced interrogatively at the bony, half-caste youth, Salwey's +companion.</p> + +<p>"No," replied Salwey, "and yet I'm generally visible to the naked eye."</p> + +<p>"Miss Chandos and I," explained Captain Haig, "are—I hope I may +say—old friends; we met each other year before last at Homburg. Poor +Madame!" looking at Verona as he spoke, "so she is gone. What a cheery +old lady she was! Shall we take a turn round the paddock? I want to +show you your namesake." The young lady inclined her head and the pair +strolled off, leaving Salwey and Nicky alone.</p> + +<p>"I say," burst out Nicky, "I should not wonder if that fellow is a pal +of Verona's."</p> + +<p>"I should not wonder, either," repeated Salwey, and he became suddenly +silent. Meanwhile, Verona and Captain Haig moved slowly round the +paddock, where she was, as of old times, the cynosure of admiring eyes.</p> + +<p>Captain Haig considered her critically. She looked a little pale and +thin, but was as beautiful, as well turned out, as self-possessed +as ever. There was the same perfection of dress and perfection of +untroubled composure, and he had never forgotten her—so he imagined +now; she had exercised over him a lasting and vivid fascination.</p> + +<p>"I was in two minds about this meeting," he announced; "how glad I am +now I came."</p> + +<p>"Oh, are you?" she murmured vaguely.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I needn't tell you that I would thankfully travel many miles to +see <i>you</i>."</p> + +<p>To this over-blown compliment Verona made no reply; she was wondering +what he would say when he saw her mother and sisters!</p> + +<p>In the distance she caught sight of Dominga, splendidly dressed, +boisterous, shrill. A stranger might reasonably have suspected that +this laughing and chattering was the effects of champagne—they would +be mistaken. Dominga was merely intoxicated with her own supreme +happiness, her extraordinary social success.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you are out here for the cold weather?" resumed Captain +Haig. "It is quite the thing to do now."</p> + +<p>"No," she responded, "I am out for altogether—my people live here."</p> + +<p>"Here," he repeated, "how fortunate! How I should like to make their +acquaintance; I hope you will be good enough to present me to your +mother."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," she replied, with a somewhat fixed smile.</p> + +<p>Very soon, she assured herself, there would be an end to this fool's +paradise. It would be a case of he came—he saw—he fled.</p> + +<p>In the meantime she enjoyed walking about with Captain Haig. As +she glanced at his handsome, animated face, she seemed to see the +background of Homburg—the crowds, the bouquets, and to feel the +impression of a past sensation.</p> + +<p>Here, indeed, in a humble way, her presence was creating a stir, "the +other Miss Chandos," as she was now called, being so rarely seen; she +was handsome, and graceful, and carried herself well—"as did most +Eurasians," whispered onlookers.</p> + +<p>In a distant station, no doubt, she would be considered a beauty; +apparently she had picked up some young man she had known at home; +he seemed very much <i>épris</i>. Well! her conquest would be but +short-lived—he had but to see her people!</p> + +<p>"Of course, your regiment is still out here?" remarked the lady to her +escort.</p> + +<p>"Yes—in a bad station—where there is no sport—we can't even manœuvre +guns, the ground is all cotton soil—this is a jolly little place, I +wish they'd send us here—capital duck and snipe shooting."</p> + +<p>"Is that a sufficient reason to move troops?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"No—not at all—only it keeps the mess from grumbling—and the men out +of the bazaar. But," with a sudden change of tone, "I want to hear more +about you, Miss Chandos. How have you spent the last eighteen months?"</p> + +<p>"I was in England till August. I have been here ever since."</p> + +<p>"But you will soon be getting under way for the hills. I wonder what +station you will select?"</p> + +<p>"None at all—we remain down in Manora."</p> + +<p>"What! you are not serious—you have no conception of the heat—it will +kill you!"</p> + +<p>"I think not. I believe one's first hot weather is never very trying."</p> + +<p>"But, I assure you——"</p> + +<p>"Captain Haig," she interrupted, "I see that you have not +heard—Madame's death has made a great change in my circumstances—I am +now quite poor."</p> + +<p>He stopped for a second, and stared back into her face with a gaze of +blank surprise. After an expressive pause he spoke:</p> + +<p>"I can't imagine you—what is called 'poor.'"</p> + +<p>"Often I cannot realise it myself—but it is true—Madame left no +will—I was not related to her—all I have in the world is three +hundred pounds and some diamonds—now"—with a faint smile—"you know +the worst!"</p> + +<p>"What hard luck! I am awfully sorry," he began.</p> + +<p>"Thank you; but it is not so bad after all—I do not mind—much."</p> + +<p>If she, who had been brought up surrounded with all that money could +provide, "did not mind much," why should he? It was not her money which +had attracted him, but her most beautiful, dazzling self; and she was, +in his opinion, more lovely than ever, as she stood looking at him with +her dark pathetic eyes.</p> + +<p>He had recently come in for an unexpected windfall—a legacy of four +hundred a year—he could afford to marry and live quietly; his rapid +brain sketched the programme in a flash, and arranged the details of +his plans with calm celerity; her three hundred pounds would buy the +trousseau, etc., and he would take her to the hills for the honeymoon; +they would go to Cashmere. With Verona in Cashmere! Ah, but would +Verona come? He would have a good try, at any rate!</p> + +<p>"This is a capital little station," he remarked, with a swoop to +mundane matters.</p> + +<p>"At any rate, it seems to have made an immense impression on you," she +rejoined, with a smile; "this is the second time you have praised it +within five minutes!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, so it is. I think after the races I shall stop on—I have some +leave due, I should like to put it in here."</p> + +<p>"And have some duck-shooting?"</p> + +<p>"No—I was—thinking of golf with you—there are links, I know——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I never play now."</p> + +<p>"Then you must begin, again—it's splendid exercise. Do you remember +you started me at golf, and I'm now quite a respectable performer. I +wonder," suddenly lowering his voice, "if you remember—something else?"</p> + +<p>They were standing close to the railings which enclosed the course. +Verona looked at him with a hot colour in her face.</p> + +<p>"That I called you my Princess—you are my Princess still——"</p> + +<p>"Haig, Haig!" shouted a man, running up; "what the devil—oh, I beg +pardon"—glancing at the lady—"you are wanted in the weighing-room at +once—come on!"</p> + +<p>"The horses will be going down to the post," he said, turning to his +companion; "allow me to take you back to your seat."</p> + +<p>"No thanks," she rejoined quickly. "I know you are in a great hurry. It +is only a few steps. Please do go."</p> + +<p>"Well, I shall find you again when the race is over. Wish me luck," and +lifting his cap he ran off.</p> + +<p>The crowd was streaming out of the paddock as Verona turned in the same +direction; her heart was beating with unusual speed. He—although he +knew she was now penniless—was anxious to resume the story where it +had been interrupted. At least, he was not mercenary. Formerly she had +liked him—now—now—no—she could not have fallen in love in fifteen +minutes' time—impossible! But circumstances alter cases; at home among +a crowd of suitors he was not distinctive, here he stood forth as a +hero—a champion—it might be a saviour! Undoubtedly he loved her. If +he held out his hand she would accept it, and her release. Her burthen +had become intolerable; her fortitude was ebbing fast. Her mother's +humours, her mother's tongue were distracting; a recent long illness +had weakened her self-command. She felt desperate—and if she did +not love Malcolm Haig now, love would come. Perhaps he would ask her +to marry him—everything pointed that way. But he had not seen her +relations—how would they affect the situation? Formerly, she stood +above him; he was insignificant and impecunious; but at present their +positions were entirely reversed, and <i>he</i> must stoop to marry her. +All these thoughts were chasing one another through her mind as Verona +moved slowly forward, with the intention of joining her family.</p> + +<p>Yes, there they were—in the middle of the second tier; and never +before had they struck her as so dark, so over-dressed, and so +complacent. Blanche, in a scarlet felt hat and a purple velvet bolero, +trimmed with mother-of-pearl (which she had bought second-hand), was an +object that, so to speak, hit one in the eye; and even Pussy's sweet +face, above the pride of her wardrobe, the pink feather boa, had never +looked so dusky.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, Verona!" cried Blanche, half rising as she spoke. Blanche +occasionally gave the impression of being all eyes and teeth. "Do tell +us about the lovely young man you were walking with—who is he?"</p> + +<p>"I knew him at Homburg," she answered; "his name is Haig."</p> + +<p>"Oh, do bring him up and introduce him to <i>me</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Haig—Haig," repeated Monty, resplendent in lavender flannel and +a brilliant green tie, examining the card in his hand, "Captain +Haig, Enfield Regiment; he has two ponies—one in thees race, called +Dulcimer, and another, with such a funny name, entered for the Cup—V. +C."</p> + +<p>"V. C. is a ripping good pony," put in Nicky, who affected to be posted +in racing matters; "Salwey says so."</p> + +<p>"Choop! you and your Salwey!" ejaculated his mother with angry energy.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Salwey and Captain Haig had ascended to the top of the +stand, field-glasses in hand.</p> + +<p>"No start," remarked Salwey.</p> + +<p>"It's that brute Blue Devil," declared his companion; "he will keep +them there for twenty minutes. I would like to shoot him!"</p> + +<p>"I daresay you would," rejoined Salwey; "he is the favourite, and sold +for a thousand in the lotteries last night."</p> + +<p>"By the way, Salwey, you saw that Miss Chandos? I never was so +astonished as when I came face to face with her in the paddock here; +last time we met she was at Homburg, with every man in the place at her +feet."</p> + +<p>"Including yourself," suggested Salwey.</p> + +<p>"I should rather think so. Of course, a poor devil like me dared not +lift his eyes to fifteen thousand a year."</p> + +<p>"Then she is the original V. C."</p> + +<p>"What a brilliant guess! She tells me her people live here, and has +promised to introduce me."</p> + +<p>"Yes," assented Salwey, with dispassionate brevity.</p> + +<p>"I say, I've got a month's leave owing, and I intend to put it in here."</p> + +<p>"Hullo! they are off!" and there was a dead silence.</p> + +<p>The constantly moving dark clump had suddenly scattered into +items—there was a hum-hum-hum of thundering hoofs—a cloud of dust, a +flight of bright jackets, of bent backs and uplifted arms—they passed +the post, and Dulcimer had won by a neck.</p> + +<p>Captain Haig looked upon his success as a good omen. Beaming with +pride—and the fact of having won eight hundred rupees—he led his pony +into the paddock, and subsequently hurried out to the enclosure in +order to seek for Miss Chandos, and receive her congratulations.</p> + +<p>"Ah, here you are!" he exclaimed, when they met; "I have been hunting +for you everywhere. Did you see the race well?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—you won," she said, "I am so glad."</p> + +<p>"It was a near thing, but Todd is a clever boy, and just pulled it +off. Rajahpore seems to bring me good fortune. I shall make it my head +quarters. When will you be so kind as to introduce me to your people?"</p> + +<p>The words were hardly out of his mouth before he was surrounded by a +crowd of half-castes—they actually pushed and jostled one another in +order to get close to him, and an excited, over-dressed, elderly woman +began:</p> + +<p>"Verona, won't you introduce me to your friend?"</p> + +<p>Although Verona had known that this terrible moment must surely arise, +she grew white to the very lips as she caught the glimmer of horrified +amazement dawning in Captain Haig's blue eyes. Well, she was about to +test his friendship! Would it stand the strain?</p> + +<p>"Captain Haig," she said, and her manner was outwardly composed, "this +is my mother, Mrs. Chandos."</p> + +<p>"O-ah, how do you do?" she said, effusively. "A friend of Verona's, +I see. Oh, we are always awfully pleased to know her friends. Let me +present you to——" here she waved a soiled white-gloved hand:</p> + +<p>"My dater Dominga." Dominga accorded him a smile—and one of her looks!</p> + +<p>"And my dater Bellamina." Bellamina merely giggled hysterically.</p> + +<p>"My married dater Mrs. Montagu Jones, and Mr. Montagu Jones—my son +Nicholas."</p> + +<p>One after the other the family bowed themselves, and shook hands with +him with every evidence of the most cordial satisfaction.</p> + +<p>At first his stupefaction was so complete, that Captain Haig was unable +to utter one single word.</p> + +<p>The beautiful Miss Chandos! the fairy Princess! Oh, she must be under +some spell of enchantment! This wizened little black monkey-faced woman +her mother! These awful half-castes, her sisters! Was he awake or +asleep?</p> + +<p>Salwey and Mrs. Lepell, who were standing close by, understood the +scene, and pitied Verona Chandos from the bottom of their hearts.</p> + +<p>How brave and dignified she was! How high she held her head! One might +have supposed that her mother was a duchess.</p> + +<p>"I am awfullee glad your pony won," said Nicky, in his Chee-chee +accent. "O-ah, my! he ees a good pony!"</p> + +<p>His civil congratulation broke the ice, and Captain Haig recovered +sufficiently to say:</p> + +<p>"Thank you; had you any money on?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no-ah! oh, my, no-ah," protested Mrs. Chandos. "Poor boy, he does +not bet. Are you staying here?" she continued. "No?"</p> + +<p>"Just for the races," he stammered.</p> + +<p>"Oh, then you must come out and dine with us, and just take us as we +arre. We live at Manora. Now you must not make <i>any</i> excuse"—here +she put her head on one side and nodded in a manner intended to be +fascinating—and which, once upon a time, had produced a gratifying +result!</p> + +<p>"I am engaged to-night, thank you," he answered stiffly.</p> + +<p>"Arl right, then, to-morrow. Come to tiffin to-morrow—you see I will +not let you off."</p> + +<p>"But there are races again to-morrow, you know."</p> + +<p>"My! my! so there arre. Well, the day after tomorrow is Sunday—and +there are no races; and if you do not come to tiffin, I am sure +Verona"—here she glanced at the rigid face on her left—"will be +awfully offended. You come—and bring a friend."</p> + +<p>"Then, thank you, I will come on Sunday. There is the saddling bell, I +really must go!" and in another moment Captain Haig had effected his +escape.</p> + +<p>When next he caught sight of Salwey, he went straight up to him and +began:</p> + +<p>"Good God! I never got such a shock in my life! You are an old friend, +and I think you might have prepared me; I have just had a three-finger +peg of whisky and soda, and even with that I feel completely knocked +out of time. To think of that girl being a half-caste! It seems +impossible! What awful people! Why, her mother is as dark as an ayah! +Who are they?"</p> + +<p>"Her father is in the sugar works at Manora—he was in the cavalry, +and——"</p> + +<p>"See it all," interrupted Haig; "got into a scrape, married a +half-caste—fired out of the Service—social collapse."</p> + +<p>"I presume you are not <i>now</i> contemplating taking a month's leave at +Rajahpore," remarked Salwey, with dry significance. "Seen the family?"</p> + +<p>"Don't rub it in, Salwey, you savage! You cannot understand what a +fearful blow I've just had." He really looked as white and shaken as if +he had recently had a fall.</p> + +<p>"You don't want to meet Miss Verona again?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish to God I'd never seen her at all!" he groaned.</p> + +<p>"She is handsome, not to speak of being a good girl—and a lady. I'm +sorry I cannot say the same for her sister Dominga. I sincerely pity +Miss Verona—the shock you are struggling under is nothing to the shock +she received when she came out—and beheld her parents."</p> + +<p>"Then, she never knew!"</p> + +<p>"Never—if she <i>had</i> known, do you suppose she would have left England? +Cheer up, old man! you'll get over it—we all do."</p> + +<p>"Bosh! you've never had anything to get over—but the measles. I'll +never get over this as long as I live. She tells me that Madame de +Godez left her nothing at all."</p> + +<p>"No, her face is her fortune—her family are her misfortune," rejoined +Salwey, and here he was imperatively claimed by another acquaintance.</p> + +<p>As far as the Chandos family were concerned, the Rajahpore races had +proved a brilliant success. Pussy had been supremely happy, for +Alonzo was present, and they had enjoyed a good deal of chattering and +giggling together (as well as a large packet of conversation lozenges), +and thrice had sallied out arm in arm to the tent, to partake of such +refreshments as lemonade and cake.</p> + +<p>Dominga had attracted a certain amount of flattering attention and won +several bets. Her mother's eyes had followed her with triumph, as in a +long green dress and carrying a white parasol she trailed up and down +the paddock, in company with Mr. Young and Major Gale, D.S.O.; but she +lost sight of her darling during the hour when she sat behind a screen +in the refreshment tent—whispering with Jimmy Fielder.</p> + +<p>Dominga and Jimmy were more than the mere acquaintance they appeared to +be.</p> + +<p>The Station had listened to their occasional chaffing and sparring, +had seen them playing tennis, but never supposed—or suspected—that +the Honourable Jimmy cast a second thought to the diverting and +dashing Dominga. Poor little Baby Charles was her slave; but as +soon as the regiment moved he would cast off her shackles, and no +harm would be done! Deluded Station! Baby Charles was merely the +stalking-horse—behind this harmless and acknowledged "friendship" +Dominga and her new admirer screened a real love affair. In public +they rarely addressed one another, but they made ample amends for this +abstinence on other occasions. Oh, worthy Mrs. Grundy was being cruelly +deceived!</p> + +<p>The first day's racing came to an end. A great deal of money was lost +and won; a great many hopes had been raised and shattered. Brian +Salwey's Baber, splendidly ridden by himself, won the welter race, +but in the supreme event of the day—"the cup,"—the favourite was +hopelessly beaten—alas! the celebrated V.C. was not even placed.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Kind-hearted Mrs. Lepell had compassion on the original "V.C." and +drove her home with her in the victoria (in order to save her from +her relatives), and Brian Salwey occupied the front seat. They were +a somewhat silent trio, but as they passed the Chandos family in the +wagonette, their chattering resembled nothing so much as a party of +excited jackdaws!</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The next day Verona did not attend the meeting; Pussy was chaperoned by +her sister Blanche, and Dominga was the triumphant companion of Mrs. +Barwell. Mrs. Chandos was far too much occupied with preparations for +Sunday's tiffin to spare time for any relaxation. The entertainment +was to be on a sumptuous scale; she went into the bazaar herself, and +bought candied fruit, <i>pâté de fois gras</i>, and a fine Europe ham! (in +spite of her chaffering, the latter was an expensive item); it was all +to find favour in the eyes of Verona's lover; but if he would only +marry the girl, and take her off her hands, the Europe ham would be a +well invested outlay.</p> + +<p>Whilst Mrs. Chandos was bargaining in the bazaar, Verona was sitting +with her grandmother in the garden, reading—as the old lady's eager, +but unaccustomed fingers manufactured a woollen necktie. It was the +hour of sunset; birds were squabbling for the best branches—an +artesian well was sending up its final creak—a native was droning as +he shuffled down the road—the smell of wood smoke was in the air. +Mrs. Lopez, who had been buried in thought, now suddenly put down her +knitting and said:</p> + +<p>"Well, so you have been here nearly six months, Verona! and you have +wrought changes. Pussy is improved, so is Nicky; Dom copies the way you +speak, and move; and your father, too, he is different; but you must +not make him too content. No, no, no!"</p> + +<p>"But why not, Nani?" she inquired, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Because, though your talk is to him as water to a parched-up plant, +yet I must give you a word of warning. Your mother is a leetle, leetle +jealous; she cannot help it, poor girl! but these talks, and readings, +and games are not to her taste. No, no! sometimes when you are sitting +with your father, she is walking up and down the verandah—oh, quite +mad! I have seen her face! No, no, it is not good to look at. So, my +dear child, once a week for these readings—will be plenty—no more."</p> + +<p>"Well, Nani, you know best," agreed Verona, with a sigh. "Come, +Johnny!" Johnny, the squirrel, who was playing among the trellis work +with some young friends, gave a whisk to his tail, and darted down to +his owner, ran up her extended arm and nestled to her cheek. When the +poor girl's heart ached very badly, Johnny's soft caresses and adoring +friendship seemed somehow to deaden the pain. Johnny was now a pretty +little fellow, though smaller than his cousins, who flocked round the +verandah. He associated with them—and he wished them to associate with +Verona. On many an occasion she had entered her room, and found a dozen +squirrels on her dressing-table! (Johnny's home was in a drawer, an +old ramshackle drawer, which had a hole at the back; here he crept in +and slept comfortably among her gloves and handkerchiefs—his nest was +in a red silk necktie.) He frequently entertained company before the +mirror, and no doubt his relations were delighted with his residence, +but the instant his lady appeared, they scampered out. Once Johnny had +been absent for a whole day, but honourably returned at nightfall, and +when Verona heard him pattering in, she felt a thankfulness out of all +proportion to the occasion. She loved Johnny, and could not bear to +lose him. As she stroked his fur now, there was a long silence—she was +thinking of Malcolm Haig's face as she had last seen it. She was firmly +persuaded that she would never look upon it again. She had been mad to +harbour hopes of release.</p> + +<p>"See—see, Verona," said her grandmother, "I have dropped two—three +stitches. Child, has it seemed to you that there is a change in +Dominga?"</p> + +<p>"No, Nani."</p> + +<p>"Well, she has got a lover, or else I am an old fool."</p> + +<p>"What makes you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Many little things. She is quiet, she no longer squabbles—her +thoughts are enough—they are pleasant. She dresses herself for +hours—she writes much—she sees us no more, she is in another world +with her secret. Oh, it is a big one—can you guess?"</p> + +<p>"No; as far as I have seen, Dominga has many admirers, and one—who +is more—little Mr. Young—but she does not care for him. Dominga is +always reserved and mysterious—she likes having secrets."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she is wise! You know the proverb: 'Never make known one's +wealth, one's remedies, one's lover, where one has hidden money, the +good works one does, the insults one has received, or the debts one has +contracted.'"</p> + +<p>"Dominga makes known her debts, Nani—she owes two hundred rupees in +the bazaar, and is at her wits' end."</p> + +<p>"Chitt! she will coax her mother, and she will pay," rejoined Mrs. +Lopez, with an air of easy confidence; "and here is Rosa coming back. +My, my, what parcels! Oh, she has been spending a lot of money!" +adding, with a laugh, "she will be <i>so</i> cross!"</p> + +<p>The preparation for the tiffin party was on a sumptuous scale; there +was a brand new white cloth—flowers—and dessert. The family wore +their very best garments; even Mr. Chandos had put on a suit of old +blue serge, in order to do honour to Verona's friend. Verona herself, +with two great red spots on her cheeks, inwardly prayed that her +expected guest would not come—and her prayer was answered.</p> + +<p>Half-past one—no Captain Haig—a quarter to two—Nicky ran to the +corner of the tennis ground; the Trotter family were all in their +verandah—for it had not been concealed from them that Mrs. Chandos +expected two officers to tiffin.</p> + +<p>Two o'clock, yet still tarried the wheels of Captain Haig's chariot. A +gloomy silence now descended and settled upon the Chandos family like a +pall.</p> + +<p>Half-past two! a gurrah at the factory struck "three."</p> + +<p>"No-ah, he is not coming," announced Dominga, with a conviction +that tolled the knell of her mother's hopes. Nicky and Dominga were +clamouring for food, and a certain portion of the long-delayed meal +was hastily served. But Mrs. Chandos was too excited to eat; her mind +was dwelling on the triumph of the Trotters, and her costly useless +outlay—unfortunately, she could not return the ham, for it had been +boiled. Her temper, which had been gradually rising like a storm at +sea, now burst, and dashed itself like a tornado upon Verona. It was +not the recreant Captain Haig with whom Mrs. Chandos was furious; his +unlucky friend represented the scapegoat.</p> + +<p>Verona sat white and speechless, whilst her mother overwhelmed her +with a torrent of reproaches for her airs, her uselessness, the heavy +cost of her maintenance, and her most devilish pride. But when once a +Eurasian loses her temper and her self-control, she hardly knows what +she says. The tempest like a typhoon is soon over,—but while it lasts, +it is bad, very bad.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chandos finally concluded with one of her celebrated screaming +fits, and Mrs. Lopez—well accustomed to these hysterical +outbursts—led her away sobbing and exhausted, in order to console and +soothe her in her own apartment.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The band had played the men back to barracks to the rousing tune of +"When Johnny comes marching Home again"; it was eleven o'clock on +Sunday morning, and Captain Haig, who had been to Parade Service, +walked across the maidan to pay a morning call. His thoughts were +still full of one subject—Verona Chandos, and he was anxiously +debating whether to go to Manora or not? The question had kept him +awake for hours; it had harassed him through the Book of Common Prayer, +and the text of the padre's sermon had been, "To go to Manora or not?" +Something in Verona's eyes magnetised him and drew him towards her, to +be instantly driven away by her swarm of terrible relations, and they +really were her own kindred; he had heard all about them at the mess. +Malcolm Haig was on his way to see his cousin (once removed), Jimmy +Fielder, and to have a friendly "bukh" with him in his own diggings. He +knew all about Master Jimmy's affairs, and why he was now languishing +on the plains of India. Lord Highstreet, who was a cast-iron parent of +the so-called old school, had cut off the supplies, and sent his heir +into banishment—sent him to the East in order to be out of harm's +way, for, by all accounts, there were no widows in India. The native +women were very properly burnt, and the Europeans were of the innocuous +species, termed "grass," and not matrimonially dangerous. Captain +Fielder was sprawling on a Bombay chair in the verandah, still clad in +a smart blue silk sleeping suit and a pair of straw bath-slippers, and +was engaged in reading a French novel, and smoking a Russian cigarette.</p> + +<p>"Hullo!" he exclaimed, half rising, as he descried his cousin.</p> + +<p>"Hullo!" repeated the visitor, "so this is what you call going to +church!"</p> + +<p>"There's a chair—here's a box of cigarettes. I never go to +church—within four walls. I believe in parson green fields."</p> + +<p>"So I see," assented Malcolm, as he seated himself and glanced +significantly at the yellow book.</p> + +<p>"You have been, of course—hence this air of virtue. Needs must when C. +O. drives; your tent is pitched in the old man's compound, and you were +under the paternal eye."</p> + +<p>"Bosh!" blowing a cloud.</p> + +<p>"Many in church?"</p> + +<p>"Crowds—rather good singing."</p> + +<p>"Ah! then—Dom Chandos was there."</p> + +<p>"If you mean a tall, pale girl, with a soprano that nearly lifted the +roof—she was——"</p> + +<p>"Isn't it a marvellous voice? It's an awful shame she is lost out +here——"</p> + +<p>"Lost? She seems to know her way about fairly well——"</p> + +<p>"I mean—her voice. If that girl had a chance at home at the Gaiety—or +the halls—she'd become the craze; and she can dance a bit, too——"</p> + +<p>"I knew the other Miss Chandos at home," said Captain +Haig—slowly—knocking the ash off his cigarette in a preoccupied +fashion. "She was the beauty of Homburg."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, I don't admire her one little bit. A beauty at home is not +a beauty here, and <i>vice versâ</i>; I grant you she has a fine pair of +unhappy, dark eyes, but give me her sister. I like a girl with a spice +of the devil——"</p> + +<p>"Cannot say that I do! How are you getting along, Jimmy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, all right. The pater thought he was sending me to penal +servitude, but it's rather jolly. They are not a bad lot—these +Muffineers—awfully sporting, but it's a rotten regiment. However, the +duty is easy."</p> + +<p>"How do you kill time?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, there's polo, and squash rackets, some fair shooting—duck and +snipe, partridge; quite a lot of small game——"</p> + +<p>"And no other game?—eh, Jimmy? Sport was never in your line. +Piccadilly, Hurlingham, the theatres and halls, used to be your orbit."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I put in my days all right, though the climate undermines my moral +character, and I eat enormously, and sleep many hours. When the hot +weather comes, I'll trek for the hills!"</p> + +<p>"Ah—I hope you won't get into mischief there. Had your father +consulted <i>me</i>, I should have told him he was turning you out of the +frying-pan into the fire!"</p> + +<p>"Bah! the pater is only terrified that I should marry, that's all. No +one marries in India—we carry on——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, do you? And—what about Mrs. de Lacy? Have you dropped her?"</p> + +<p>"I wish to goodness she'd drop <i>me</i>, Malcolm!" declaiming with uplifted +hand and cigarette. "The pater was right there, though I'm the last man +to tell him so! Nita is awfully up-to-date—plays bridge like a book, +smokes like a chimney, has a ripping good figure—but twelve years, you +know—I say, come, it's a good bit of a start, eh?"</p> + +<p>"On the wrong side—yes. Uncle Horace wrote me a raving letter—he has +a tremendous idea of what he calls 'A suitable alliance.' I fancy I see +him and your father together at the club, wagging their heads over your +'case.' I bet your Uncle Horace prescribed India——"</p> + +<p>"He has never been out, eh?" and Jimmy grinned significantly from +ear to ear. "Well, I can't say I bear the old boy a grudge. I'm glad +I came. Every one does India now; the Taj is as familiar as Charing +Cross. I've been here four months—and the days have just slid along. +I've had a blazing good time!"</p> + +<p>"Ahem! Then—James—I'm much afraid you're at your old games. And +yet—there are not many women of your style in the station——"</p> + +<p>"That's true, oh, observant sage! Find the lady? By the way"—giving +the conversation a sudden twist, "what are you doing to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I don't quite know. Mrs. Chandos—asked me to tiffin——"</p> + +<p>"What infernal cheek!" half sitting up; "you are not going to be such +an ass as to give yourself away like that. If you do, she will nail +you. Who enters there, leaves hope behind."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean——?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you know—and you know too, that it's no good hankering after +that girl—not a little bit. I grant you she is handsome and ladylike, +but—keep her relations well in your mind's eyes. Think of the future +cousins in the bazaars."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you be hanged! Of course you have never been near the place?"</p> + +<p>"I should say not! The Chandos bungalow is out of bounds; Chandos +himself is a shady old chap, who shows his sense by never leaving +cards on a mess, and never enters the station. His 'Mem Sahib' is all +over the shop, flitting in and out of the club, and hanging on to the +coat-tails of society. Of course we meet her at times in the reading +room, and to speak to. She has a whole clan of brown relations in the +city, called Jones. The man only wants a turban to be a khidmutgar!"</p> + +<p>"Then you don't know them at all?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; I know Dom—she is different; she is not off the cab rank, +and is rare good fun, and says the most amusing and unexpected things. +We are tremendous pals, though I need scarcely remark that we don't +publish the fact on the club notice board, or in the market place."</p> + +<p>"Um—no; but where else——?"</p> + +<p>"We write one another nice little notes. Our post office is a book +in the library—last volume on fourth shelf. It is called 'Two +Kisses'—rather neat, eh—quite my own idea——"</p> + +<p>"Do you merely correspond?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," responded Jimmy, with an airy flip of his cigarette, "on +moonlight nights I drive out to Manora after mess; I have a rare +stepper, and the cart has rubber tyres. I wait behind a little tope of +trees for Dom, and we go for a couple of hours' spin. It's all as still +as death and as bright as day; we have the whole country to ourselves. +I'm not a fellow for humbugging about scenery, and the picturesque, +but I tell you, Malcolm, that there's something in the quiet, still, +spreading plains—with a silver shine on them, and the river here +and there—flashing at one like a looking glass—that makes me feel +quite—er—er—enthusiastic—and impressed, and all that sort of +thing!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! and I should like to know how Mr. Chandos would be impressed and +all that sort of thing, if he met you and his daughter scouring the +country in the middle of the night?"</p> + +<p>"Bless your heart, there's not a soul in the secret but my syce. We +always get home all right, and Dom creeps in as easily as a roof cat."</p> + +<p>"If you will take my advice, Master Jimmy, you won't go <i>too</i> far."</p> + +<p>"Ten to fifteen miles is our limit——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, shut up! You know what I mean; that girl, by the look of her, has +the real tropical temperament. If you play any of your tricks you will +find yourself in the wrong box! Unless I'm mistaken, Nature has given +her teeth and claws, and the power to use them. Mind you, it's not for +nothing she's called the Red Cat—and I never trust any one with that +particular shade of red hair——"</p> + +<p>"Red hair! Come, I like that! And what about your own crop of carrots, +my boy? I admire Dom's hair; it is splendid—the true Venetian colour, +whilst you are on the ginger shade——"</p> + +<p>"Carrots and ginger! What mixed metaphors!"</p> + +<p>"No! vegetables both! I grant you that Dom is not an everyday girl; she +is quick and all alive, O! and she never bores, but keeps your wits on +the stretch all the time. She is not a bit like any woman I have ever +met before, and that is what appeals to me. She is awfully plucky, too. +One night we drove over a buffalo, and were pitched out on the road, +and, I give you my word, she simply shrieked with laughter."</p> + +<p>"Pray, what is going to be the end of this?" inquired his cousin in a +cool, judicial tone.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know——"</p> + +<p>"Still in the early chapters of the romance, eh——?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; when it begins to get a bit—er—dull, and we are bored—we will +say ta-ta; that's all!"</p> + +<p>"All?" ejaculated his visitor.</p> + +<p>"Well—I say, hang it, Malcolm! A fellow must have some amusement!"</p> + +<p>"Play to you, and death to her—reputation."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dom will take good right care of that—I tell you——"</p> + +<p>"And I tell you that if you play fast and loose with Dom she is just +the sort of girl that would—kill you!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord! here we have a five-act tragedy in two lines! A tragedy +generally makes me howl with laughter. Well, now I must go in, and +shave and dress. I say, if you like, I'll drive you round by Manora +this afternoon. It's a pretty sort of settlement—lots of trees and +greenery—on the river side. We won't stop, but I will point you out +the roof which shelters the Misses Chandos—your lady love, and mine!"</p> + +<p>And tossing the end of his cigarette into a bush, he called for his +boy, and disappeared indoors.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX</h2> +</div> + + +<p>That same Sunday afternoon Mrs. Chandos, having recovered from her +"seizure" went out into the front garden in order to "eat the air" in +solitude. The Trotters were also abroad, but she turned her back upon +them, and walked down the little drive and gazed along the road with +an expression of grim resentment. But what was this which she beheld +speeding towards her? A grey stepping horse, a dog-cart, and two +gentlemen—and at what a pace they came! Indeed, they were all but past +before the driver discovered her, and pulled the grey on his haunches.</p> + +<p>"Oh, good day, Mrs. Chandos," said Captain Haig; "I am so awfully sorry +I was not able to come to tiffin. I was—prevented," here Jimmy gave +him an approving nudge, "from accepting your kind invitation."</p> + +<p>"Aye, and so you have come to tea instead. All right, come in—come +in——"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid we cannot wait, thank you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my! but why not? The girls are at home," and she put her hand on +the wheel of the cart as if she would detain them by physical force.</p> + +<p>Captain Haig merely shook his head.</p> + +<p>"And poor Verona will be <i>so</i> disappointed," urged the persistent +matron.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, Mrs. Chandos," interposed Jimmy, leaning across, "but I +must really take him away. We have an important engagement."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but here is Dominga!" cried her mother in a tone of triumph, as +Dom, in a French muslin costume, came flitting to the gate.</p> + +<p>"You know my daughter, Dominga, Captain Haig?"</p> + +<p>Dominga immediately took her mother's place, and began to converse with +Jimmy, whilst Mrs. Chandos stood aside and contemplated the scene with +a bursting heart. She had hoped for a mere captain, but here was "the +Honourable" talking away to Dom as if he had known her all his life! +And the Trotters were staring over the wall, like so many stuck pigs.</p> + +<p>In another moment the grey horse had sprung forward, and the ecstatic +vision was swept from her contemplation. Still there yet remained +the Trotters! She turned herself about, looked at them with rude +significance, and nodded with imperial condescension. Who would +suppose, from her manner, that her neighbour was a close, intimate +friend of many years' standing, and had once nursed her like a sister, +when she and Nani were both down with jaundice?</p> + +<p>No, no; she had forgotten all that. Those common Trotter people must be +taught their place, and with this determination Mrs. Chandos proceeded +indoors.</p> + +<p>On Sunday evening the chaplain from Rajahpore held service in the +little conventicle at Manora; his congregation consisted of the sugar +people and a few native Christians. On this particular day Pussy and +Nicky were the sole representatives of the Chandos household. As Mrs. +Lepell and her nephew were walking homewards they overtook the pair.</p> + +<p>"Pray what has become of Verona this evening?" inquired the lady.</p> + +<p>"She has such a bad headache!"</p> + +<p>"That is unusual. What has given it to her?"</p> + +<p>"Crying, I think," replied the ever indiscreet Pussy. "She cried a lot +this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"I hope she has not had bad news?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no—ah! but mother asked a friend of hers to lunch—that Captain +Haig—and he never came," announced Pussy, regardless of her brother's +angry nip. "And mother was so vexed."</p> + +<p>"Poor Verona!" said Mrs. Lepell to herself, as they came to the gate of +the Chandos abode.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Pussy, will you run in and ask your mother if you and +Verona may come over to dinner? It will cheer up your sister. Don't be +long, like a good girl."</p> + +<p>As they waited, she turned to her nephew and said: "Poor girl, I +suppose he could not face them! Brian, what makes you look so solemn?"</p> + +<p>"My sins and the sermon," he answered with a short laugh. "By the way, +Aunt Liz, I'm on the track of those jewels; I believe I've got a clue, +but mum's the word."</p> + +<p>At this moment they were joined by Pussy, who panted out, "Thanks +awfully, Mrs. Lepell; we may both come."</p> + +<p>At dinner that evening Verona was unusually white and silent. "So," +said Salwey to himself, "she has been crying for that fellow. Little +she knows how Pussy let her namesake out of the bag."</p> + +<p>The chief part of the conversation was sustained by Mr. Lepell and +Pussy, who, though a little daunted by the entrées and coloured wine +glasses, was much elated to find herself dining in the big house. Her +host noted how she was improved; she had ceased to giggle at the end +of every sentence, and was really quite a pretty girl, with her liquid +dark eyes, beautiful teeth and radiant smile.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lepell was astonished when he realized that this sparkling, +happy-looking guest was only little Pussy Chandos! They were discussing +dreams, and during a lull in the talk her thin staccato tones were +heard saying: "Oh, I do dream such strange dreams! They seem so real! +Two or three times I dream of Dominga—always the same; she walks +through my room in her hat with a wrap on her arm—just as if she was +there. Last week I dreamt of her, and I called out, and she put her +finger on her lips and was gone. Now, what can it mean, do you think?"</p> + +<p>One of the khidmutgars in waiting caught the eye of his mate. <i>They</i> +knew, but this by-play was lost on the company—with one exception.</p> + +<p>"Did you tell your sister of these visions?" inquired Salwey.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; and she said it was only nightmare. I think I had been having +too much curried fish—I'm awfully fond of curry; when I see curry I +must eat it."</p> + +<p>"Now, Brian," said his aunt, "you have scarcely opened your lips—do +amuse us! What are you looking so glum about? If you are thinking of +the usurers, I will allow you to take a short canter on your hobby."</p> + +<p>"It's nothing to joke about, Aunt Liz," rejoined Salwey, suddenly +rousing himself. "You know old Hirzat Sing—they have sold him up at +last!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! Poor old fellow—he has been in difficulties for years!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," assented her husband; "he borrowed money for his son's wedding, +and it was his ruin. His son is dead, and he has been getting +deeper and deeper into debt every year. A slave to the soil and the +money-lender—working from dawn to dark to keep himself and his wife +alive—and feed the daughter of the horse-leech."</p> + +<p>"One would suppose he could throw off the yoke, and the strangling +hundred per cent., and go elsewhere," said Mrs. Lepell.</p> + +<p>"He is too old," replied Salwey, "and he would say, 'Kahn +jaga?'—whither shall I go? He clings to his ancestral acres with the +extraordinary love of home, which is a passion in a Hindoo. There is a +saying, 'The rent is heavy, the debts are many, but still he loves his +field.' Now that Hirzat Sing is getting infirm and stiff, and his wife +is blind, he is of no further use to the soucar, who has thrust him +from his home, after making hundreds, aye, thousands of rupees out of +him. The original debt was but two hundred and fifty; now he will end +his days as a bazaar mendicant, after slaving for sixty years."</p> + +<p>"This is very bad, Brian; can you do nothing?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not, Aunt Liz; poor old Hirzat Sing is in the grip of +Saloo—a notable money-lender known only to us by name; I believe he +lives in Poona, but his meshes are all over the district, and he does +his business secretly; he is the most fierce and rapacious of the whole +lot. Once or twice I've thought I had him. I believe from what I hear +that the wretch has no less than five hundred victims on his books—in +his web, I should say."</p> + +<p>"Poor old Hirzat Sing!" said Mrs. Lepell. "I shall look him up +to-morrow. We could get him some job about the place, eh, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear; but already we are fairly well supplied with your +<i>protégés</i>."</p> + +<p>"Don't be horrid, Tom. I have, and so have you, the greatest respect +for Hirzat Sing. He is one of Nature's noblemen."</p> + +<p>"And I have to find him some job—such as weeding or sweeping—at five +rupees a month. Well, I'll do what I can."</p> + +<p>"By the way, Miss Verona," turning to his silent, sad-faced guest, "I +saw in <i>The Times</i> the death of a Chandos of Charne Hall. I believe +he's related to your father? I am not sure—but I think he is his +cousin."</p> + +<p>"Oh my, yes; it must be father's cousin," burst in Pussy. "He never +speaks of him, but mother does; she says he was such—a—thief and a +budmash—he—ought to have been put in jail!"</p> + +<p>"Pussy!" remonstrated her sister.</p> + +<p>"If it is Sidney, it will make a great difference to your father," +continued Mr. Lepell, addressing Verona.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe anything would make any difference to him," then she +dropped her voice as she added the word "now."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! How dull we have all been!" exclaimed Mrs. Lepell. "I really +think we shall have to introduce the Chinese system of having little +slips of paper inscribed with jokes, which they solemnly hand to each +other during intervals in the conversation."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could remember a few," said Salwey; "but they run in at +one ear and out at the other! I wonder if this would do? A certain +schoolboy was asked, 'Who was Titus?' 'Titus,' he promptly replied, +'was a gentleman who wrote a letter in the Bible. Then, as a Roman +general, he sacked Jerusalem. Subsequently, having adopted the name of +Oates, he headed an abominable insurrection.' How is that, Aunt Liz?"</p> + +<p>"Much too historical and stupid," she said as she rose. "I suppose you +wished to drive us off, and therefore we depart. Good-bye!"</p> + +<p>The three ladies were followed into the verandah by coffee and the men, +and Salwey, drawing up a low chair beside Verona, said:</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see this pretty thing before?" As he spoke he dropped a +ring into her lap.</p> + +<p>She picked it up and exclaimed, "I should think so—my long-lost +property! Where did you find it?"</p> + +<p>"Can you swear to it?"</p> + +<p>"I can do more, if necessary. I was in the shop when auntie bought +it—a black pearl, set in brilliants. I wanted all emeralds, but she +insisted. Look here," and she unpinned a plain, gold safety brooch, "do +you see this?"</p> + +<p>In another moment her nimble fingers had unscrewed the cluster in the +ring, and screwed it into the brooch.</p> + +<p>"There!" handing it back, and slipping the ring on her finger. "It +makes three separate articles—a ring, a brooch, and a bangle. Are you +convinced?"</p> + +<p>"I am. May I have the brooch and ring? And I must ask you to swear to +your property before Uncle Tom, who is a magistrate."</p> + +<p>"Very well, though I feel slightly alarmed; it sounds so formal—and as +if I had been breaking the law."</p> + +<p>"Do you know that you have done an immense service, for you have not +only given me a clue to the recovery of your jewels. This," holding up +the safety-pin, "will get a notorious evil-doer two years' hard labour, +with a shorn head, and chains, in Rajahpore jail. Now, I wish you could +put me on the track of Saloo, the money-lender!"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The change in Dominga, which had not escaped the sharp eyes of old +Nani, gradually became visible to her sister. Dom's whole mind was +evidently concentrated on something, or someone—who could that someone +be? She was abstracted, silent and forgetful—at one moment in the +maddest and most unaccountable spirits, at another sunk in the depths +of ferocious gloom. Dominga was in love—and for the first time in her +existence. Ambition and a hungry vanity had impelled her to strain +every effort in order to attract "The Honourable" (as he was called in +Manora), and her aim was accomplished but too easily. On the occasion +of their second meeting he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Lovely Dom! won't you be real good friends with me? <i>won't</i> you like +me—and let us see a great deal of one another?"</p> + +<p>This appeal she had laughed at and "pooh-poohed." Now to see "Jimmy" +was all she lived for. She was indifferent to position; she had no +desire to snatch a coronet—all she cared for was Jimmy himself. If +Jimmy ceased to love her, if he were to leave her, the whole world +would become wrapped in darkness—and she would die.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, none suspected their intimacy. Dom was an accomplished +actress, and full of resource and courage; she concealed an impassioned +love affair behind the cloak of a duly licensed (warranted "harmless") +flirtation with her unhappy dupe, "Baby Charles."</p> + +<p>These two strings to her bow were a severe tax on Dominga. Admirable +performer as she was, she found it difficult to keep both strings in +tune, and to wear an everyday air of smiling self-possession. She +worshipped Jimmy, and with regret, it must be added, that she now +secretly detested Baby Charles. These devastating emotions had their +natural result; she became nervous, thin and restless as the sea +itself; sleep and appetite both left her, and yet Dom retained her +looks—she had a sort of glorified expression; a soft brilliance in her +eyes had replaced their former challenging stare.</p> + +<p>Towards the middle of February the nights were becoming warm. At any +rate, Verona found it difficult to rest; and on more than one occasion +she rose, slipped on her shoes and a long cloak, and set forth to +wander along the old familiar path by the river. The air was cool and +refreshing after a close room (they had not yet begun punkahs), and +one night she was tempted to stroll beyond her usual bounds, towards +a certain lonely spot—the desolate garden of an old bungalow which +had fallen into ruins. This garden was a jungle of trees and creepers; +bamboos, loquats and apricots struggled fiercely for spaces—beautiful +roses, gone mad, threw their shoots in all directions. Here the blue +jay and the golden orioles were undisturbed—it was a wilderness of +flowers and birds, far from the hurry and dust of the outer world. Few +ever passed that way, because the old ruined house had an evil name, +and was reputed to be haunted. Verona had discovered this sanctuary, +and many a half-hour she spent, sitting on the steps of the verandah, +whilst Johnny darted about among the neighbouring branches, and played +on a circular stone platform close by—a "chabootra," where in former +days the family had enjoyed the air and tea—raised a few inches from +undesirable insects, and snakes. To this retreat Verona had now wound +her steps, and as she made her way among the bushes she was aware that +someone else was in the garden—someone who was singing "The Jewel of +Asia." She approached, and thrusting aside the high plumes of the grass +blossoms, beheld a tableau which rooted her to the spot.</p> + +<p>Dominga—on the chabootra—wearing a low evening dress, her hair +crowned by a wreath of passion flowers, was not merely singing, but +dancing! As she sang she held with extended arms her flowing white +skirts, and weaved the most dainty measures. She moved with the true +"bird-like step" and the swaying, undulating grace of her renowned +grandmother, the Nautch girl!</p> + +<p>Naturally Dom was not singing or dancing solely for her own amusement, +or the entertainment of roof cats, owls and night-jars. As she executed +her fairy-like <i>pas seul</i> on the stone platform, the "Honourable," +cigarette in mouth, lounged by the edge of the verandah, and clapped +applause.</p> + +<p>Whilst Verona stood transfixed, this pretty scene fell to pieces, for +Dom, in answer to a gesture from Jimmy, turned, saw her sister, and +uttered a piercing shriek.</p> + +<p>"Hush—sh!" said her companion, rising simultaneously to his feet—and +the occasion. "Quite the time of day to be out—is it not, Miss +Chandos?" sauntering towards her as he spoke. "I wandered over to +Manora, and had the good luck to meet first your sister—and now +yourself!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Verona!" cried Dominga, "what a fright you did give me! I thought +you were the ghost! You know this place is haunted by those Mutiny +people who were killed here."</p> + +<p>"I assure you that I was equally startled," rejoined the other in a +frosty voice.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you came out for a breath of air—same as myself," continued +Dom, with unsurpassed effrontery—and her fairness was dazzling in the +moonlight.</p> + +<p>A breath of air! and she dressed in her best gauze ball gown—white +satin shoes, and all!</p> + +<p>Verona made no answer, and being painfully conscious of the great +deficiencies of her own toilette, without further formality effected a +rapid retreat.</p> + +<p>"I say! I call that most beastly bad luck," exclaimed Jimmy, looking +after the departing figure. "Does she twig anything?"</p> + +<p>"She must—unless she is an idiot."</p> + +<p>"She won't give us away, Dom! You must make that all right, old girl!"</p> + +<p>"If I can."</p> + +<p>"If you cannot, there will be the devil to pay!"</p> + +<p>"What particular devil?" enquired his lady love.</p> + +<p>"Well, your <i>father</i> might kick up a row."</p> + +<p>Dominga laughed with infinite mockery.</p> + +<p>"Or our old man—who is supposed to keep me under lock and key? You +must square it, won't you, darling?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, I will do whatever you like, Jim. I always do."</p> + +<p>And Verona was fully as uncomfortable as the lovers. She crept guiltily +into bed, and once there her heart beat so fast she could not sleep. +So this was Dom's secret—Jimmy Fielder! How well she had kept it! and +yet how reckless to choose an open spot, not far from the house, for +entrancing her lover with song and dance!</p> + +<p>They must have met frequently—this was no unusual occasion. Verona, +unable to sleep or close her eyes, beheld again, with inward vision, +the scene: the background of flowering shrubs, the white floating +figure with waving arms and gliding grace—Jimmy, sitting with his +elbows on his knees, his hat on the back of his head, cigarette in +mouth, gazing and glowering like a masher in a music hall—where no +doubt, for the moment, he believed himself to be!</p> + +<p>And Dominga was her own sister—what should she do? What must she do?</p> + +<p>At this moment a stealthy footfall entered the room—it was Dom come to +answer that question in person.</p> + +<p>"Verona," she whispered, "are you asleep?"</p> + +<p>"No—I wish to goodness I was."</p> + +<p>"You know our secret."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure that I do!"</p> + +<p>"But you see what we are. Jimmy adores me, and I adore him."</p> + +<p>"If so, why does he not come here and adore you in broad daylight?"</p> + +<p>"Because of people's tongues—think of the spite of the Trotters and +Watkins, and Blanche's chum, Mrs. Wandle. Verona, dear," and she fell +on her knees beside the bed, "will you promise to say nothing of what +you saw? Promise, and I will do anything—anything."</p> + +<p>"I will promise, if you will listen to what I have to say first."</p> + +<p>Dominga, with an impatient "Ch-a-ah!" sat suddenly down on the floor.</p> + +<p>"I have seen Captain Fielder's father. He is a curious old man—very +proud, and very hard—and enormously rich."</p> + +<p>"How rich?" asked Dom, raising herself a little.</p> + +<p>"Oh, about forty thousand a year."</p> + +<p>"Rupees?"</p> + +<p>"No, pounds; there are no rupees in England. He has eyes like two bits +of granite, and a long chin; he wears a tall white hat and black stock, +and lifts his feet high off the ground as if they did not fit him. +I've often laughed at his way of walking. He is crazy about pedigree +and position, and Jimmy is his only remaining son. If he makes an +unsatisfactory marriage—for instance, if he were to marry a girl +without position or fortune—it would be his deathblow!"</p> + +<p>"So much the better," said Dominga, springing to her feet.</p> + +<p>"But Dom, do listen. Captain Fielder can never make you his wife—do +give him up."</p> + +<p>"Do you think he will give <i>me</i> up?" she demanded, in a low, grating +voice.</p> + +<p>"Well, promise me at least that you won't meet him at night again. +Promise, Dom, on your word of honour."</p> + +<p>"I promise," she responded, in a passionate whisper; "and now, Verona, +listen! if you are false to me, I will"—she paused for a second, in +order to formulate a threat and deal adequate vengeance. Her ear caught +a rustle on the dressing-table—yes! there was naughty little Johnny, +out of his bed at that time of night, sitting up, and watching the +sisters with his two glittering black eyes.</p> + +<p>"I won't say I'll kill you," resumed Dom, "for you wouldn't care—oh, +I know your mind—but I will kill Johnny, I will burn him—yes, I'll +roast him alive, and <i>that</i> would hurt you!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dom, don't say such hideous things! Of course, you may depend on +me; but you—can I really trust you? Will you swear to me on the Bible?"</p> + +<p>"No; but I'll swear to you on my soul! will that satisfy you?"</p> + +<p>Dominga Chandos set but a nominal value on her soul. What little soul +she had belonged to Jimmy Fielder, and she broke her oath within three +days.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The next event of importance was a grand dinner party given by Mrs. +Lepell, to which she invited Verona alone. Mrs. Chandos was loudly +indignant because Dominga had been overlooked, for she had learnt all +particulars of the festivity from her ayah, who heard it from the +Lepell's khansamah. There were to be no less than twenty-four guests. +These included Colonel and Mrs. Palgrave, Miss Richards, Mr. Young, +the Deputy-Inspector-General of Police, Mr. Salwey, a Sir Rupert and +Lady Maxwell, who were staying at the Dak bungalow, and various other +notabilities; altogether it was to be an unusually smart affair. Poor +Verona, who was not particularly anxious to be present, was compelled +to listen patiently whilst her mother harped from morning till night on +Mrs. Lepell's many delinquencies and Dominga's grievances.</p> + +<p>The evening arrived, and Verona, with Pussy's volunteered assistance, +began to make her toilette. She arranged her hair carefully, and put on +a dress, relic of happier times, a white crêpe de chine; it had come +from the atelier of Laferrière, and was a simple, but exquisite gown. +Pussy was loud in her expressions of admiration.</p> + +<p>"Oh—it is beautiful, beautiful, beautiful! Verona. If you will sit +down before the glass, I will clasp your pearls round your neck, and +then you are ready. Now, what do you think mother did to-day?"</p> + +<p>Verona shook her head in hopeless ignorance. Her mother did so many +things—she resembled a little black ant, and was never idle.</p> + +<p>"You know she is awfully mad that Dominga was not invited, especially +as Mr. Young is going, so she wrote a note over to Mrs. Lepell to ask +her if she could possibly squeeze in Dominga anywhere? The answer came +back in two minutes to say that Mrs. Lepell was extremely sorry, but +the number of her guests was quite complete."</p> + +<p>Verona, listening to this little tale, blushed for her mother to the +roots of her hair. At this moment the door of the verandah was burst +open, and Mrs. Chandos herself appeared; she looked both angry and +excited.</p> + +<p>"My! whatt ages you have been," she declared, as she surveyed Verona's +toilette with glittering, malevolent eyes.</p> + +<p>"I was helping Nicky with his sums, and I forgot the time. I am afraid +I am a little late."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you will be <i>very</i> late," cried Mrs. Chandos, with a +queer, hysterical laugh, and she suddenly swept a pail of water from +behind her dress, and deluged her unfortunate daughter from head to +foot. At first the shock was such that Verona could do nothing but +gasp, and gasp; then, to the amazement of the spectators, she burst out +laughing.</p> + +<p>What an object she was! the water streaming down her hair and nose, +and a pool in her lap, her gown a mere soaked rag. Verona's laugh was +an inspiration! If for days she had been preparing an effective retort +to her mother's malicious action, she could not have hit the mark more +cleverly. Mrs. Chandos stood disarmed, astounded, humiliated.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I shall now be very late indeed," said Verona as she rose, +dripping from head to foot, and looked at her parent with extraordinary +composure, "so late that it will not be worth my while to go at all. If +you will all kindly retire, I should like to change my wet clothes."</p> + +<p>Without a single word Mrs. Chandos slunk out, bucket in hand, but Pussy +lingered to profess her sympathy and dismay.</p> + +<p>"Now, what can you say? Oh, you must send an excuse?" she enquired, +with an awestruck face.</p> + +<p>"You can say I have had a severe wetting," rejoined Verona. In her +heart of hearts she was not sorry to be compelled to remain at +home. These local gatherings had nothing to offer her but pain and +humiliation.</p> + +<p>"A severe wetting!" cried Pussy, "they will not believe it. There has +been no rain for weeks!"</p> + +<p>"I cannot help that," retorted her sister, "but if you want to make it +appear plausible, you may add that I have gone to bed."</p> + +<p>Pussy sat down and scrawled off the following note:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"Dear Mrs. Lepell,—</p> + +<p>"<i>Please</i> excuse Verona. She has had a <i>bad</i> wetting, and is gone to +<i>bed</i>.</p> + +<p>"Believe me,</p> + +<p class="ph2">"Yours sincerely,<br> +"<span class="smcap">Bellamina Chandos</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>The true state of the case was not long in finding its way to Mrs. +Lepell's ears. She could not help laughing at the incident as she +related it to her nephew, but she felt more sorry than ever for Verona +Chandos.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was eleven o'clock at night. The bungalow was silent, the lights +were extinguished everywhere except in the office, and here we behold +Mrs. Chandos and Abdul Buk face to face across a table, exceedingly +grave and busy. In front of each was a large ledger, and as Mrs. +Chandos read out figures and totals Abdul Buk said "Jehan, jehan," and +ticked off the duplicate in pencil; occasionally Mrs. Chandos would +point out discrepancies and losses, and a certain amount of argument +and wrangling would ensue.</p> + +<p>"There is that widow in the Gorra bazaar; she owes me a hundred rupees."</p> + +<p>"With interest," amended Abdul.</p> + +<p>"She has only had twenty-five in her hand."</p> + +<p>(By which it will be seen that Mrs. Chandos, like Ralph Nickleby, +expected to get two pence for every half-penny.)</p> + +<p>"She worked very hard, and borrowed the money to pay for her husband's +funeral."</p> + +<p>"It was my money, though, and I will have it back, and the interest. +<i>You</i> know what to do," said this daughter of the horse-leech. "Then +there is that girl who drowned herself in the well; I shall never get +an anna from her now, and she is down in my books for two hundred +rupees."</p> + +<p>"You lost nothing by <i>her</i>—she had paid the principal over and over."</p> + +<p>"My losses have been heavy this last six months. Again, there is that +man who took poison."</p> + +<p>"What you call losses are trade risks, and but nothing when you take +into consideration your enormous gains. No one does such business as +Saloo"—he gave a sort of grunting laugh. "I paid a big sum into the +Bank of Bengal in the name of your mother, as usual. Oh—ho! What a +good thing it is that she leaves business to you, and thinks she has +only a few hundred rupees. Bee Bee Chandos, you are a very rich woman." +Here he pulled up a large bag, made of knotted twine, and poured on the +table a quantity of rupees and notes. These his companion proceeded to +count with eager, greedy fingers (and a celerity that was positively +astonishing and indicated long habit), arranging them in piles of fifty.</p> + +<p>"Four thousand, seven hundred," she said at last. "I don't know what +you call rich; I have been twenty years in the business; I have worked +hard, and I pay you and your agents well."</p> + +<p>"It is a difficult, risky business," protested Abdul Buk. "I go in +fear of my life of that Salwey; if I am found out, it is ruin to me; +my character will be gone. If it was supposed that I was the agent of +the greatly-feared Saloo, surely the very beggars would spit upon me—I +would not have a friend in the world."</p> + +<p>"Money is a good friend," said Mrs. Chandos sententiously.</p> + +<p>"Ay," assented Abdul Buk, "and you must have laks by now."</p> + +<p>He paused and looked at her reflectively; then he said:</p> + +<p>"Why do you not spend it instead of hoarding? Why not enjoy the money +before"—he paused, then he added—"you are found out."</p> + +<p>"Cha-a-h! I will never be found out!" she answered shrilly. "I love +handling money; it is in my blood. I get it from Lopez, my father. He +left me no fortune, with all his once great riches."</p> + +<p>"Of a truth his riches did <i>him</i> no good; he died a ruined man."</p> + +<p>"But he left me a legacy," rejoined Mrs. Chandos; "his books, his +accounts, the names of his clients and his methods. I found them all +in an old box, when my mother came to live with me. They have been of +value."</p> + +<p>"Take my advice and wind up now," urged Abdul Buk. "I feel a +presentiment of evil. Lo! I see a little cloud, like a man's hand, as +it says in your book which I have read. I fear Salwey—some day he will +discover all; he is working, working, working. You will have your veil +torn off, and be known through the province as the accursed Saloo, +whilst I may be cast into prison. Anyway, I lose my honour."</p> + +<p>"Abdul Buk, you are a coward; you ought to be the old woman, I, the +man."</p> + +<p>"So you say," he exclaimed with sullen scorn.</p> + +<p>"What of Hirzat Sing?"</p> + +<p>"He wails and weeps and prays to be suffered to die in his ancestral +home."</p> + +<p>"He is a tiresome old fool and can no longer till the ground to good +profit. All I made last year on that acre and a half of cane was one +hundred rupees—he must go."</p> + +<p>"It will kill him!"</p> + +<p>"Even so!" was the callous reply; "it were time he were dead! And now +what of the money belonging to my daughter, Verona? Have you put it out +to a good charge?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; four thousand rupees," he replied, "to build an oil mill; +twenty-five per cent. They cannot pay, so the interest will be +compound."</p> + +<p>"And the jewels, Abdul. Are there no tidings?"</p> + +<p>"No, though Salwey seeks them everywhere."</p> + +<p>"True; he wanted to search here, but I said no. He might have found +other matters. Yet it is past belief that there is no trace of them. +What sayest thou, Abdul?"</p> + +<p>Abdul nodded his head three times, but made no other reply.</p> + +<p>"I put them in the bag myself. It was not locked, but I locked the +press, and the door of the dufta, and some one came in and broke the +press at the back and took the necklace, the watch, a gold bangle and +rings. Think of it!"</p> + +<p>"Truly this district has an evil name for thieves and budmashes. The +robber has carried the jewels to the city, and they are doubtless ere +now broken up and sent to Delhi."</p> + +<p>"You think, Abdul, there is no chance of ever getting them back or of +finding the things?" enquired his employer as she settled her elbows on +the table and stared at him fixedly.</p> + +<p>"None; truly 'tis but a loss of time!"</p> + +<p>"How lucky that I kept out the beautiful diamond and emerald pendant. +It is worth all the rest. Such stones!"</p> + +<p>Abdul sat more erect, and his eyes now assumed a look of keen interest, +hitherto somewhat lacking in their expression, as he ejaculated a +sonorous "Ah-h!"</p> + +<p>"I admired the ornament so much, Verona made me take it. I have no +jewels, and I have hidden it safely."</p> + +<p>"Hidden it—and where?" he asked.</p> + +<p>As he put the question Abdul's great turbaned head lay half resting on +his shoulder; his countenance was childlike and bland.</p> + +<p>"Nay, nay," she answered with a laugh, "I cannot tell you that; the +very walls have ears."</p> + +<p>"It is not then in the dufta?"</p> + +<p>"Am I a fool?" she demanded, with pardonable indignation.</p> + +<p>"Nay; thou art a marvel of wisdom."</p> + +<p>"I think I shall sell the jewel some day; it will add to my daughters' +fortunes."</p> + +<p>"They will have great fortunes, your daughters."</p> + +<p>"Maybe."</p> + +<p>"All you pay me for my risks and labour is but a few hundred rupees."</p> + +<p>"If your commission is low—it is your own fault. The more you bring +me, the more you receive."</p> + +<p>"I receive but little. I am a poor man. I have a large family to +maintain; they all look to me."</p> + +<p>"They will be looking for you now!" said Mrs. Chandos briskly.</p> + +<p>"Truly thou art a hard woman—hard as a rock."</p> + +<p>As she spoke Abdul rose and closed the ledger before him with a bang. +Mrs. Chandos also rose, and with her foot turned back a rug in the +middle of the room; under this was revealed a trap door, which she +proceeded to unlock, whilst Abdul Buk lifted the heavy lid. Below was a +small space, wherein were boxes and account books.</p> + +<p>"Surely this is a great convenience," she said. "Here, in the old days +of the factory, they too kept money and books."</p> + +<p>The bag of knotted twine and the big account book were laid within, the +trap door was closed, the rug replaced.</p> + +<p>"I may not come here again for some time," said Abdul Buk. "Salwey +spends half a week at Manora; I cannot understand what brings him here, +unless he what you call 'smells a rat.'"</p> + +<p>"Bah!" exclaimed Mrs. Chandos, with great scorn.</p> + +<p>"Here I am ill at ease. Now, in my quarters in the cantonment bazaar, I +feel all right. There I can do business, and take measures."</p> + +<p>"Truly, yes," assented Mrs. Chandos, "'every dog is a lion in his own +lane.' Your peons, and the little deaf writer, how fare they?"</p> + +<p>"They are at your service. Behold! they are well chosen. They know +neither pity nor fear. Thou art a woman with a strong mind."</p> + +<p>"I am," she answered complacently, "and it is the mind that maketh +the body rich! Meet me in two weeks' time, by chance, at the railway +station—I will name the hour and day—and there we will confer about +the loans on the wheat crop."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chandos, as she spoke, turned down the lamp, and went out, locking +the door of the office, while Abdul Buk stole round the corner of the +bungalow and along the road to where his phaeton was waiting, and drove +away.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The next morning Razat Sing, a tall old man, leading by the hand his +blind wife, presented himself at the Chandos verandah, and asked to see +the Mem Sahib.</p> + +<p>"What would you?" she demanded, in her shrill voice.</p> + +<p>"Great lady," and he salaamed to the ground, "protector of the poor, +it hath come to my knowledge that Abdul Buk—whose rope is round our +necks—will do much for a word from thee."</p> + +<p>"Aré, what nonsense is this?" she screeched, in her fluent Hindustani. +"Art thou mad? What have I to do with such as thee?"</p> + +<p>All her daughters were assembled in the verandah, listening to this +conversation; the servants, too, were, as usual, within earshot.</p> + +<p>"It is true, O! lady, they say, that thou hast done him some noble +favour; therefore, will he listen to thee. We ask not much—only +to remain in the old house by the old well, on the soil on which I +was born. Lo! when I say we ask not much—we ask our lives. Sixty +years have I toiled and striven," holding up as he spoke his worn, +knotted hands; "I have not wasted my money on aught; I have gone no +pilgrimages; I have held no feasts; I have fed scantily; I have worked +harder than a mill bullock, but to no avail—the fruit of these hands +hath gone to the money-lenders, for once, in an evil hour, I did +borrow one hundred rupees. Alas, I am now in the toils of Saloo, the +soucar—he groweth richer and richer as we wax poorer and poorer; and +I have no son to carry on the debt—therefore am I driven forth, being +old and feeble. Speak but one word, oh, great lady, and Abdul Buk will +grant us our request."</p> + +<p>As he pleaded the poor old creature, whose body was almost +skeleton-like in its leanness, whose only garments were a dhoti and a +ragged red turban, sobbed aloud as he went down upon his knees, and +placed his head at the feet of Mrs. Chandos.</p> + +<p>"Bah! what have I to do with Abdul Buk?" she cried, "and his affairs? +Go! I mix not myself up with crops and beggars!" To avoid further +importunity—and secretly startled and alarmed—she retreated indoors. +The old ryot raised himself with a groan, slowly picked up his stick, +took his blind wife by the hand, and with downcast head led her away in +silence. They were a truly pitiful sight. Verona and Pussy whispered +together. Between them they had two rupees, and with these in her hand, +Pussy ran after old Razat Sing, and pressed the silver into his palm, +but he seemed to be dazed with trouble, and scarcely aware of her gift.</p> + +<p>"I know where he lives," said Pussy to Verona, "it is the old house +under the big pepul tree, a mile off the Bhetapore road. Let us walk up +there to-morrow morning, and take them some clothes. We will get Nani +to help us."</p> + +<p>The two girls constantly walked in the morning, but Dominga was a +lie-a-bed. And now and then they were joined by Mrs. Lepell—also an +early riser.</p> + +<p>At tennis that same evening, Verona related the story of Saloo to Mrs. +Lepell.</p> + +<p>"I mean to go to see old Razat Sing, too," she declared. "My husband +will give him quarters, and he can sweep up the leaves in the garden; +of course, it will be a change from his home, but still it means food +and shelter. If I could pay off his debt, I would, but if I began to +release the poor slaves, I should never have done—I might as well try +to empty the sea with a tea-spoon."</p> + +<p>At three o'clock the next morning the three ladies set forth on their +charitable errand; the two girls carried a piece of calico for a turban +and a little shawl, Mrs. Lepell some rupees. On their way they were +overtaken by Salwey, who, strange to say, was also about to look up the +unfortunate ryot; he dismounted and walked along with Verona, his aunt +and Pussy being in advance.</p> + +<p>It was a beautiful February morning; the dew was still glistening on +the grass, the air was cool, the sky blue and cloudless; presently +the little party came in view of a dwelling, standing some way off +the road. There was a well, an enclosed patch of garden, a ruined +cart-shed, and at the back some cow-sheds. The whole place had a +forlorn and dilapidated appearance, but once upon a time had evidently +some pretensions to importance.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lepell and Verona went to the door and knocked gently—no reply. +They opened it and entered; the room was bare and scrupulously clean. +The fire was out; near it were some earthen pots, an iron spoon and +plate; some very old harness hung on the wall; in one corner was a +plough and a battered leather bucket. The inner room, into which they +peeped, was dark; there they discerned a string bed, on which lay a +huddled-up figure under a tattered coverlet.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lepell addressed this figure in Hindustani, but there was no +reply. She went nearer, and turned back the comli, or blanket; the +old blind woman lay with her face to the wall; she did not move when +her visitor placed her hand on her shoulder, for she was quite dead. +Charged with this appalling discovery, Pussy darted out to break the +news to Salwey, who had been fastening up his horse. When he came in +and surveyed the still figure on the charpoy, he looked very grave; +then, as he led the way into the outer room, he said to the three +ladies:</p> + +<p>"Will you wait here? I will be back in a moment."</p> + +<p>In a very short time he returned; he had an open clasp knife in his +hand.</p> + +<p>"It was as I feared," he said, "the poor old chap is dead too; he +hanged himself with the well rope—I have just cut him down."</p> + +<p>Having locked up the house of death, Salwey rode off at once to make +arrangements for the inquest, while the three ladies returned home. +Pussy, who was weeping bitterly, sobbed to her sister:</p> + +<p>"You remember yesterday, Verona, what poor old Razat Sing said, 'he was +asking for their lives'—it was true."</p> + +<p>As the police officer galloped in to the cantonments he believed that +he held in his hand the clue to Saloo's identity, for he had found a +morsel of writing in the ragged turban of the suicide. If old Razat +Sing was the means of delivering others from the usurer's yoke—he had +not died in vain.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The tragic fate of Razat Sing and his blind wife made a little stir for +a few days in and around Manora, but, unfortunately, these suicides +of despair were becoming common; public sensitiveness was somewhat +hardened and callous—familiarity breeds indifference. Razat Sing had +hanged himself; his blind wife had gone from darkness to darkness by +the aid of a little poisonous root. There was an end of the old couple, +and other affairs wafted these two insignificant particles down the +dark river of forgetfulness. The great charity ball already mentioned +was imminent at Lucknow; it was to be on a grand scale, and held in +that notable building, "the Chutter-Munzil," formerly the palace of +the kings of Oude. This function would be the brilliant closing event +of the cold weather season. Residents from surrounding districts, +soldier folk from distant stations, and crowds of tourists, would +pour into Lucknow for the occasion, and thus swell the receipts of +the fund. Tickets were only ten rupees; the committee had been most +carefully selected; everything was to be thoroughly well done, and +carried out on a scale of unusual magnitude. Mrs. Lepell, who was one +of the patronesses, volunteered to chaperon Verona and Pussy, and had +taken rooms at an hotel, where the two girls would be her guests. (Mrs. +Chandos, not to be behindhand, had secured somewhat squalid quarters +for herself in the abode of a friend, and would be present at the ball, +carrying in her train Dominga and Blanche.) This visit was an event +for Verona, who had seen nothing of India beyond Manora and Rajahpore. +The afternoon of her arrival at the "Royal Hotel" Mrs. Lepell drove +the two girls out to see the historic Residency; its grey walls, +torn and shattered by shot and shell, were now clothed by the most +exquisite white and yellow creepers. The compound, that scene of such +desperate bloodshed, was a velvet sward, intersected with neat paths +and flowering shrubs.</p> + +<p>It was only when the sightseers came to the graves, that Tragedy raised +her face. From the Residency the party were driven round by Dilkoosha +and into the cantonment. Here they saw numbers of people riding and +driving; polo was going forward, bands were playing, and in some places +the traffic of landaus, dog-carts, ekkas and bullock bandies was so +great that the roads were almost blocked. Here, too, were bugle calls, +the sounds of cheery English voices, the distant hum of a great city. +Here was another India to Manora, with its monotonous stretches of +rippling cane, half-naked coolies, and a few red-roofed bungalows, +clustered around the factory.</p> + +<p>It was ten o'clock; the hired landau was at the steps and Mrs. Lepell +and her charges were ready to start for the ball. The lady herself, +who was always admirably turned out, wore a dress of a delicate mauve +shade, and splendid diamond ornaments. Verona, in white, wore her +pearls and a wonderful bow of brilliants, which fastened her corsage; +these being her most valuable possessions she had hoarded them in a +little chamois-leather bag, and thus saved them from the thieves. +No doubt her jewels and her dress were startlingly unsuitable to +the daughter of Mr. Lepell's sub-manager, but she had resolved for +once to enjoy the occasion, and to abandon herself to this evening's +entertainment as the Verona Chandos of other days. Mrs. Lepell mentally +seconded this resolution, and was determined that nothing on her part +should be wanting to encourage the illusion.</p> + +<p>When they arrived at the Chutter-Munzil, the ball was already in full +progress (Indian ball-goers are notoriously punctual). Mrs. Lepell was +recognised by many acquaintances as she moved up to a raised platform +at the other end of the room, sacred to sitters-out. Many a glance +was cast at her beautiful companion, and, indeed, Pussy, in a smart +pink gown, with her luminous eyes and smiling lips, was a by no means +ill-looking young person. All sorts and conditions of people were +present—a charity entertainment covers many classes—but there was a +large preponderance of smart people, and crowds of men, the dresses and +the diamonds well up to the mark of a London ball-room. Verona stood by +her chaperon on the raised platform, and looked down on the scene—the +great pillared hall, the wonderful chandeliers and the glittering +show. A multitude gay with uniforms, bright dresses, bright faces, and +bright jewels, whirled round and round to the strains of a languorous, +heart-broken waltz.</p> + +<p>Among the dancers who swept by she noticed Captain Haig and Captain +Fielder, and presently Salwey sauntered up and accosted his aunt.</p> + +<p>"Why, Brian," she cried, "I thought you told me that you could not +possibly get away?"</p> + +<p>"I've just managed it at the last moment. I go back the day after +to-morrow. One ball a year is not much. Miss Chandos," turning to +Verona, "I hope you will honour me with a waltz?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, with pleasure," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Number seven?"</p> + +<p>"Very well," she acquiesced.</p> + +<p>"And what do you say to the fag end of this one? just to try the floor."</p> + +<p>Verona rose, took his arm, and descended into the vortex and found to +her great relief that Brian Salwey, in spite of but one ball a year, +danced delightfully well. As she presently stood aside a little out of +breath, he said:</p> + +<p>"I've been trying to trace your jewels," and he glanced at her +beautiful diamonds; "I see you had <i>some</i> left."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she assented, "these I had sewn inside the sleeve of one of my +dresses—they are the most valuable of all."</p> + +<p>"I believe I am on the track of the others," he said, "but the +necklace—has gone to Delhi."</p> + +<p>"From whence I feel convinced it will never come back!" she said; +"well, it cannot be helped. After all, it would not be much use to me +now."</p> + +<p>"I left your brother Nicky in charge of my stud while I am away; he +is monarch of all he surveys. I expect he will keep the horses going +pretty well."</p> + +<p>"Yes, poor Nicky," she said, "he is so fond of riding, and would never +get a mount at all only for you. You have been very good to him, Mr. +Salwey."</p> + +<p>"Good to myself," he rejoined. "Nicky is capital company for me, and I +like him; there is a lot of grit about that boy; unless I am mistaken, +he will turn out well."</p> + +<p>As they talked, they were strolling slowly round the great ball-room, +the dance being over, and among the crowd they encountered Captain +Haig, who paused, not a little startled to behold the Miss Chandos +of other days! On the spur of the moment he accosted her and begged +for a dance. This she at once accorded him, and having scribbled down +"Captain Haig" opposite number nine, passed on. Mrs. Lepell, who had +found partners for Pussy, was now besieged for introductions to her +friend, "the girl in white," and in a few moments after Verona's return +to her side she had not one dance to spare.</p> + +<p>Dominga and Captain Fielder were inseparable, and for once reckless +of appearances; Dom with her lithe white figure, her red hair, green +wreath, and bright shameless eyes, looked like a beautiful Bacchante. +As Captain Haig lounged on the edge of the crowd, he overheard several +sentences which sank into his mind and there abode.</p> + +<p>"Do just look at that red-haired girl! how she is enjoying herself," +remarked a man to his partner—a lady of a certain age and importance. +"What a graceful creature she is!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she seems crazy with excitement! I really wonder Captain Fielder +cares to make himself so conspicuous, especially as he is staying at +Government House. She is a Eurasian, from that sugar factory near +Rajahpore. Her mother is as black as your boot—she has aunts and +uncles in the bazaar!"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, I would not have believed it."</p> + +<p>"It is true, and here comes another of them," as Blanche swept by, in +the arms of a dusky partner. Blanche, showing all her teeth, as she +chattered incessantly; Blanche decked out in a flame-coloured frock, +with long blue silk gloves and strings of shells in her hair.</p> + +<p>"I daresay you would not believe that that girl opposite in white +is their sister," and the lady indicated Verona with her fan. "She +has been in England, and looks quite presentable, only for her paste +ornaments! Mrs. Lepell brought her here to-night—such a mistake! they +are awful people, and have no pretensions to be in society."</p> + +<p>"At any rate, the girl seems to have any number of fellows clamouring +to dance with her!" remarked the man rather dryly. "She is uncommonly +handsome. I should never have thought that <i>she</i> had a touch of the tar +brush."</p> + +<p>"Well, she has, and four annas in the rupee at least!" retorted his +partner viciously. (Verona had been admired in her hearing, and was +obviously overwhelmed with partners, whilst <i>she</i> had only three names +on her programme, and was naturally envious and annoyed.) Captain Haig, +now too late, bitterly regretted his impulse. What a fool he had been +to ask the girl to dance! He had no desire to make himself conspicuous +by being seen with her; besides, what was the good of it? She and he +must be strangers for the future. At one moment he thought of shirking +number nine altogether—finally, he decided to claim it, and withdraw +into some secluded place, and there sit it out. And here was number +nine now! As the band had struck up "Valse Bleu," Captain Haig and +his partner took one turn before they came to a full stop, and then +they stood side by side in silence. He still deplored his momentary +madness—what had possessed him? what was he to say to this girl? He +was dumb, and from all sides rose the hum of voices, and there was a +general effect of gaiety and social pleasure. At last he muttered:</p> + +<p>"Shall we go on?" and slipped his arm round her waist.</p> + +<p>At the end of a brief turn, he abruptly led his partner away into a +distant corridor lined with seats. Was he ashamed to be seen with her? +This was the humbling impression he gave his former goddess. Yet he +felt the spell of her beauty drawing him towards her, precisely as it +had done of old, and he also felt that he was bound to say <i>something</i>. +How was he to tell her that he had adored her until the disclosure of +her parentage had extinguished his passion? As he stood beside her, +still tongue-tied, whilst she fanned herself with a languid grace, her +mother flaunted by on the arm of a stout Eurasian. Mrs. Chandos wore +the celebrated pink satin, a tuft of feathers quivered in her hair; at +her throat sparkled the emerald pendant. She was talking so eagerly to +her companion that the presence of her daughter entirely escaped her +sharp black eyes. As she disappeared down the corridor, Captain Haig +stifled a sigh, and began without preamble:</p> + +<p>"Miss Chandos—what must you think of me? but I will say one +thing—I shall honour <i>you</i> as long as ever I live—and I ask +for—nothing—don't hate me—but——" and he paused with embarrassing +significance.</p> + +<p>"Hate you, Captain Haig?" she exclaimed, looking up; "why should I hate +you? I"—and her eyes involuntarily followed the little mincing pink +figure—"I understand."</p> + +<p>"I am most awfully wretched," he continued, in a lachrymose voice.</p> + +<p>"'Into each lot some rain must fall,'" she quoted gently.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, then, I've had a whole monsoon! all my hopes have been torn +down and washed away. You know what they were."</p> + +<p>Before she could make any reply to this question the band ceased with a +crash, and a crowd of dancers poured into the corridor, <i>en route</i> to +the refreshment-room. As Dom and Captain Fielder hurried by, she said, +as she looked after the retreating couple:</p> + +<p>"Captain Fielder is your cousin, I believe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," giving himself a mental shake, "my second cousin—not a bad sort +of chap—rather a silly ass in some things."</p> + +<p>"Now I am going to ask you a strange question. Do you think he intends +to marry my sister?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Chandos, since you put it to me straight like that, I +should say that I am sure he does not."</p> + +<p>"Captain Haig, do you remember a note you wrote me the morning you left +Homburg?"</p> + +<p>"I do—I remember everything in any way connected with you" (this was +a statement of the wildest exaggeration), "every dress you wore, every +word you said, every look you gave me."</p> + +<p>"You remember what you said in that letter?"</p> + +<p>"I do. If ever the Princess wanted a champion, to summon <i>me</i>."</p> + +<p>"I am no Princess now—but I need your help sorely."</p> + +<p>"All right, only too glad to get the chance of being of service—to +you."</p> + +<p>"It is not for myself exactly—it is to help my sister Dominga." He +frowned involuntarily. "Yes, I want you to use your influence with your +cousin—to get him to put an end to this foolish affair—otherwise +I am convinced it will end in a—a scandal. My father has had many +troubles—he must be spared this. A family disgrace—would kill him!"</p> + +<p>"He shall be spared this if I can manage it, but Jimmy is a queer +mixture; in one way he is weak, and easily worked upon—in another, the +more you oppose him, the harder he resists. If I tried to interfere +openly, it would be no good. Can't <i>you</i> persuade your sister to break +it off?"</p> + +<p>"No; she is hopelessly headstrong, and deaf as an adder to all my +entreaties. She thinks"—and here she paused.</p> + +<p>"What does she think?"</p> + +<p>"You will laugh when I tell you—she thinks that I am jealous."</p> + +<p>"Jealous of her, and that empty-headed dolt. Good heavens! I say, I'll +tell you what I can do. The hot weather is coming on—I have invited +Jimmy to spend a couple of months tiger shooting in the Terai. He is +not particularly keen, but I'll do my very best to persuade him. In two +months he will have forgotten her—a fortnight is his usual limit—but +she won't forget him, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but that won't matter; for, as my grandmother says, 'One hand +cannot clap.'"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say your grandmother is alive?" he asked aghast.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and a most remarkable woman," she replied, with the utmost +nonchalance; "very clever indeed in medicine and nursing—full of wise +sayings. I am extremely fond of her."</p> + +<p>Captain Haig made no remark, and she continued:</p> + +<p>"You will go soon—won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Out shooting? Yes," he answered, with a start; "I'll make +arrangements, and we will set out the week after next."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, a thousand times."</p> + +<p>"Don't—I wish I could do a thousand times more."</p> + +<p>At this moment Dominga and her partner returned and halted directly in +front of them.</p> + +<p>"We have been having oysters—delicious oysters," she announced, and a +wild vivacity was in her face and manner. "I'd advise you two to go and +get some before they are all gone."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Miss Chandos," said Captain Haig, "but I have not your +courage."</p> + +<p>"Cha-a-ah! fancy being afraid of a poor little oyster—a Bombay oyster! +What are you two confabbing about? You look as if you were discussing +the affairs of the nation."</p> + +<p>Verona made no answer (a partner had come to claim her for the next +dance), and her late cavalier replied to the question with a forced +smile.</p> + +<p>"We were only arranging the affairs of some of our friends."</p> + +<p>Dominga, as she moved on, turned her long neck, and with one of her +peacock screams, cried:</p> + +<p>"Happy friends!"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Mrs. Lepell resolutely refused to dance; she declared that she did not +consider it compatible with her responsibility as chaperon. But she +chatted to her many friends, and listened complacently to the warm +admiration they expressed for the pretty girl she brought with her. All +at once Brian Salwey came and threw himself into a seat beside her, and +said:</p> + +<p>"Now, I'm going to give you a shock, Aunt Liz."</p> + +<p>"That will be nothing new," she retorted with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"But this, I warn you, will be out of the common. Do you know what +brought me here to-night?"</p> + +<p>"The train, and a second-class gharry."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and the solemn resolve to ask Miss Verona Chandos to marry me!"</p> + +<p>"No words can express my astonishment! Brian, you must be mad!" she +exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"No; although I do three acrostics a week, I'm still fairly sane. What +have you to say against her? She is a lady, she is beautiful, and she +is good. What more would you have?"</p> + +<p>"Well, since you ask me, I would have a little money, and, my dear +Brian! think of her family! Think of your mother-in-law! Think of your +grandmother-in-law!"</p> + +<p>"At present," he replied with the utmost composure, "I am not disposed +to think of anyone but Verona, and if it comes to that, why don't you +ask me to think of my father and my step-mother? My father married to +please himself, and I shall certainly do the same."</p> + +<p>"I had not the smallest suspicion of this," murmured Mrs. Lepell, +opening and shutting her fan, with a meditative air.</p> + +<p>"Has it not occurred to you that I have been a good deal at Manora of +late?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"To what did you attribute that?"</p> + +<p>"To a natural desire to see me, your Aunt Liz, your mother's only +sister. You know you are rather fond of your Aunt Liz."</p> + +<p>"I am," he assented, and he laid his hand in hers, "and as it was +certainly my Aunt Liz who first drew my attention to Verona Chandos, +she has only to thank herself for the result."</p> + +<p>"I am much attached to Verona myself; she is a dear, good girl; her +beautiful face is but the outer shell of a beautiful, unselfish soul. +Still, in spite of her mind and form, and much as I love her, I do not +desire her as a niece. I know there is no use in arguing with you, +Brian. What will be, will be. Your mind is made up, you will ask her to +marry you, possibly within the hour."</p> + +<p>"Possibly."</p> + +<p>"And within the hour—she will refuse you."</p> + +<p>"That remains to be seen," rejoined her nephew rising, as a general +covered with orders came forward, and asked Mrs. Lepell if he might +have the pleasure of taking her down to supper.</p> + +<p>Verona had followed with Brian Salwey, who, with some difficulty, +piloted his fair lady through the crowded room, and found two empty +places at a large central table. She had scarcely been seated, and was +taking off her gloves, when she heard her name spoken, and looking up +saw a handsome, middle-aged woman, wearing a diamond tiara, leaning +towards her eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Surely it is Verona Chandos?" she enquired.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lady Ida!" she exclaimed, "is it you? What a surprise!"</p> + +<p>"To you, but not to me. I have been expecting to come across you +ever since I left Bombay," rejoined the other—speaking precisely as +if India were a small country town. "The Melvilles told me you were +out here. How do you like the gorgeous East? Not much," she added, +answering herself, "you look a little pale and thin, but of course I +would recognise you anywhere, by my very dear friend, your beautiful +diamond bow! You and I must have a long chat by and by," and with this +remark she once more turned her attention to her companion, and her +plate.</p> + +<p>"Who is the very dear friend of your diamond bow?" inquired Salwey.</p> + +<p>"Lady Ida Eustace—she lives near the Melvilles, who brought me up. I +have known her since I was a small child. She is a charming woman—so +popular. Don't you think her handsome?"</p> + +<p>(Lady Ida had an oval face, an aquiline nose, a pair of merry dark +eyes, and a presence!)</p> + +<p>"Um"—doubtfully; "I think she has plenty to say for herself. Who is +she when she is at home?"</p> + +<p>"She is married to Captain Eustace, who hunts the Halstead hounds. They +have no children, and travel a good deal."</p> + +<p>"We have been globe-trotting, as usual," resumed Lady Ida, once more +addressing Verona. "The doctors would not allow Cecil to winter in +England—such a blow for him. Do you know what has chiefly impressed me +in India?—the cold!"</p> + +<p>Verona smiled and said, "I have not felt it yet!"</p> + +<p>"I do assure you I never was prepared for it. At Delhi I simply could +not sleep at night, and Cecil actually had to pile Persian rugs on his +bed. I suppose you have done no end of sight-seeing?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. I only began yesterday."</p> + +<p>"What have you been about, you lazy girl? Well, we move on to Benares +day after to-morrow, and you had better come too?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I could not manage that—thank you very much, Lady Ida."</p> + +<p>"Pray who is your chaperon? Do let me ask her? Who brought you to the +ball?"</p> + +<p>"A friend, Mrs. Lepell."</p> + +<p>"Lepell—Lepell!" she repeated, closing her eyes. "Now, let me think; +yes! Her sister married a Colonel Salwey; she was a friend of mine, and +died young. He married again, oh, such a little——"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, but I think you are speaking of my father," interrupted +Brian, and looking straight at Lady Ida as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Oh! am I? Then you must be the boy I remember. Dear me! dear me! it +makes me feel quite an old woman! How odd that I should meet you, and +begin talking of your people. I've a dreadful way of stumbling into +social pitfalls—and I was just about to discuss your stepmother. Now, +tell me, when can I see your aunt?"</p> + +<p>"Any time after supper. You will find her up on the daïs place. She is +wearing a sort of purple gown."</p> + +<p>(A sort of purple gown!—that exquisite French garment of misty mauve +and silver.)</p> + +<p>"Very well—and, Verona, I must have a little talk with you. I suppose +you are engaged ten deep?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I think I could give you the Lancers," she rejoined, "to sit +out."</p> + +<p>"My dear child! I am engaged; I am dancing with the +Lieutenant-Governor! Oh, do please look at this party who have just +come in—the two women especially. It is not often you see such dark +complexions in society! How <i>did</i> they get here? Observe the creature +with the shell chains in her hair. Why! you know them!" as Blanche +nodded at Verona; "who are they?"</p> + +<p>"They are my mother and sister," she answered in a low voice, and her +features were so controlled as to be almost expressionless.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!" exclaimed Lady Ida, and the colour flew from her cheeks +to her hair. "Oh, my dear girl, you are not serious!"</p> + +<p>"I believe this is our dance," suggested Salwey, with admirable +invention and composure, rising and pushing back his chair, "and it has +already begun. Shall we go?"</p> + +<p>In another moment Verona and her partner had disappeared, leaving Lady +Ida gazing at a certain group at a side table, and greatly puzzled to +know whether Verona Chandos were in jest or earnest. Then she suddenly +remembered that there was some queer story about the girl's relations +in India, and her ladyship relapsed into unwonted silence, and left her +supper untouched, and as soon as her cavalier was movable, requested +him to pilot her to the upper seats in the ball room, where she lost no +time in making a search for a certain lady in a purple gown.</p> + +<p>"We are just in time," said Salwey, as he and his partner re-entered +the ball room; "we can have a second supper." He felt the hand on +his arm trembling, and the girl's face was ashen pale; undoubtedly +the scene at the supper table had told; but she maintained an air of +composure, and the dignity of a high-bred silence, and in another +moment they were launched upon the current of dancers. The waltz was +a well-known German favourite—many a step had Verona danced to it +elsewhere. When the last bar had sobbed away into the empty air, Salwey +led his companion out to the great flagged terrace which overlooks the +river.</p> + +<p>It was a splendid Eastern night, light as day—no Indian ball would +be complete without the moon. There were numbers of couples on the +terrace, and Salwey guided his partner to where there were two spare +seats, close to the parapet! No skulking in corners for him. He was +proud to be seen with the new Miss Chandos.</p> + +<p>"There is a lot of 'go' about this dance, is there not?" he remarked. +"It is like a bit of your former life—old friends and all. I say, what +a change it must have been to you, coming out to Manora."</p> + +<p>"It was," she assented, without lifting her eyes from the river.</p> + +<p>"I am going to propose"—he paused; she turned and looked at him +gravely—"another change." And in quite a matter-of-fact voice he added:</p> + +<p>"Miss Chandos, will you marry me?"</p> + +<p>For a moment she stared at him, as if unable to realise the question.</p> + +<p>A host of thoughts flew through her brain. Only one little month ago +she had been prepared to marry Captain Haig, and she now recalled this +fact with a sense of shame. But her mother's tongue and temper had +strained her courage beyond the pitch of endurance. At the approach +of her step she mentally quailed; at the sound of her voice her heart +fluttered. Since then she had fought a stern battle with herself; she +had braced her soul to accept the inevitable. Her health was better, +her nerves were more composed, and she had resolved never to marry. +Here was the first and only proposal she had received since her arrival +in India (the promised land of proposals), and what a curious contrast +was presented by this wooer to her former numerous suitors. He was a +mere nobody—a Superintendent of Police. But then, he was not suing for +the hand of Verona Chandos, the great heiress, but the hand of Verona, +the penniless half-caste. He was well acquainted with her history, and +with her circle of most undesirable connections. Whatever had been +in the minds of her former lovers, this generous man was entirely +disinterested. He cared for nothing but herself. Nevertheless, she +was determined to say No. She would refuse to spoil his life, and to +drag him into her miserable affairs. His aunt, too, who loved her as a +protégée, would undoubtedly detest her as a niece!</p> + +<p>She glanced from the glittering silver river to Salwey, who sat on the +edge of the parapet leaning towards her, the shining flood at his back +threw into strong relief his square shoulders and well-poised head. She +looked into his face—his strong, stern face—his steady blue eyes, +which were fixed gravely on her own, and anxiously awaiting her reply.</p> + +<p>Another dance had commenced, and the distant music filled the air with +a low, humming noise. Close by (with a partner and atmosphere of "Ess +Bouquet") sat Blanche, squeaking, giggling and jingling her bangles. +"Oh, you nartie man—be quiett! be quiett!" and there was a sound of a +brisk smack; "you shall not say so. No-a! No-a!"</p> + +<p>If Verona's mind had been momentarily undecided, her sister Blanche now +recalled her to her senses and hardened her heart to a fixed resolution.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Salwey, you have taken me by surprise. You have done me a great +honour," here she paused.</p> + +<p>"There!" he ejaculated; "I know—that's what girls always say when they +mean to let a fellow down easy."</p> + +<p>"I could not marry you—I will never marry any one."</p> + +<p>"What is your reason?" he asked sharply.</p> + +<p>"Need you enquire? I will never be a party to what is called a 'mixed +marriage.'"</p> + +<p>"As, for example?"</p> + +<p>"As, for example, my own father and mother."</p> + +<p>"Come, that is nonsense!" he protested impatiently. "You are no more +like her—than I am like him."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but you cannot tell what we might become. I have no doubt we +should both be miserable. My father——"</p> + +<p>Then he interrupted:</p> + +<p>"Your father came to grief, good, amiable gentleman, because he never +could say the word 'no.' Now I can; in fact, strange as it may sound, +such is my peculiar character, that my first impulse is to say 'no' +sooner than 'yes.'"</p> + +<p>"Then I trust you will pardon me for saying 'no' to you."</p> + +<p>"It is not a case of pardon at all. For me, it is a profound +disappointment. I scarcely ventured to hope you would accept me right +off, but I thought you might give me a little encouragement—just a +little bit of hope to go on with."</p> + +<p>"I had no idea you cared for me in this way, Mr. Salwey."</p> + +<p>"Well, I do. I have cared for you 'in this way' as you call it, ever +since I first saw you in Aunt Liz's garden, sitting under the bamboo +trees. You are the first woman I ever asked to marry me, and I think +you will be the last. Of course, I am aware that from a worldly point +of view, I am not much of a match for anyone—only a police wallah, a +D. S. P. with five hundred rupees a month. I went to Harrow and was +going into the Service, but I got a bad fall out hunting, and was +laid on my back for a good while, and could not go up for Sandhurst. +Meanwhile, my father married again—a woman none of us liked, but he +was quite infatuated about her. She declared it was nonsense, my +reading for the army; I should always be loafing about at home, for the +chances were I would not pass. She thought me dull—and, I confess, I'm +not particularly brilliant—so she got me a nomination in the police, +and packed me off to India, and here I am. But I'm not bound to live +here always. I believe I could get a billet in our own country. If"—he +came to a full stop, and then went on. "And is it really, No?" he +asked, looking at her steadily.</p> + +<p>She bowed her head, and then lifted her eyes slowly, and looked not +into his, but over his shoulder at the river; Suddenly she gave a +little shiver, and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Oh, what is it? I feel something so cold in the air. So—so—so +strange!" and she shivered again. "I should like to go indoors, Mr. +Salwey," standing up as she spoke. "Indeed I am most grateful to you +now, and some day, you will be grateful to me. I hope we may be friends +till then—and always. Now please take me back to your Aunt Lizzie."</p> + +<p>Although Captain Haig danced continuously—chiefly with the party +from Government House—he happened to notice that Salwey hung about +doorways, and that his eyes were constantly fixed on Miss Verona +Chandos. Was he <i>épris</i> also? Would he dare to marry her? Brave Salwey! +They had been at Harrow together, and Salwey had always been notorious +for a species of reckless, and at the same time dogged, courage. Well, +the girl herself was lovely—whatever her people were—and apparently +fate had no stroke that she could not bear with dignity and fortitude.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> +</div> + + +<p>It was just tiffin-time at the hotel, and Mrs. Lepell, somewhat weary +and yawning, was about to summon her two young ladies, when her ayah +hurried into her room in breathless haste, and announced:</p> + +<p>"Salwey Sahib want see Mem Sahib," and her nephew followed almost on +the ayah's heels. He looked so discomposed that she knew at once that +something serious had happened.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what is it?" she asked. "Is it Tom?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said, glancing round the room to see that all the doors were +closed—then lowering his voice, he added:</p> + +<p>"It is Nicky Chandos."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lepell stepped back and sank into a chair.</p> + +<p>"Ssh! don't talk loud. Tell me all about it. How did you hear?"</p> + +<p>"The head constable has come in with a letter, and I am off in five +minutes. I left the poor boy the use of my horses, and last night he +was riding out to Manora on Baber, no doubt full gallop. Some devil +had put a rope across the road. Baber broke his neck, and I fancy that +Nicky was killed on the spot. They were found early this morning, with +my dog 'Chum' on guard over the two bodies."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lepell endeavoured to speak, but failed.</p> + +<p>"And the worst of it is," resumed her nephew, "the trap was intended +for <i>me</i>; several people were anxious that I should break my neck—but +poor Nicky had not an enemy in the world. Now I must be off to the +inquest and funeral; I will leave you to break it to the family here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but really, Brian—I cannot!"</p> + +<p>At this moment Verona entered the room:</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," she said, drawing back from what seemed a private +interview between aunt and nephew.</p> + +<p>"No, no, no—Verona, come here," cried her friend; "Brian, you must +tell her."</p> + +<p>Salwey looked down on the ground for a moment, and then he said, with +obvious reluctance:</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose I must. Miss Chandos, I'm sorry to say—I am the +bearer of very bad news. Your brother Nicky——"</p> + +<p>"Is hurt?" she questioned. There being no answer—"Is dead?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he fell into a trap intended for me, and was killed on the spot."</p> + +<p>Verona covered her face with her hands and leant against the wall.</p> + +<p>"You know, <i>you</i> are the one to bear up," he continued, "you will tell +Dominga—Dominga will tell your mother. Tell them"—and his voice +shook a little—"the poor boy's death must have been instantaneous and +painless." And without another word he opened the door and went out.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>When Mrs. Chandos and her daughters returned to Manora the following +day, the funeral had already taken place. The sudden, as it were, +departure of Nicky struck them all with a sort of icy chill. Nicky's +place was vacant; his chair at table stood empty.</p> + +<p>Two days previously he had been among them, noisy and cheery; whistling +about the bungalow, knocking things over and carpentering; the most +active and animated of the whole family—and now he was gone—not down +the river to Mr. Salwey's, not into Rajahpore for an hour or two, +but gone—gone, never to come back. There were his books, his shabby +clothes, his cap, his tennis bat—everywhere they looked their eyes met +something to recall Nicky. Nicky had never been his mother's favourite +child—Dominga, Blanche, and even Pussy, came far before him; but her +grief was loud, ceaseless and unreasoning. She had long fits of frantic +screaming that nothing would subdue, and poor old Mrs. Lopez, who was +heartbroken at the death of her darling, vainly endeavoured to soothe +her.</p> + +<p>Good Mrs. Cavalho, true angel in cases of sickness and death, tried her +best to comfort them both. At times, such was Mrs. Chandos's grief, +that she was as if demented, tossing her head from side to side, and +crying out:</p> + +<p>"Oh, my poor boy! Oh, my poor boy! He is dead! And that is not the +worst—oh, you do not know the worst! Oh, my poor boy! my poor boy!"</p> + +<p>These cries were looked upon as the delirious ravings of a +grief-stricken mother; no one could make out, or even attempted to +understand, what Mrs. Chandos meant by saying:</p> + +<p>"Oh, you do not know the worst! Oh, you do not know the worst!"</p> + +<p>And one thing no one ever knew. It was never discovered who it was that +tied a well-rope across the road, where it was so dark under the peepul +trees, and thereby caused the death of Black Baber, and Nicky Chandos.</p> + +<p>The shock of his son's death appeared to have aroused Mr. Chandos +from his condition of mental stupor. As he stood by the graveside, a +dignified, pathetic figure in deep mourning, many now looked upon Paul +Chandos for the first time. Although the hand of affliction was heavy +upon him, and he was worn and weary-eyed, there was an indefinable +distinction in his air, and people were quite prepared to believe the +fable, that he was the next heir to an ancient name and great estate.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The hot weather had driven most of the residents in Rajahpore to the +hills. Mrs. Lepell had departed to Naini Tal, having vainly urged +Verona to accompany her, but Verona refused to leave home, and boldly +declared that she would like to find out if all the tales about the +season were true? The crops were reaped; where yellow grain and green +vetches had flourished was now but miles and miles of a substance +resembling red sandstone. The trees were leafless; the hot wind roared +about the country, driving clouds of sulphur-coloured dust before it, +and the thermometer was over a hundred in the shade. The doors of the +bungalow were fitted with transferable screens made of matting; over +these a coolie poured water continually, in order to establish a damp +atmosphere.</p> + +<p>The punkah swung lazily in the darkened room, in which sat Pussy and +Verona, and occasionally Mr. Chandos, but Mrs. Chandos and Dominga +made no effort to exert themselves; the latter lay brooding on her bed +for hours with a packet of love letters under her head. The expedition +had duly come off. Jimmy was away in the Terai, tiger-shooting with +his cousin, Captain Haig, and Dom was deserted and distraught. She +became thin, haggard, and unbearably restless; she spent hours writing +letters—and lived upon those she received. Dom rarely left the +house nowadays, and made not the slightest attempt to conceal her +indifference to Baby Charles. There had been no more notes for him in +"Mrs. Beeton's Book of Household Management," and on the rare occasions +when they happened to meet she snubbed him ruthlessly.</p> + +<p>"What did it mean?" After puzzling over the matter the station gave up +the riddle. They never imagined, even in their most brilliant moments, +that Dom had become tired of playing a part in a mock love affair, +and that all her thoughts, and hopes, and fears were buried in the +jungle—along with Jimmy Fielder.</p> + +<p>One afternoon Verona received an urgent message from her grandmother +to say that she wanted to see her at once in her own room. When she +entered the dufta she discovered the old lady sitting with crossed legs +on her red lacquered bed—her sole costume a charm and a chemise.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Nani?" enquired the girl, languidly.</p> + +<p>Nani continued to fan herself with a prodigious hand punkah, and +presently remarked:</p> + +<p>"Aré, Bai! it is hot to-day!"</p> + +<p>Verona nodded. Surely Nani had not wished to see her merely to inform +her of this obvious fact!</p> + +<p>"Shut the door, child, and sit down," resumed Mrs. Lopez. "Tell me, +have you noticed how happy Dom is these times? how she sings, and no +longer mopes like a sick owl? Would you hear the reason?"</p> + +<p>"If you please, Nani."</p> + +<p>"Once I told you she had a lover. Now I tell you—that she joins him in +a few hours."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Nani—it is impossible!"</p> + +<p>"Listen—he is one they call the 'Honourable.' At night he often came +out here to meet Dom—they thought no one knew. Cha-a-ah!" snapping her +fingers; "it was the talk of the bazaar. It came not to the knowledge +of the station folk—save of Salwey—who knows all things."</p> + +<p>"But about to-day, Nani?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, Dom goes to-day, and she is packing now," she added +tranquilly.</p> + +<p>"It must be stopped," said Verona, suddenly rising to her feet. "Think +of the shame and disgrace! your own grandchild!"</p> + +<p>"Nay, you are my grandchild, also Pussy—and my best of all is gone. +Aré, Hai! Hai! But Dom is naught. I know her, and keep my own counsel. +I have two ears—but one tongue. I meddle not with Dom. No! 'Let +everyone sweep before his own door'!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Nani, tell me what you know—and how you know it?"</p> + +<p>"How I know I will keep to myself, but <i>what</i> I know—is this. There +is the gate, half a mile beyond the factory, where by signal the train +stops for sugar and passengers. At night, when one would travel that +way, old Jaggerie shows a lamp—he will show it at ten o'clock, when +the mail for the north goes by. The plan is this. Dom, with her luggage +carried by a syce, will be there and meet the train. Her lover is in +it—they go together to Cashmere."</p> + +<p>"But he is in the Terai shooting," interrupted her listener.</p> + +<p>"He is not there now. Dom's letters have recalled him to her. You go +into her room and see if I do not speak truly. Then come back."</p> + +<p>Verona entered her sister's apartment, immediately after her knock, and +found her busily engaged in rolling up clothes into the smallest space, +and stuffing them into a leather bag, over which she threw a cloak +instantly—an instant too late. She looked hot and flushed.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she asked, peevishly; "what do you want? A paper? Goody +me! what paper?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Truth.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Then it is not here, so now," with a stamp of her foot, "you go; go, +go, go. I am busy."</p> + +<p>"Well?" enquired Mrs. Lopez, when Verona had returned.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are right. We must think of something?"</p> + +<p>"You suppose you can stop her—the Red Cat—no, better let her go."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Nani, no. Think of father, and do help me!"</p> + +<p>"If you have a stout heart—it can be done. Verona, see, you take +Zorah, my woman, you wear a dark frock, and lie in wait near Jaggerie's +hut. When he hears the train coming, about one mile away or less, he +raises the lamp and shows light. He is old and very fat; but you are +young. You throw a cloth over light, and run away and blow it out. No +light, no train, you see—and so—Dom will be left."</p> + +<p>"It is a splendid idea. I think I can manage to carry it out, Nani, +unless there is some other plan. Would you tell mother?"</p> + +<p>"No; does she ever gainsay Dom?"</p> + +<p>"Then Pussy?"</p> + +<p>"She would but laugh and cry and let them go. No, you are the only one, +and Zorah may be trusted. You snatch the light—she will hide it."</p> + +<p>At nine o'clock that night—a night so warm that the heat seemed to +fan one—Verona (supposed to have gone to bed) and Zorah, the ayah, +stole forth, and hurried away to the gate crossing. They arrived at the +hut, and crept round to the far side, and then stood in the shadow, +motionless. In twenty minutes' time Dom appeared, stepping delicately +on the warm, dried-up grass, and carefully holding up her spotless +white gown. She was closely followed by a syce, carrying a box and a +bag. Arrived at the gate she stood still, and held a long whispered +conference with old Jaggerie.</p> + +<p>"Truly, in fifteen minutes," he said aloud, "in fifteen she will pass. +You can hear the train three miles away this still night. When she +comes to the bend, I raise my lamp and all will be well," and forthwith +he returned to his huka. The fifteen minutes seemed to Verona like +fifteen hours. She felt cold with apprehension as she stood in the +shadow of the hut, straining her ears, and catching no sound but the +shrill chirping of insects in the air and the discordant cry of some +night bird. If she missed the lamp, and was caught and unmasked—what +then? If with jeers and derision Dom threw her aside and made her +escape—what then? And, after all, what right had she to put herself +forward in Dominga's life? She did it, since no one else could, to +save the name of "Chandos," to fend off this blow from her father's +bent head. Oh, here it was! She heard the train coming, and how her +heart thumped! At first the sound was merely a dull rumble, becoming +gradually louder and louder. Now it was at the turn, and Jaggerie +shuffled out of the hut swinging a great square lantern. But what was +<i>this</i>? Something from behind sprang on him, and dragged the lamp +from his nerveless grasp, and there was instantly a thick darkness! +The cries of Jaggerie—"A Shaitan! A Shaitan!" were mingled with the +agonised voice of Dominga calling for the "light, the light, the +<i>light</i>!" But none was forthcoming; no spark to penetrate an oppressive +darkness—dense and thick as velvet. The train, the flaming engine +approached, was upon them with a roar—the great furnace for a second +illuminated a woman's figure at the gate, standing with extended +arms; then the locomotive thundered by, with its rumbling string of +carriages. The door of one of these stood wide, and in the aperture +appeared the gesticulating form of a man. Another second, and the mail +train for the north had swept by, and Dominga was left behind! For some +time she appeared totally unable to realise this fact and remained +rooted to the spot, staring after the rapidly receding red light with +dazed, incredulous eyes. Meanwhile the syce had darted into the hut and +brought forth a piece of blazing wood. Too late, alas! it was all too +late!</p> + +<p>Suddenly with one wild scream Dominga flung herself face downwards on +the track, and abandoned her soul to an outbreak of passionate Oriental +despair. Truly, she was no Chandos now, this woman who lay in the dust, +beat her head upon the ground and shrieked aloud in piercing Hindustani.</p> + +<p>Zorah stood far off, holding the extinguished lamp, but Verona, who was +nearer, viewed the spectacle with horror. Dominga had gone mad with +grief—could that dreadful, writhing, shrieking thing be her very own +sister?</p> + +<p>By and by the syce approached—next Jaggerie (still groaning and +shaking from the effects of his devilish experience); attention was +diverted, Zorah beckoned, and in another moment was joined by her +fellow conspirator, and together they hurried home, maintaining a +somewhat guilty silence.</p> + +<p>"So you have done it arl-right?" said Nani, as Verona entered.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I am—so sorry now—her grief was awful. Oh, Nani, I feel as +if I had killed Dominga!" and overcome with emotion and excitement, the +girl burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"Pah—pah! no fear you kill Dom! More like she kill <i>you</i>. And what +says your proverb—'A cat has nine lives.'"</p> + +<p>Verona sat up till one o'clock, anxiously listening until she heard the +stealthy return of her sister, and then she at last went to bed, and +fell into an uneasy sleep. The next afternoon Dominga appeared, looking +terribly pale and shattered. Her face was badly cut, her temples +bruised, her lips were lacerated. She was really a startling sight, but +in reply to her mother's anxious questions she replied:</p> + +<p>"I fell in the garden last night—in the dark."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my! it looks more than that—you make so little of your hurts, +Dom. What has happened?"</p> + +<p>"It is as I say," she answered savagely. "Let there be no more talk."</p> + +<p>Later, after the household had retired, Dominga, lamp in hand, came +trailing into Verona's room, and stood and stared at her as she +lay—with glaring, glittering eyes. She seemed to be the incarnation of +some wounded tigress. After an alarmingly long pause—</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> know what it was," she declared in short gasps, "yes, you were +there and stole the light! The syce saw you! Oh, you deceitful devil! +you envied me my love, and so you snatched it away. I know, too, that +it was <i>you</i> who begged Captain Haig to take Jimmy tiger shooting. +Yes, <i>he</i> told Jimmy and Jimmy told me! We both hate you. May you be +accursed! May you go to Hell for ever, and be the prey of serpents. And +accursed you will be—even now—for I shall make your life a torment!"</p> + +<p>Here was indeed the raw stuff of poor human nature illuminated by a +blaze of passion. Dom, with her fierce white face and furious eyes, was +the very embodiment of hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness. Her +lips were quivering and bloodless; she seemed scarcely able to breathe, +and shook with the vehemence of her feelings.</p> + +<p>"Dom, you are talking nonsense," protested her sister. "I did prevent +your running away with Captain Fielder; you will thank me some day—and +I have kept your secret loyally. This sort of affair is hateful to +me—I do assure you."</p> + +<p>Dominga's incredulous laugh was almost like the cry of a hyena.</p> + +<p>"I know that Captain Fielder does not intend to marry you; you see what +his love means! I thought you were proud of being a Chandos. Could you +bear to drag your life out in the gutter?"</p> + +<p>"I could bear to drag out my life, following Jimmy round the world on +my bare knees—I would ask no more; and last night I had not seen him +for six weeks—and I was within three minutes of meeting him—I—who +have been counting the very hours since he left me. And you—you"—she +choked—"oh, I cannot speak! but I could tear you to pieces"; and with +a moan like some wounded animal Dominga staggered from the room.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Whatever Dominga had told her mother, she now evinced to her third +daughter a bitter and invincible animosity—life became almost +insupportable, and the wretched girl's only refuge was either the den +or the dufta.</p> + +<p>"Aha," exclaimed Nani, "it were better to have been advised by me. Dom +avers that you have ravished from her her lover—'The Honourable'—the +lord's son. She hath her mother's ear, and for all your good will, Dom +has set her against you. So you will find, 'that to gain a cat—you +have lost a cow'!"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Were she to live to the age of one hundred years Verona could never +forget that hot weather at Manora—the memory was burnt into her very +soul. It was not merely the absolute desolation of the season, not +only the breathless atmosphere that seemed to quench all vitality, the +endless hours spent in idleness, because the rooms were necessarily +darkened, it was not the maddening "Tonk Tonk" of the coppersmith bird, +the thoughts of her past, the hopelessness of her future, but every +other sensation was dominated by the fact that under the same roof, +in that still, dim bungalow, abode two malignant spirits, whose every +glance and word breathed invincible hatred and ill will.</p> + +<p>These were her mother and Dominga. Since Dominga's elopement had been +so successfully frustrated, she had fallen into a state of lassitude +and lay for hours motionless, and, so to speak, torpid, coiled up with +closed eyes in her long cane chair. When the all too terrible sun had +sunk below the plains across the river, and the soft blue haze of an +Indian evening had taken its place, she would wander alone about the +untidy garden, muttering to herself incessantly (as if rehearsing +some important conversation). She still wrote many letters; these the +Dak runner now no longer carried fearfully through the high elephant +grass, or the thorny Dak bushes of the Terai, but they travelled +in full state on His Majesty's mail tonga, and were delivered by a +postman in orthodox uniform at a certain hill club. The hot weather +had seemingly the power of relaxing the stiff social bonds peculiar to +the cool season. Most women cast aside curling pins and corsets and +wore muslin wrappers, and their hair "plain." Men abandoned formality +with waistcoats and collars, and Mr. Lepell frequently walked over to +smoke a pipe with his sub-manager. On these occasions Mrs. Chandos +never appeared; she was incessantly occupied with business, and besides +this, Tom Lepell was one of the two men in the whole world whom she not +only hated but feared. Mrs. Cavalho constantly trotted across to sit +and gossip with Mrs. Lopez on a little plot of scorched grass in the +garden; here, under the stars which shone between the bare branches of +the cork trees, the two old women talked for hours; talked of their +youth and their good days, before they had become a pair of derelicts +moored beside the Jurra river. Pussy and Verona occasionally joined +them, and listened with unaffected interest to tales of visions, and +warnings, of life, love and death, and many other curious matters. +In the dim, soft light Mistress Cavalho's old face seemed to assume +a different expression—perhaps Youth himself came to her in the +dusk, along with his tender recollections? Her eyes looked large and +brilliant, the lines of her features appeared faultless. She had a +low, sweet voice, and there was something in the personality of Felipa +Cavalho that was inexpressibly soothing and restful.</p> + +<p>Now and then one of the girls wandered alone about the thirsty, +sunburnt garden, accompanied by her own reflections. Pussy's mind was +entirely occupied by Alonzo—when would she meet him? What would he +think of her new yellow hat? and Verona, too, had musings sacred to +her own heart. Her thoughts frequently turned to Salwey, as she paced +the narrow "kunker" paths. She had not seen him for a long time! He +never came up to Manora now! No doubt, he had outgrown his foolish +fancy. After all, was it not precisely what she desired? Yet, even as +Verona assured herself that all was for the best, she was conscious of +an inward pang, and of a half-stifled sigh. She was aware of something +blighting in the atmosphere—an enervating, creeping influence, which +made her feel languid, callous and numb. Was this merely a temporary +lassitude—the effect of the pitiless hot weather? or—horrible +thought!—was it the native element developing in her veins, stealing +into her heart and claiming her for its own at last?</p> + +<p>Occasionally Verona joined her father and Mr. Lepell as they sat and +smoked together on the verandah, but on these occasions Pussy yawned +and went to bed, for she found their conversation much too dull. +Their theme was of the shop—of mango wood fuel, of rab and goor, and +contracts and transport, and new machinery. But Verona, who had not her +sister's easy faculty for sleep, remained languidly interested, and +still more interested when her father asked his guest in a casual tone:</p> + +<p>"By the way, what has become of Salwey? I've not seen him about lately?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he is out in the district; the hot weather is his busy time," was +the reply.</p> + +<p>"Why?" enquired the girl; "I thought during the hot weather everyone +remained at home in a state of torpor."</p> + +<p>"Not every one, especially a police officer," rejoined Mr. Lepell. "The +hot weather is the idle time in this circle. When the crops are cut, +and tillage awaits the rains, people have no occupation; they sit round +the village 'Chabootra' and smoke and talk and quarrel; they brood over +old feuds, they argue over wrestling matches and cock fights and land, +and they kill one another with lathies or reaping hooks. I can assure +you they keep Salwey and his men pretty well on the run. We have four +murderers lying in Rajahpore jail at this moment. I say, young lady, +you are looking pulled down. Why don't you accept my wife's pressing +invitation, and join her in the hills?"</p> + +<p>"If Verona were to see the hills she would never return here," declared +her father with a melancholy smile.</p> + +<p>"It is very kind of Mrs. Lepell to ask me, but the rains may come any +day, Nani says, and it is not worth while to move."</p> + +<p>"There is no sign of the south-west monsoon yet," argued Mr. Lepell, +"with all due deference to Mrs. Lopez. By the way, I often notice your +mother driving to the city at the hottest time of the day. She must be +a veritable salamander!"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, but Abdul Buk is ill, and her tenants are giving her a good +deal of trouble."</p> + +<p>"Aha! you see, the hot weather again! Please God the rains come before +long."</p> + +<p>The rains came at last. For dreary and hopeless months, the country +had lain bare and brown; now, almost in a night, the heat-cracked +plains were clothed with grass, and the fainting trees and plants were +lit up with young leaves; everywhere was the sound of running water! +The ducks quacked triumphantly, as they swam on the former drive; +frogs hopped hilariously about the verandah, and even invaded the +bedrooms, whilst their relations in the marshes made an uproar that +murdered sleep! Jurra river, flooded to the brim, brought down on its +breast all manner of strange things, including stranded, sand-embedded +charpoys, that had been the last resting-place of corpses—for Jurra +was a holy river—and Verona and Pussy, who had languidly rowed about +its shrunken, hot-weather dimensions, now went farther than before. +One evening as the two girls were passing below the little white house +where the police wallah lived, they descried him and his dog "Chum" +sitting together in the verandah.</p> + +<p>He signalled to them immediately, and came running down the steep steps +which led through the garden to the water's edge.</p> + +<p>"Hullo! So you are back," called Pussy from her nest among red cushions +in the stern.</p> + +<p>"Yes; how are you?" But as he spoke, he looked at Verona. "The weather +is getting a little cooler."</p> + +<p>"It is not particularly cool yet," she replied, resting on her oars and +raising a colourless face.</p> + +<p>"Won't you come up and see my diggings, and have some iced lemonade or +tea?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, do let's go, Rona?" pleaded Pussy, with outstretched fingers, +every joint of which was eloquent. "I've often been."</p> + +<p>"Yes, come along," he urged, fastening the boat; and he held out his +hand to Pussy, who sprang ashore with alacrity, saying:</p> + +<p>"I know my way! I'll go to old Jaloo, and tell him to get ready the +lemonade and cake. Oh, I must have some cake," and she bustled up the +steps, and disappeared among the orange and apricot trees.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," said Verona, looking at Salwey's still extended hand; +"I prefer to wait, like the train—ten minutes for refreshments."</p> + +<p>"You mean to say you won't honour my poor abode! I'd like to show you +my photographs of home, and some books, and odd things I've picked up +in the district."</p> + +<p>"I'll come another time, but I'm a little tired. I don't think I could +face your hill."</p> + +<p>"I must say you look completely played out; you ought to have gone to +Aunt Lizzie. I say, I shall row you back."</p> + +<p>As he spoke he stepped into the boat, closely attended by "Chum," and +motioned her to the place recently occupied by her lazy sister.</p> + +<p>"But what about Pussy?" she asked with a faint smile, as she arranged +the cushions and leant back with a sense of well-earned repose.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Pussy is all right. She and old Jaloo are tremendous pals. She was +often here—with Nicky."</p> + +<p>Verona inclined her head.</p> + +<p>"Miss Chandos, this is a lucky chance!" he resumed. "I wanted to see +you alone."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" and she coloured faintly.</p> + +<p>"I have found out about the robbery and how it was effected. I've not +been away all the time, though my house has been closed. I came back to +see what the mice were doing!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I—understand." She smiled as she added, "What an artful cat!"</p> + +<p>"One morning I went up early to the dufta and examined the walls more +minutely. I detected the marks of bare feet; it was evident that the +thief—a very thin man—climbed on the shoulders of a tall confederate, +and squeezed himself through the window, which, as you know, is high, +then cut a board out of the press and looted the jewels; the traces +of the foot-prints are faint, but I have made out that one foot lacks +a toe. Now, it happens that Abdul Buk's eldest son is as lean as a +herring, and has lost one toe in an—adventure. It was he who offered +your ring for sale; his family believe him to be in Fyzabad, but he is +really in Delhi jail. At first he swore that your mother had given him +the ring as a bribe. Now, solitary confinement, low diet, the loss of +his smoke and a wholesome fear of the law, have changed his tune!"</p> + +<p>"And what have you discovered?"</p> + +<p>"We have discovered much. For instance, that Abdul Buk—the benevolent, +the collector of cantonment house rents, the dispenser of promises, the +ladies' praised and petted Abdul—'dear old Abdul'—is nothing more or +less than a receiver of stolen goods!"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense—that respectable old man!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and he does business on a large scale, though he takes good care +never to put his own paw into the fire. I believe I have got him at +last! Little does he suspect that he is sitting on a mine, and that the +match is in my hands——"</p> + +<p>"And when will you apply it?"</p> + +<p>"Immediately. I have some slight reason to suspect that he is one of +the agents of the notorious Saloo. If I can only bag the <i>two</i> with one +charge, won't it be splendid?"</p> + +<p>"Splendid indeed; you will have gained your heart's desire, and I shall +congratulate you most sincerely."</p> + +<p>"I should be glad if I could catch Saloo, but the feat is not +exactly"—a pause—"my heart's desire! Saloo's identity is a dead +secret; he is an old fox. I've heard that he is a marwarri down Poonah +way, but this is not confirmed. Saloo has hitherto baffled every effort +to trace him."</p> + +<p>"If you were to consult my grandmother, she would advise you to look in +the ink pool!"</p> + +<p>"No doubt!" rejoined Salwey, with a short laugh. "Have you ever seen +her appeal to it?"</p> + +<p>"No; but she believes in it implicitly. It is magic, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"And black magic at that. I am myself orthodox, but I must admit that I +have witnessed some extraordinary and utterly unaccountable things out +here in the far East——"</p> + +<p>"Tell me, please, about the ink pool!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, when a native wants to find out something, he gets hold of +a small boy, bribes him with promises, takes him to some quiet spot, +pours ink into the palm of his hand and commands him to look, and to +report what he sees!"</p> + +<p>"Yes——"</p> + +<p>"The seer is supposed to describe some remarkable scenes. One of my +constables consulted the oracle with respect to Saloo. Personally and +officially I am not supposed to countenance such—irregularities."</p> + +<p>"No, but you heard the result," said the young lady, with an air of +conviction. "What did the child see? What did he say?"</p> + +<p>"He said he saw Saloo—and that Saloo was a woman!"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Verona, suddenly sitting erect. "Now that is too +ridiculous; no woman could be so crafty—or so—wicked."</p> + +<p>"Many women are both."</p> + +<p>"You speak from experience——?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank God; I know little about them!"</p> + +<p>For a moment there was an absolute silence, merely broken by the soft +lapping of the water against the sides of the old boat. Salwey looked +at his companion as she reclined among the cushions; her home life was +telling upon her, the East was stealing her rare beauty, her face was +colourless, the exquisite outlines of cheek and throat were emaciated, +and the brilliant eyes looked lack-lustre and spiritless.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," she began suddenly, "is it only children who see things in +the ink pool?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Only children!"</p> + +<p>"But why?"</p> + +<p>"They are supposed to be endowed with some ethereal gift, which remains +with them until their hearts are touched, their emotions awake; then +it leaves them—the power is lost—the door, as they say out here, is +shut."</p> + +<p>"What a pity! I wonder if I am too old to look into the ink pool?"</p> + +<p>"You have never, I infer, cared two straws for any one?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head—slowly—and as she did so the truth came to her in +one dazzling flash—she cared for <i>him</i>! He had touched her heart. It +was amazing to discover that of all her suitors, with their advantages +of social status, wealth, surroundings, the only one who had aroused +her interest was this Indian police officer, who sat there within a +few yards, bareheaded, grave-eyed, with his arms resting on the oars. +It was true that he was poor; a miserable "parti" from a worldly point +of view, but he was a strong man!—a strong man, armed with many fine +qualities, who had entered her heart and closed the door on all others. +Were she still Verona—the heiress—she would gladly be his wife, but +as Verona—the Eurasian—she must keep her secret from him and all. But +oh, what a temptation! To go away from Manora, to forget—to go with +Brian, who loved her—for her own sake——!</p> + +<p>No, no, no; for his own sake she would never marry Brian Salwey.</p> + +<p>As the lady's reply was a suspiciously long time in coming, her +companion said:</p> + +<p>"Besides, you are disqualified! If you have never loved—many have +loved you!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she asked. "How can—you know? At home——"</p> + +<p>"At home I imagine your conquests were Legion. Out here—there is Haig."</p> + +<p>"No, no," she protested; "he does not care; he cannot forgive my birth. +Once he volunteered to be my champion—there is an end of all that."</p> + +<p>"Well then, there is myself," was Salwey's bold announcement. +"I—whatever comes or goes—will wear your colours to the end of my +life, between my heart and armour! Accept me—as your knight?"</p> + +<p>And "Chum," the dog, leaning his muzzle over his master's arm, seemed +to second the proposal.</p> + +<p>Verona looked down and slowly shook her head; never had she felt so +miserable. She seemed to see the panorama of her future, the absolute +weariness, and absence of interest from her life. And yet it must be +so! Then, with a sudden movement, she raised her face, and confronted +her companion. Hard work and the hot weather had told upon him also. +There was not an ounce of superfluous flesh upon his figure, the keen +blue eyes were sunken and his jaw bone was squarely prominent.</p> + +<p>"You must wear the colours of some other lady," she said in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"No," he answered resolutely; "yours only—till I die; I will never +give you up."</p> + +<p>"See, I have brought you some lemonade, you lazy people!" said a voice +behind Salwey. And there was Pussy, her face wreathed with smiles, her +hands full of cake, and Salwey's vain old bearer—his venerable beard +dyed red—standing beside her with a little tray and two tumblers of +liquid in which tinkled blocks of ice. Salwey rose at once, and handed +one of these to Verona, and took the other himself.</p> + +<p>"I wish your enterprise success," said the girl, as she smiled at him +gravely before drinking.</p> + +<p>"To my heart's desire," he replied with significance, as he pledged her +with a bow, and tossed off the contents of the glass.</p> + +<p>"Now, I am going to row you back," he said, turning to Pussy, "if you +will get in, and sit here beside your sister."</p> + +<p>"O—ah! how nice! O—ah! I do love being rowed—it is such hard work—I +do hate it!"</p> + +<p>In a few minutes the trio had floated off, leaving Jaloo, the red +bearded, with his spotless coat and pointed leather shoes, standing, +tray in hand, watching their progress with eyes of grim disapproval.</p> + +<p>There was the boat moving slowly up the surface of the broad, shining +river, now swollen far above its usual limits, its brimming waters +almost on a level with the plains; in the prow sat a white dog, in +the stern two dark-haired girls in white; in the midst his master, +bareheaded, rowing against the current with long, easy strokes. A rainy +season sunset lit up the scene with a magnificent blaze of crimson and +orange; the combined brilliance cast a dazzling glamour over the water, +and the figures in the boat seemed transmuted to gold.</p> + +<p>"What a fool was his master!" grunted Jaloo, as he stood gazing; "was +he not well enough, and yet he would surely marry one of those women, +doubtless the girl with the proud eyes, whom they in the bazaar called +the 'Belait' (Europe) Missy." With this conviction he turned his back +on the receding bank, and proceeded to toil up to the bungalow with his +tray of jingling glasses, grunting and grumbling all the way.</p> + +<p>"I do believe it was you who sent us all the books and mangoes this +hot season," said Pussy; "now, was it not, Mr. Salwey? Mother thought +they came from some of Dom's friends. Oh, the mangoes were so good and +juicy. I loved them—but Verona loved the books."</p> + +<p>"I am glad you were both pleased," rejoined Salwey with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Dom doesn't read now, nor Mother; she is so busy at her own books, +since Abdul Buk has a boil on his neck. Oh, goody me! she does work. +All day long and half the night."</p> + +<p>"At books? Do you mean that your mother writes?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, no; only in account books—about her propertee—and she has +such piles of them! I saw them," giggled Pussy; "I peeped into the +office the other day, when she was with Nani. My, such books! all +ruled, like a draught board. Such rows and rows of figures!"</p> + +<p>"Surely you must be making a mistake?" and Salwey paused abruptly, +resting on his oars, and contemplated Pussy with a glint of steel in +his blue eyes, "only one class keeps accounts that way."</p> + +<p>"But no, no, no; I am quite certain," she giggled. "I thought it +awfully queer—and what class do keep such funny books?"</p> + +<p>"Money-lenders," was his curt reply.</p> + +<p>"Mother is so fond of figures—oh, so mad about them. Perhaps," still +giggling, "she is playing at being a soucar."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps; but she never struck me as a likely person to play—at +anything!"</p> + +<p>Oh, Pussy, Pussy! what a gigantic cat you have suffered to escape +through your imprudence! You have aroused the dawn of a suspicion in +your boatman's shrewd mind!</p> + +<p>The golden light disappeared with the rude abruptness of an Eastern +sunset; then came the changing touch in the air, the smell of rank +water plants, the flip of a bat's wing; a silence and gloom which had +fallen on the landscape was shared, for some inexplicable reason, by +the little party in the boat.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Two evenings after this boating party Mr. Lepell and his nephew had +a long interview with Mr. Chandos, who heard with astonishment that +in Abdul Buk's house in the bazaar part of his daughter's jewellery +had been recovered. That Abdul Buk's money ledgers had been examined, +and he stood exposed as a cheat, a swindler, and a thief. He was a +true wolf in sheep's clothing, who had contrived to pass himself off +as an inoffensive, if somewhat garrulous, old man. Terrified by his +situation, Abdul had turned King's evidence, and had confessed all, and +figuratively given away his employer. His employer—incredible as it +seemed—was Mrs. Chandos.</p> + +<p>It was she, who for twenty long years had been the chief usurer in +Rajahpore; she it was, who had lent money, taken bonds, charged huge +interest, extorted pitilessly, ground down the faces of the poor, and +was very wealthy. It seemed inconceivable, but it was proved beyond +doubt that Rosa Chandos was no other than the notorious "Saloo." Her +husband lived too much with his splendid dreams, his books, and his +opium (alas! for those little black pills), to realise who Saloo was; +for, as he had repeatedly assured Mr. Lepell, he had nothing to do +with soucars now. His monthly salary he handed to his wife; and Rosa, +his wife, was a notorious usurer! At first he declared that it was +impossible—for one thing, she had no capital.</p> + +<p>"She had a large amount of capital, secured in her mother's name, in +the Bank of Bengal, as well as shares in half the good things in India. +She had impressed deeds and papers which did not belong to her, and +she must relinquish them at once, or her office would be searched. We +will wait here, Chandos," said Mr. Lepell, "and you can talk to your +wife about it. These papers are the property of zemindars, her debtors; +she has come by them illegally. If they are not given up, there will +be a row. Salwey and I wish to manage this thing quietly, for the sake +of you and your family, and that is one reason why Brian rode out here +before dark and came first to me, so as to disarm any notice; but he +has a search warrant in his pocket."</p> + +<p>"God knows, I have gone through many things in my life," declared Mr. +Chandos, with dignity, "and I have been brought low in the world; my +wife has her faults, but she is no money-lender, that is certain."</p> + +<p>It was also certain that Mrs. Chandos happened to be in a peculiarly +bad temper that evening; she had had a quarrel with Dominga; and +although she adored Dom, they had their little differences.</p> + +<p>Dom was the only creature who dared to withstand her mother, and their +disputes were terrible. Beginning in the ordinary every-day English +tongue, as the altercation waxed in fury, they passed into shrill +Hindustani, from that to "Gali" (abuse), and to hear the pair when the +battle was raging an outsider would have supposed them to be a couple +of mad grass cutters! Mrs. Chandos was walking about the dining-room in +a highly-strung condition, when her breath was almost taken away by her +husband entering the room and demanding "the keys of her office!"</p> + +<p>At such an impudent request, she simply laughed in his face.</p> + +<p>"Give them at once, Rosa," he said, with astonishing decision, "and +clear your character; there are terrible charges against you. If +what the police say is true, you have covered us all with shame and +disgrace."</p> + +<p>For a moment Mrs. Chandos was too paralysed to speak, but she speedily +found her tongue, and overwhelmed her husband with such a torrent of +wild, shrieking abuse, that she literally drove the poor man before +her, backing him down the verandah steps into his own sanctum. +Then turning swiftly about, she found herself face to face with +Salwey—Salwey, in full official dress (a khaki uniform, with narrow +red collar, spurred boots, and cord breeches).</p> + +<p>"The keys of your office, if you please," he said, holding out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Get out of my house," she screamed. "Get away!"</p> + +<p>"The keys of your office," he repeated, with the utmost composure, "I +do not wish to proceed to extreme measures, but I have a search warrant +here, and I will break open the door."</p> + +<p>"What do you want, you thief! you beast! you spy!"</p> + +<p>"Stolen bonds and documents which I've every reason to believe are +in your possession. The keys!" He spoke with an air of decision and +command.</p> + +<p>The keys were not to be had, and to the astonishment of the peeping +servants, the door of the dufta was taken off its hinges and Mr. +Lepell and Salwey entered in the wake of two men in blue coats and red +turbans—in other words, constables. The desk was opened, also the +press. These did not yield much, but thanks to a hint from Abdul Buk, +the rug was lifted, and the trap door laid bare. Everything necessary +to incriminate Mrs. Chandos was found in this secret hiding-place. +Their owner looked on in silence, but her pocket handkerchief was torn +into rags, and in her eyes sat two devils. The bulk of the papers were +carried into Mr. Chandos' smoking-room, and subsequently examined at +leisure.</p> + +<p>Yes, these were the books of "Saloo"; there were her webs, there were +her flies. There were receipts, there were letters from Abdul Buk, +replying to certain instructions; there were bags of rupees and notes, +the ledgers disclosed receipts for very large sums invested in various +ways. Mrs. Chandos had followed her effects with hysterical screams, +precisely like some bird of prey whose nest had been robbed! Finally, +she stood in the middle of the room, unashamed, furious—and at bay. +Mr. Lepell, Salwey, Dominga and Verona were present, as well as poor +old Mrs. Lopez, who cowered in a corner muttering to herself and +weeping audibly.</p> + +<p>When these proofs of guilt and rapacity, cruelty and avarice had been +exposed, Mr. Chandos turned to his wife, and said in a shaky voice:</p> + +<p>"So, for twenty years you have secretly carried on your father's trade. +Whilst your children have lacked education and common necessaries, you +have hoarded money and been the ruin of hundreds. And I thought, till +to-day, that I was beyond the reach of shame! I thought that after long +penance I might once more venture out and face the world. My cousin +is dead and, as Mr. Lepell is aware, I have been summoned to England +to take up my place there as head of the family. Since Nicky is gone, +there is no heir to come after me; but for the sake of my girls I had +almost decided to claim my own. This," turning fiercely on her, "I will +never do now. Do you suppose I will put such a woman as <i>you</i> in my +aunt's place? No, I will let my name be called across the seas in vain. +I will live and die out here—an obscure Anglo-Indian."</p> + +<p>At the name of Charne, and the news of her husband's succession to the +property, Mrs. Chandos' face changed, her eyes lit up like beacons.</p> + +<p>"Bah! you old guddah!" she cried, "these men have stuffed your head +with silly nonsense; if I did take interest, what harm? I traded with +my own money. As to Charne—since you are hanging back, <i>I</i> will go to +England, and claim it <i>for</i> you."</p> + +<p>From many years of terrible experience her husband knew that she +invariably carried out her threats, and in a sudden transport of fear +and fury he snatched the picture of Charne off the wall, smashed the +glass, and destroyed the sketch.</p> + +<p>"Idiot!" jeered his wife, "you will be sorry for that to-morrow. You +have broken your fetish!"</p> + +<p>"And these papers," he said, dragging a packet from a drawer, "are the +proofs of my identity." He held them towards his wife, and then with a +sudden, furious energy, tore them into shreds, and scattered them over +the floor.</p> + +<p>"Charne is only mine for life," he gasped breathlessly, "the place is +strictly entailed. For the rest of my days I live here—because of +<i>you</i>. I am sorry for the girls; and of all my children, I am most +sorry for Verona."</p> + +<p>"Verona!" interrupted Mrs. Chandos, at last finding her voice; her face +was working and livid with fury. "You throw away your great estate to +punish <i>me</i>! Oh, ho! Well, now! see—I will punish you!"</p> + +<p>She glared at her husband, as if she was going to fly at his throat; +then she drew one long breath, and announced with grim composure:</p> + +<p>"Verona is not our daughter."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL</h2> +</div> + + +<p>"Oh, ho! yes, it is true what I say," continued Mrs. Chandos, breaking +a dead, incredulous silence; "she is no more to us than this book," and +she seized a copy of "The Newcomes" and pitched it across the room.</p> + +<p>"Aré, it is a relief to my heart to speak and to get rid of her," and +she turned and looked at Verona; "for ever since I had aught to do with +that girl she has been my thorn and curse."</p> + +<p>"You are beside yourself, Mrs. Chandos," protested Mr. Lepell, "all +this excitement is too much for you. Mrs. Lopez, will you not take your +daughter away and persuade her to lie down?"</p> + +<p>"Cha-a-ah! I am not beside myself," screamed the fury with a stamp, +"and if you will listen—all of you—you shall hear the true story." As +she spoke, she flung herself panting into a chair.</p> + +<p>"Oh! it is more than twenty-six years ago since I married that oloo" +(owl), and she indicated Mr. Chandos as she spoke and stared back +deliberately into every gazing face. "Oh, he was so lazy! We lived up +in the hills at first—and he used to just loaf and shoot; one cannot +pay bazaar on that. We had two children, Blanche and Pussy; they +were—not fair, no, and I could see that he was awfully disappointed. +Money was low just before our third child was expected, and so he went +down to the plains to seek for an appointment. The baby, a little girl, +was born at Murree. She was very dark—once again—<i>so</i> dark! I knew +you would be very vexed," turning on him; "you were always hoping for a +fair baby—that would be a true Chandos."</p> + +<p>Mr. Chandos endeavoured to interrupt, but she silenced him with a wild +gesture of her hand. "No, no, no! Wait! wait! wait! I will not be long. +In the little bungalow next to mine was a pretty young English girl, +an officer's wife; she had a baby and she died, but her baby lived. I +lived—my baby died. You begin to see. Eh?" She paused and gazed about +her. Her audience were now dumb.</p> + +<p>"Her husband, a young artillery officer, was crazy with grief. Aré, it +was bad! They were not long out from home, and seemed friendless. He +was going to Afghanistan immediately on active service; our bungalows +were in the same compound, and so he came to me, and he said:</p> + +<p>"'Look here, I believe you are an officer's wife, and have just lost +your baby; will you take my poor little one, like a good, Christian +woman, and be a mother to her till I come back? I have eight hundred +pounds in the Bank of Bombay. I shall make a will; if anything should +happen to me it will go to you altogether, if you will undertake to +provide for the child.' Well, he was so awfully handsome, and in such +awful trouble, and the baby was so pretty and so fair, I, like a fool, +agreed! His name was Hargreaves—Eliot Hargreaves—and his wife had +run away with him. She was engaged to someone at home—oh, a grand +match—but she preferred the poor young officer, and eloped with him +to India. She was an earl's daughter. Her name was Lady Vera Bourne; +the child was called after her, but I named her Veronica. Of course, +I heard all about this runaway match from the ayah—and that both the +families were so angry; the couple were in great disgrace, and got no +letters, and they were very, very poor. They lived in quite a cheap +little bungalow, not much better than mine. Three weeks after Mr. +Hargreaves marched with his battery he was killed at Maiwand; so I +claimed the money which he had left me, and passed off the child as my +own. No one knew the truth except two ayahs, also a native apothecary +and a native pleader, who got me the money. When my husband saw the +child she was three months old; and oh he was <i>so</i> pleased with the +little fair Chandos!"</p> + +<p>Here the narrator paused for a moment, closed her eyes, shook her head, +and laughed with shrill derision.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, she was a pretty baby! she used to be called the little +'Rani'; when she was two years old, Fernande Godez came to see my +mother, took a fancy to the child, and offered to adopt her. Well, then +I was in great luck and got her off my hands. She goes to England with +her, and was brought up really like a little princess. But at the end +of twenty years, back she comes—there she is," gesticulating with a +tremulous hand. "From first to last, as I said before, she has been my +curse. With the money her father left me I began my banking business; +I could never have done so otherwise; and according to all of you I +have been awfully wicked! Well! it was <i>her</i> money that tempted me! +As for herself, she comes here, and has stolen from me the affection +of my husband, of my daughter"—pointing to Pussy—"of my poor son +Nicky, and even"—indicating Mrs. Lopez—"my mother! It was owing to +her that Salwey has always been coming about Manora. It was owing to +her jewels, which I showed to Abdul Buk, that the poor man was tempted, +and he has been shamed and put in gaol. Vera Hargreaves"—pointing +to Verona—"you have nothing to do with us, and so you go out of this +house." She pointed to the door. "Good-a-bye!"</p> + +<p>"But what proof have you of this extraordinary story?" demanded Mr. +Lepell, who seemed to be the only person who had retained his wits.</p> + +<p>"Oh, plenty of proof! The old apothecary at Murree is still alive, and +will bear out my tale about Lady Vera. The chaplain who christened the +baby when she was but three days old can speak, and the name of Vera +Hargreaves will be in the church register. Besides, I have a photograph +of her mother which the ayah gave me. I have a letter from young +Hargreaves after he left Murree, and a little card-case and a book with +a crest inside. I don't know why I kept these things, I am sure, but +since the girl came out I have felt certain that this blow-up would +have to happen some day—and here it is!"</p> + +<p>The confession was evidently a dreadful shock to Mr. Chandos; the fire +of his indignation had died down; he sat crouched up in his chair in +a condition of mental and physical collapse. Verona had been with him +less than twelve months, and yet she was far dearer to him than any of +his children. The blow seemed to have broken his heart; he gazed at +the girl, his face working, his eyes dim with pain, and held out his +trembling hands.</p> + +<p>She went over to him, looking very white, and said:</p> + +<p>"I cannot realize this news, it seems incredible; I am most +unfortunate—I seem to belong to no one."</p> + +<p>(Whilst she was speaking, Mrs. Chandos had risen and rushed out of the +room, and in another moment she might be heard uttering shriek after +shriek, and indulging in a terrible attack of her screaming hysterics.)</p> + +<p>"I shall always think of you as my father, though I suppose I shall +have to go away. I daresay kind Mrs. Cavalho will take me in for a few +days?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Verona!" and Pussy rose and threw her arms round her. "You cannot +leave <i>me</i>! you must not leave us! you must not! you must not! I cannot +live without you—it will kill me! You shall not stir, for I shall +die!" and she burst into a flood of tears.</p> + +<p>"The best thing to be done," said Mr. Lepell, "is for you to go up to +Lizzie; I suppose you can remain here for the night, and I will take +you to Naini Tal myself to-morrow."</p> + +<p>All this time Salwey had remained in the background, listening to +Mrs. Chandos' wild confession. He now came forward and made a rather +important statement: "You remember the lady who sat opposite us at the +ball supper, Miss Chandos—Lady Ida Eustace. Her sister, Lady Vera, +married a Mr. Hargreaves. It is quite true that it was a runaway match, +and all the family were implacable until poor Lady Vera died in India, +and then she was forgiven. It was a tragic story. I remember hearing +of it as a boy—of beautiful Lady Vera, and how her husband was killed +three weeks after her death. The baby, it seems, did not die after all; +Lady Ida, you see, is your own aunt, so you are not entirely without +someone belonging to you. Well, now, I think," taking his uncle's arm, +"we had better go away; you have to make your arrangements for an early +start to-morrow."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The days which followed her momentous confession were passed by Mrs. +Chandos in the darkness and seclusion of her own room (and on the +bungalow there fell a sense of extraordinary peace). Here she gave +audience to her mother and to Verona. Sitting in that dim apartment, +watched by a pair of implacable black eyes, Verona heard the details +of her parentage and infancy. Mrs. Chandos rendered up to her the +letters, photograph and proofs, which established her as the child of +another race. She also urged her to remain with them until Mrs. Lepell +came down from the hills. In Manora nothing of importance was ever +undertaken without the help or countenance of the reigning lady; and +if Verona went away suddenly, there would be—oh, such talk! Verona, +whose affection for Mr. Chandos, Pussy and Nani, was very real and +warm, agreed to remain as a member of the household until arrangements +were completed for her return to England; and in those critical days +Verona's manner was a beautiful study in tact and forbearance. The +news that she was only a child by adoption, and that her name was +Hargreaves, was allowed to gradually ooze out to the ears of the +neighbours, who had been secretly wondering what all the smothered fuss +had been about; and what was the cause of so many letters and telegrams +being delivered at the Chandos bungalow?</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lepell had telegraphed and written to Verona, urging her to join +her—she was not strong, and to descend to the plains in the rainy +season was impossible. In October or November she was going to England +and could escort her friend home. But Mr. Chandos clung to Verona in a +way that was pathetic; Nani and Pussy bewailed her suggested departure +so loudly and so continuously, that she decided to remain in Manora for +the present.</p> + +<p>The Trotters and Watkins were aware that a great stirring of the waters +had recently taken place in their vicinity; they were acquainted with +the tale of the adopted daughter—but they did not know all. Much was +known in the bazaar, but not elsewhere—when the station has one topic, +the bazaar has a dozen. Even the bazaar could not guess why Salwey +Sahib was staying at the big bungalow—instead of at home; nor did it +know that for hours he was closeted in the dufta with Mrs. Chandos. +Brian Salwey had discovered Saloo, after much toilsome search, and +yet now he was anxious to hush up her identity, and to conceal her +iniquities. With this sole end in view, this truly brave man passed +whole mornings alone with Mrs. Chandos and her ledgers. He, too, had +a capital head for figures, and went systematically through all her +books, and discovered that although morally a culprit of the blackest +dye, yet she just managed to keep herself clear of the sword of +Justice. There is no law to prevent people paying (and they will) one +hundred per cent. But Salwey was strong and resolute; piece by piece he +wrenched her prey from the clutches of Saloo. In spite of her shrill +expostulations during those long early hours, mortgages were remitted, +claims were abated, restitution was made; The process was almost like +dragging a calf from a famished tigress, but it was accomplished +with inexorable determination. Mrs. Chandos's usual weapons, such as +imprecations, abuse, personal insults, and piercing screams, might +just as well have been addressed to a stone as to the figure who was +steadily working through her accounts. Such an attitude amazed her; +she had struck terror to the hearts of her father and her husband—but +this calm, austere young man, he frightened her. Day by day she saw her +balance ebbing—day by day she restored sums of money to those she had +despoiled. She was compelled to sign orders, and letters, and receipts, +that made her writhe with impotent rage. Once, in an early stage of the +proceedings, she had rebelled and shrieked out:</p> + +<p>"Why should I permit this robbery? I will not—I defy you! What can you +do to me?"</p> + +<p>"I can acquaint the world with your identity—and cover your family +with shame."</p> + +<p>"Cha-a-ah! I care not!" she screamed, "who hath money, hath many +friends!"</p> + +<p>"Also," he continued gravely, "it will cost you your life!"</p> + +<p>"Am I a fool?"</p> + +<p>"No, and therefore you will comprehend that your enemies are legion; +you have been the cause of much suffering, and even of death; you will +not keep your gain and go free."</p> + +<p>"What! do you threaten?" she yelled.</p> + +<p>"I believe I can protect you from ambush and assassination, but here +poison is a fine art; all who know of her, spit upon the name of +Saloo, and whoever rids the world of Saloo, would be well thought of +by his fellows. Your days would be numbered—worth about a month's +purchase—you must buy your life!"</p> + +<p>"Buy it, of you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, in a way—for I am shielding you. Were I to transfer this +frightful business to others"—here he struck the ledger before +him—"and it is the work of several men—would they be silent?"</p> + +<p>She was dumb.</p> + +<p>Like all bullies, Saloo was an arrant coward. Moreover, she had no wish +to die—as a girl, she had seen one case of poisoning, and it sufficed. +Therefore, she succumbed, though her voice still rose loud and shrill; +and over each payment there was a protracted struggle.</p> + +<p>Occasionally as Verona sat with her late grandmother, she could hear +the low growl of a man, and then a high prolonged reply. One day, +as she was arranging Nani's knitting—she now aspired to socks—the +ventilator between the two rooms, which was always shut fast, suddenly +fell open, and a torrent of shrill and distinct abuse instantly flooded +the room.</p> + +<p>"What, all this trouble and toil for Chandos, and to save him, and his +good name—'tis a lie, you do it for that girl! Bah, you love her! Now +she is a great lady, do you think she would look at such as you—a pig +of a police wallah—I know her sort."</p> + +<p>Verona rose, and hurried over to close the ventilator, and as she +reached vainly for the cord, she heard:</p> + +<p>"Come, now, Mrs. Chandos, don't excite yourself. Let us stick to +business."</p> + +<p>"But you know Verona will go to England, and never think of you again. +Eh, <i>speak</i>? Say you know!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," came the reply, "now be good enough to sign here." And +at this instant Verona, with a brilliant colour in her face, succeeded +in reaching the cord, and violently slamming the little shutter. So now +she understood why Mr. Salwey had seemed so determined to avoid her. +Why he scarcely spoke when they met to the grand-daughter of the Earl +of Sombourne, though formerly he had been on the best of terms with the +granddaughter of Nani Lopez! He accepted the change in her fortune like +a stoic, and had tacitly and resolutely relinquished her! She almost +wished she were once more a humble Eurasian—the <i>protégée</i> of his Aunt +Liz.</p> + +<p>During these last weeks, those tedious trying weeks at the end of +the rains, Mr. Chandos had been ailing, and the thought of losing +Verona filled him with despair. He could not endure the mention of +her departure, although he knew that she must soon be restored to her +relations, and the Melvilles, who had written out to claim her; Verona +divided her time between Mrs. Lopez in the mornings, and Mr. Chandos +in the evenings; she read to him, talked to him, cheered him, and had +almost persuaded him to return to England with her and see his beloved +Charne.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I really think I would die happy, if I could behold it once +more," he exclaimed; "people change—but places do not."</p> + +<p>"Then you will come home with me," she urged, "yes, in the same ship. +What a good time we shall have together; the sea voyage will set you +up! There is nothing like the sea."</p> + +<p>"Ah," he said, "I've no doubt it would; but what am I to do with +<i>them</i>? They could never go home. Imagine my wife in county society—as +Mrs. Chandos of Charne."</p> + +<p>"I am now going to ask you what I have never dared to do before. Would +you mind telling me why you married Mrs. Chandos?"</p> + +<p>"I married her," he answered, "chiefly to pay my cousin's debts. He +was deeply involved in her father's books. I had backed his bills; he +deserted me and went home; I remained to face dishonour. Miss Lopez, +the money-lender's daughter, was good enough to like me. Her father +offered to release me, if I would make her my wife, and I did"—here +an involuntary sigh escaped him—"for between that and ruin I had no +alternative. Pussy is a good girl; you will be kind to her, I know; +somehow I don't think you and Dominga ever had much in common. Your +aunt has written out for you, I saw her last letter and telegram—what +date does she name?"</p> + +<p>"The fifteenth of October, but I can put it off; I will wait until you +feel ready to come home. Even if you do return here—surely you should +see Charne? Yes, and show it to <i>me</i>, and wind up all your affairs."</p> + +<p>"I will think it over, Verona; somehow when you talk to me, I feel +inspired with hope and courage. I have not been home for twenty-nine +years—to return has always been my dream! Well, my dear, I will sleep +on your advice!"</p> + +<p>The next morning a servant coming in early to sweep and dust the room, +discovered his master still sitting in his arm-chair—asleep, with a +beautiful smile upon his face—the smile of one who was happy. Mindoo +had never yet seen the Sahib's expression so serene. But why was he so +still—so quiet?</p> + +<p>The question was readily answered—Mr. Chandos had gone home.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The difficulties in the path of his true love had but increased Jimmy +Fielder's interest in Dominga—now that Dom was unattainable, she +appeared to be almost indispensable to his happiness. He had been bored +to death in the Terai, and bitten by the most ferocious of insects, +grilled alive and half starved, all for one mangy tiger skin! He had +been equally bored on a hill station; none of the girls were half as +amusing as Dom—poor Dom, who was breaking her heart for him on the dim +blue plains far below. Now and then he strolled to a certain point and +gazed down, and thought of that sparkling face, those ruddy locks, +that lithe form and nimble tongue—the recollection of those days was +still sharp and vivid. Then came an unexpected summons home, which +blurred the vision. His father had tendered the olive branch and a +handsome cheque; Lord Highstreet was failing fast, and his son, for +his part, was now thoroughly sick of India. Captain Fielder hurried +to Rajahpore in order to settle up, collect his belongings and say +good-bye to the regiment and the Service. He must also say good-bye +to Dom! She had made the memory of his stay on the plains a joy for +ever, and he would send her a jolly present from Streeter's, as soon +as he got home. Of course he had heard of the death of Mr. Chandos, +and he was aware that the family had been in some mysterious trouble; +the victoria, full of gay cushions, no longer waited under a certain +tree near the club, nor were there any more letters to be found in "Two +Kisses."</p> + +<p>Captain Fielder had already secured his passage and paid his farewell +calls; the station was almost empty, the ladies were in the hills. He +was an idle man, and Fate finds some mischief still for idle men to do! +Inspired by Fate, he made up his mind to drive out to Manora, in broad +daylight, and interview Dom, and see if his memory had not flattered +her too much.</p> + +<p>Captain Fielder was ushered into the drawing-room, and then in +another moment she had flown to him, gasping and sobbing with joy and +astonishment. She clung to his neck, her sweet breath (a peculiarity of +Eurasians) fanning his cheek, her glorious hair falling back, her eyes +gazing into his own. He succumbed at once to her spell, her wonderful +seduction—her, for him, fearful fascination. Oh, why was she not a +lady? and one he could marry and take home, for Dom was so entirely to +his taste; ever the same, yet never boring him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, why should he not please himself, why? why?" he mentally exclaimed +with impotent fury.</p> + +<p>"Oh, ho! So you are the beast that has broken my daughter's heart," +cried a shrill voice, and Mrs. Chandos, in funereal weeds, darted into +the room. "It is well poor Chandos is dead, and does not know of your +wickedness!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Madam?" he demanded, now releasing Dom, and boldly +facing his assailant.</p> + +<p>"That you wanted her to run away with you. Oh, yes, we arl know <i>that</i>, +and now you are coming to say good-bye, and thank you very much, before +you go to England."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he is not going to England!" screamed Dominga, seizing him by the +arm, whilst her face assumed a sudden pallor, and her nostrils quivered +nervously.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is; he goes in the <i>Persia</i>, on the fourth," said her mother. +"Is it not so?" and she flashed on him a look of fury.</p> + +<p>Jimmy nodded his head emphatically, and Dominga broke into a wailing +cry.</p> + +<p>"Well, now I will speak plainly; before you go," said Mrs. Chandos, +"you shall marry Dominga, and take her with you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, impossible! nonsense!" protested her visitor, in an angry voice.</p> + +<p>"No, no; not at all im-possible. You do many bad things; you pretend to +every one you don't know my daughter, at all; you come out here on the +sly, sly—all Manora saw you; you make love, but you do <i>not</i> break her +heart and then leave her. You marry her, then you go!"</p> + +<p>"But my good lady——" he interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Cho-op!" she screamed, "see, now, I give you your choice; you take +her—or you take—<i>me</i>!"</p> + +<p>"What? you are mad—raving!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; me, me, me," indicating herself with three sharp finger taps; "I +am not poor, and I follow you all over the world, and I punish you. +First, I tell the station; then I go to the orderly room and tell the +Colonel; next, I write to your father! See, look, I swear it. I, too, +take passage in <i>Persia</i>—sit at your table; every now and then I call +'Rascal! rascal! rascal!' So, too, in England; I follow in the street; +I point, and cry 'Rascal, rascal, rascal!'"</p> + +<p>"The police——" he began.</p> + +<p>"Police take me up—arl-right. Say she is crazy! I go to court, I tell +all the story—what fun for the newspapers, and all the world will +know, and they will laugh, laugh, laugh, and cry shame. This I do, +if it cost my life, and my money. Whatever I want I get. You ask! my +husband could tell you—what I will happens; ask my mother and Dominga. +I always come out what you call 'top dog!' So now you speak, and say +which you take in the <i>Persia</i>—Dominga or me?"</p> + +<p>Her black gown had the effect of making Mrs. Chandos look judicial +and almost diabolical. She spoke rapidly, but with complete +self-possession, only that a light in her eyes flickered like the flame +of a candle.</p> + +<p>Poor Jimmy was completely dominated by this fierce little iron-willed +half-caste. Her victim felt instinctively that she would surely carry +out her threat, and be as bad as her word. Well, after all, why should +he not marry Dom? The present moment was critical—the future—was the +future. He was immensely fond of Dom. She was handsome, dashing and +clever, and adored him. Away from Manora she would be quite a striking +personality. It was her background—for instance, this devilish mother +of hers—which played the mischief.</p> + +<p>Yes, yes; he would do it—marry Dom before the magistrate, or by +special license, and wire for another passage—and, fired with this +reckless resolve, he drawled:</p> + +<p>"I say, you need not make such a confounded hullaballoo!" turning +suddenly on his future mother-in-law; "I intend to marry Dominga!"</p> + +<p>And Dominga, who had been clinging to his arm until now, on hearing +this announcement, slipped down to the floor in a limp heap. She had +fainted.</p> + +<p>Here was a fine piece of news for all the station, the bazaar, the +factory, the letters to the hills—"Captain Fielder had actually +married, by special license, Dom Chandos, and they had gone home in +the <i>Persia</i>! What would his father say?"</p> + +<p>And it had all been so secret! such a general hoodwinking was as +incredible as it was successful. Poor Colonel Palgrave! Poor Mrs. +Palgrave! Poor Mrs. Grundy!</p> + +<p>Dominga, in the midst of the hastiest preparations, and the most +bewildering happiness, nevertheless found time to pay a hurried visit +to the Trotters and to Blanche. She was marrying Jimmy for himself, but +to be in a position to tell Blanche and Lizzie that she would one day +be Lady Highstreet, and that in the meantime they must put "Honourable" +on her letters, was a joy that repaid her for many weeks of sorrow. +Lord Highstreet had transported his heir to India in order to avoid an +undesirable match, his son was now returning, and bringing (did his +father but know!) as wife, one of the daughters of the people!</p> + +<p>The true history of the Honourable Mrs. J. Fielder remained a profound +secret. Chandos was a good name; she was the grandchild of Chandos +of Charne, and talked not a little of her ancestors. Dom, clever, +imitative Dom! easily adapted herself to circumstances. She carried her +head high, she dressed well, and had a just sense of her own place in +the world. To see her in her carriage in the Park, with Jimmy grinning +beside her, they presented a charming and instructive picture of +domestic felicity—and in spite of his gallant boast, Master Jimmy <i>is</i> +kept in bounds!</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fielder's accent is unquestionably a little foreign—and when +extremely angry she has been known to break out into the language of +an unknown tongue—but then she is so accomplished! Who would believe +the graceful figure trailing about the lawns of Hurlingham was the +self-same woman, who, not so long ago, at a certain railway crossing, +had dashed herself down, torn her hair, beat her head upon the ground, +and called upon heaven and earth with heart-rending cries.</p> + +<p>Dom has one little boy. He is not the least like his parents, who are +both fair—he is too absurdly dark! His complexion is a puzzle to the +entire Highstreet connection, but Dom herself is silent! She knows +perfectly well (and buries the truth in her heart) that her darling +Villiers Augustus bears a fatal resemblance to his dear little Indian +cousin, Chandos Montagu-Jones!</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The marriage and departure of Dominga was a signal for the general +break-up of the Chandos household. The bungalow belonged to the +factory—and they must all seek another home. Pussy was now betrothed +to her Alonzo, who through Lepell interest had been promised a fine +post at Tundla Junction. Nani Lopez was to accompany her daughter into +the "Doon," for Mrs. Chandos had still ample means, and was enabled +(though shorn of her ill-gotten spoils) to give Pussy a fortune, and to +personally live at her ease. It may here be mentioned that she and her +parent spent the hot seasons in Mussouri, where, as the mother of Lady +Highstreet, she receives in certain circles a considerable amount of +agreeable attention.</p> + +<p>The news of Verona's existence came as a delightful shock to the Bourne +and Hargreaves families. Her new relatives were all eagerness to +welcome poor Vera's girl with open arms, not to speak of the invitation +she received from her friends, the Melvilles. It was arranged that she +was to return home with Mrs. Lepell in November, and when it came to +her very last hours in the Chandos Kothi, the grief of Pussy and Nani +was profound. Poor Pussy wept incessantly as she hung about her adored +Verona.</p> + +<p>"Only Alonzo has promised to take me <i>home</i> some day," she sobbed; "I +would not marry him—and I would die—never to see you again—to think +of it! I could not live—No!"</p> + +<p>"And why do you cry so?" remonstrated Nani. "Behold me!" her old face +looked sharpened and blanched; two unshed tears glittered in her eyes. +"I love Verona more than you do, and yet I shall never see her again. +For me there is no hope; yet I do not weep. Verona has done good here, +now she goes elsewhere—what says the proverb? 'Great rivers, medicinal +plants, and virtuous people, are born, not for themselves, but for the +good of others.' She goes to do good elsewhere, and I shall come and +stay with you at Tundla, and we," stroking Verona's cheek, "will often +talk of <i>her</i>."</p> + +<p>"I will never forget you, dear, dear Nani," whispered the girl. "Be +sure of that, and I will write to you often—and send you such pretty +wools."</p> + +<p>"Ah, core of my soul, no wool will make up for thee! And what of +Johnny?"</p> + +<p>"I would like to take him, but it would be selfish—here he has his +freedom and all his friends." At the moment he was executing gymnastic +feats among the lattice work; there was a rustle, a pair of watchful +eyes, a swift patter, and Johnny, with a new blue ribbon round his +neck, joined the party, and fearlessly climbed into his lady's lap.</p> + +<p>"Aré, see, I have half a mind to take him to the Doon," announced Nani.</p> + +<p>"No, no, Nani, let him stay here," pleaded Verona, "where he was first +found. As long as he lives, he will be a happy little monument to you, +and me—you saved his life, and I won his heart."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was Verona's last evening at Manora. The Chandos bungalow was now +untenanted, and she was staying with Mrs. Lepell. The two ladies and +Salwey, who had come to say good-bye to his aunt, were strolling about +the garden after dinner. To fitly describe Mrs. Lepell's garden would +fill a small volume, for it was not alone her mere garden; it was her +pride, her employment and her glory! In twenty years she had changed a +bare straggling compound into a little Eastern paradise. The lawn was +its chief feature; a large expanse of velvet turf, watered and clipped, +and lined with borders of the choicest rose-trees—in some of which the +bul-buls built their nests—it gave the impression of being full of +sweet flowers, of shady nooks, of blossoming shrubs and graceful trees, +and was the resort of many gay bold birds and brilliant butterflies.</p> + +<p>The lawn lay immediately behind the house; beyond it were cool green +pergolas shaded with ferns, and great patches of sweet pea; then came +the maze of mango trees, thickets of lemons, and beds of tomatoes, +gourds and lettuce. It was one of Mr. Lepell's jokes that his wife +could not endure to see people promenading on her precious English +turf! but to-night, she and two companions paced it slowly from end to +end—and once and again from end to end. They spoke but little. At last +Mrs. Lepell said:</p> + +<p>"And so you are not coming home, Brian? Well, I think you are very +foolish. You have had three hot weathers straight off."</p> + +<p>"I don't think it can be done this year, Aunt Liz."</p> + +<p>"It ought to be done, when your Aunt Liz is in England. Don't you +require some new clothes? Oh, there is old Mordoo beckoning; I suppose +he wants to speak to me about the doves. Don't go in, Verona, I will be +back in two seconds."</p> + +<p>"Your last evening here," said Salwey, breaking a somewhat constrained +silence. "How glad you must be to leave the land of regrets—when you +can regret nothing."</p> + +<p>"You forget," she answered, in a low voice. "Two graves."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I promise you that they will be well cared for—since Mrs. +Chandos is leaving the station."</p> + +<p>"And is all her business arranged and wound up?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is now in the hands of a trustworthy man—her books have been +destroyed. She has, however, an ample income."</p> + +<p>"So Saloo is no more, thanks to you. And your wish is accomplished."</p> + +<p>How bold she was!</p> + +<p>Her companion made no reply, as he paced the grass with his eyes on the +ground, and his arms locked behind him.</p> + +<p>"And you are not coming to England?" she pursued recklessly.</p> + +<p>"No; you see my work is out here."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, of course—and your heart is in your work!"</p> + +<p>Oh, what an abominably forward girl she was! If Mrs. Lepell did not +quickly return, she would find herself proposing to the man beside her. +She felt desperate; cool and self-possessed as she outwardly appeared. +Must she go home—and never see him again? Would he not speak even one +word? Her heart thumped so violently, she was half afraid that he might +hear it!</p> + +<p>"You have had some interesting experiences," he remarked. (She was on +the verge of the most extraordinary experience of all—did he but guess +the truth.)</p> + +<p>"But I am sure you will be thankful to get out of this country," he +resumed, "and, needless to say—you will never return."</p> + +<p>"I—I would return," she stammered—he suddenly stood still, raised his +head and looked her intently in the eyes—"I would return," she went +on, now with her gaze fixed on the ground—"if I was asked."</p> + +<p>"Asked!" he repeated. "What do you mean—asked, by whom?"</p> + +<p>"By the right person." Her voice had sunk to a whisper—her cheeks were +two flames.</p> + +<p>It was enough—further humiliation was spared her. Brian Salwey was +not so simple as he had declared. With a sudden brusque movement he +laid his hand on her shoulder; his face was white with the pallor of +intense emotion, as he looked straight into her eyes and said:</p> + +<p>"Am I the right person, Verona?"</p> + +<p>Verona's reply was inarticulate but sufficient.</p> + +<p>"It seems incredible!" he exclaimed, after a moment's stupefied silence.</p> + +<p>The blue campanulas rang their bells, the bamboos whispered, the +roses nodded to one another, and the great silver moon slowly slid +up from behind the clump of mango trees, raised her broad face over +the branches, and stared complacently on this couple in the garden. +Here was Mrs. Lepell hurrying back, and as she approached, Verona, +whose courage had entirely ebbed, ran into the verandah, and left her +companion to break as best he could the news to his aunt.</p> + +<p>"So!" exclaimed Mrs. Lepell, "I am absent for three minutes, and you +seize the opportunity to ask Verona to return to India to marry you! +Well, Brian, you <i>have</i> a good conceit of yourself!" This was not, +as we are aware, an accurate statement of the case, but Salwey was +eminently chivalrous.</p> + +<p>"What is this I hear?" demanded her hostess, as she pursued Verona into +her room. "Niece to be—or not to be! I do not think I can accord my +consent!" and she surveyed her with a smile of good-humoured perplexity.</p> + +<p>"Has it been asked, Aunt Liz?" she murmured slyly.</p> + +<p>"Verona, you are a most exasperating creature! Do please think of what +will be said of <i>me</i> at home—of the match-making woman, who took +time by the forelock, and arranged it all with her own nephew—such a +wretched <i>parti</i>! Think of what your grandfather will say!"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, I've already had two sets of grandfathers, and I don't +care what anyone says—I shall marry to please myself."</p> + +<p>"Like mother, like daughter! Oh, dear child, do forgive me! I don't +mean to be horrid!"</p> + +<p>"I intend to marry Brian," continued Verona, in a firm voice, "who, +when I was a nobody, treated me like a Princess—and loved me for +myself."</p> + +<p>"And you will come out here once more, to be the wife of a police +wallah?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And since he really is not raving mad, I suppose he is to travel to +Bombay—and see us off?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Aunt Liz, I suppose so."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lepell put her arm round the girl's neck and kissed her +affectionately. "Of course, dear—speaking unofficially—I am +delighted, and though I say it, who am his own aunt, few girls are in +my opinion good enough for Brian. <i>You</i> are; and I should be entirely +happy, only for thinking of your relations. Your grandfather so anxious +to claim you—your aunt; if I only——"</p> + +<p>"If you only say another word, Aunt Liz," interrupted Verona, "I +declare I shall take a three months' return ticket to Bombay."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XLIV">CHAPTER XLIV</h2> +</div> + + +<p>It was five o'clock on a June evening; a day of tropical heat had +almost prostrated London, and many people were in the Park, strolling +slowly to and fro, or sitting on penny chairs, watching the crowds near +the Achilles statue. Among these lookers-on were Sir Horace Haig and +his nephew, recently returned from India on sick leave. Sir Horace's +little blue eyes peered forth from beneath their shaggy brows, with +an even fiercer intentness than of old, as he leant on his cane, +and delivered criticisms on those unfortunates who passed along the +surrounding brown grass.</p> + +<p>"I say, see these smart women!" he growled, "Mrs. Blynne and her +daughter—flaunting in French frocks. I'll swear they live in two +rooms, and have not a stiver over three hundred a year. How the dickens +do they do it?"</p> + +<p>"Credit," muttered his companion.</p> + +<p>"Bah! widows with small incomes don't get <i>that</i>. It's my belief she is +going to induce that old fool, Montlevi, to marry her."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I haven't the smallest objection," drawled Captain Haig.</p> + +<p>"And here comes Lady Tracy-Fleet, with her two little girls on show, +quite the pattern matron! and I happen to know that she lost eight +hundred pounds one night last week at bridge. There is Leoni and his +daughter; she will have a great fortune. Eh, Malcolm? rather dark, but +you can't have everything!" But Malcolm made no reply; he was gravely +considering his boots.</p> + +<p>"Hallo!" exclaimed his uncle after a pause; "I say, do you remember +that girl at Homburg—Miss Chandos, the heiress? Why, of course you +do—you were rather gone in that quarter, eh?—old woman left her +nothing, and she went to India and got mixed up with a lot of shady +people."</p> + +<p>"Yes; what about her?"</p> + +<p>"Why, she is over there! and coming this way, with Lord Sombourne and +Lady Ida Eustace."</p> + +<p>Malcolm ceased to lounge and contemplate his favourite pair of boots, +and instantly sat up erect and alert.</p> + +<p>Yes; walking with measured ease between a tall, aristocratic old man +and a tall, aristocratic woman, he beheld Verona. She wore a long, +flowing white gown, a black hat, and carried in her hand a dainty pink +parasol. She looked lovely!</p> + +<p>"So it turned out that she was Sombourne's grand-daughter," resumed Sir +Horace, "daughter of that Lady Vera, who made a bolt of it instead of +marrying Sir Job Gilderman. Lord, what a hub-bub! I remember it like +yesterday. The girl has not lost her looks, and, by all accounts, she +will have a good fortune. I say, what do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I think I'm going to speak to her," replied his nephew, who had +risen to his feet, yielding to an impulse he only half understood.</p> + +<p>"All right; don't mind me."</p> + +<p>Captain Haig walked a few paces across the turf and confronted Verona, +and swept off his hat.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Captain Haig, how do you do?" she exclaimed. "I did not know you +were at home."</p> + +<p>"I arrived a month ago—sick certificate."</p> + +<p>"Let me introduce you to my aunt, Lady Ida Eustace—my grandfather, +Lord Sombourne."</p> + +<p>What a different class to the former family to which she had made him +known!</p> + +<p>"I believe we met in India," said Lady Ida, offering her five and +three-quarter hand. "Positively this has been a real Indian day; we +came out for a breath of air and are just going home to tea, close by. +Will you join us?"</p> + +<p>Captain Haig accepted the invitation with flattering alacrity, and +presently fell behind with the young lady. As they passed close to Sir +Horace that gentleman made a quick little sign to his nephew, as much +as to say:</p> + +<p>"Bless you, my children!"</p> + +<p>Lord Sombourne's town house was spacious, imposing, and at the present +moment delightfully cool and dim. Tea was served in a lofty drawing +room, lined with priceless old tapestry, and opening out of which was a +conservatory full of palms and tropical plants, cooled by a splashing +fountain. Here indeed was a home in every way worthy of Miss Verona; +and as Captain Haig furtively surveyed the powdered servants, the Queen +Anne silver, the rare old Sèvres service, all his former admiration +for his Princess suddenly flamed into life! He felt convinced that she +was the one woman in the world for him. There had been a temporary +interregnum, but no one had been exalted to the throne! Yes, he assured +himself—he had always been true to her. Could he persuade <i>her</i> to +believe this?</p> + +<p>After tea Lady Ida, having excused herself to write a note, departed +into the front drawing room, and the pair were alone.</p> + +<p>"It is hot enough, as Lady Ida says, to recall India!" exclaimed +Captain Haig as he passed a delicate silk handkerchief over his +forehead. "I don't suppose you care to be reminded of anything out +there! It must be all like a bad dream."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," she responded; "there were some good days, and I +made some good friends."</p> + +<p>"The Lepells, for instance."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I came home with Mrs. Lepell."</p> + +<p>"And so you were not a Chandos after all!"</p> + +<p>"No; I have had a most varied circle of connections, and now I belong +at last to my real relations."</p> + +<p>"I cannot somehow call you Miss Hargreaves."</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth I have hardly got accustomed to it myself!" and she +laughed.</p> + +<p>"I was always so puzzled—I may say dumbfounded. You were so utterly +different to Pussy and Dominga. Dom appalled me."</p> + +<p>"Did she?—and now," looking at him with a mischievous smile, she +added, "<i>you</i> are connected with her—and I am not!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and do you know, she is quite a success!—has swept the old +Lord straight off his legs, and my uncle, Sir Horace, is actually +enslaved! I say," he added, leaning towards her, and lowering his voice +mysteriously—"<i>they don't know</i>."</p> + +<p>"No? I used to be dreadfully prejudiced; now I am not. I agree with Mr. +Salwey that a slight mixture of Eastern blood is not a disadvantage."</p> + +<p>"Salwey! By the way, that reminds me, I saw the death of his father in +this evening's paper."</p> + +<p>"Really!" she exclaimed, and her colour deepened. After a pause she +added, "It must have been rather sudden."</p> + +<p>"I cannot say—I am sure," he rejoined indifferently. "I believe it is +a fine property, and I am glad poor old Salwey will get his innings at +last. It will make a great difference to him. What do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," drawing a long breath, "and it will make a great difference to +me!"</p> + +<p>"Why," he asked, "should it affect you?"</p> + +<p>"Because I need not now return to India."</p> + +<p>"Then—then," he stammered, "I gather that you and Salwey are engaged."</p> + +<p>"It is true," she answered softly, "though not yet announced in the +<i>Morning Post</i>, and I tell you as an old friend. He is on his way home."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Hargreaves! I—of course—wish you every happiness, but this +is very terrible news to me."</p> + +<p>"To you? I don't quite understand," she said sedately.</p> + +<p>"You know very well how long I have been attached to you, don't you? +And now I'm too late. Do you realise what brought me to England?"</p> + +<p>"Sick leave, I think you said."</p> + +<p>"Home-sick leave. I wanted to see <i>you</i>."</p> + +<p>"Now, Captain Haig, please don't be so tragic!" she exclaimed with a +touch of impatience, "you know very well that in your heart of hearts +you did not care so very much for me. You will soon forget all about +Homburg, and I will forget all about India, and so we will be quits, +and, I trust, good friends."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you two must have had quite a nice Indian gossip!" said Lady +Ida, sweeping into the room, note in hand; "I suppose you have been +going over all your mutual experiences out there?"</p> + +<p>"I—I—suppose we have," assented the visitor mechanically.</p> + +<p>"I daresay you know Mr. Salwey?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; we were at Harrow together. I was his fag, and he used to lick me +for not cleaning his boots! I also knew him in India."</p> + +<p>"He is on his way home now."</p> + +<p>"So I hear," rising as he spoke. "Well, I am afraid I ought to be on my +way home too. I am staying down the river."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will come and look us up again, and meet your old +school-fellow," said Lady Ida. "You will generally find us here at +tea-time. We are always glad to see Verona's friends."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you very much." Then he suddenly shook hands, gave the young +lady one glance, and without another word took his departure. Presently +the door below was heard to slam.</p> + +<p>Verona went to the balcony, and gazed after the retreating figure. He +walked rapidly for an invalid—his quick footfall had an impatient +ring—and as he passed out of sight she heaved a little sigh.</p> + +<p>"My dear child! what is the meaning of this?" enquired her aunt, +placing two hands heavily on her shoulders, "gazing after a young man, +and sighing like—I don't know what!"</p> + +<p>"I am only looking after him—to see the last of an old love affair."</p> + +<p>"What a funny girl you are!"</p> + +<p>"That was what Mrs. Chandos used to say."</p> + +<p>"Pray, don't mention that odious woman. And Brian—what would he say?"</p> + +<p>"I adore Brian; I would not marry anyone else for the whole world, but +really you must allow me to be a little sorry for the—other young man!"</p> + +<p>"Because you will not be his wife!" exclaimed Lady Ida, with dancing +eyes. "What a pretty, conceited niece!" and she kissed her with +effusion.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Dominga and Pussy are married; so also, to the surprise of her friends, +is Lizzie Trotter, and there are some changes at Manora. For instance, +Mr. Lepell is at home, and Mr. Watkin officiates as a somewhat pompous +regent, with Mrs. Watkin as his insufferable consort. The Chandos +bungalow still stands empty, and the squirrels share the verandah with +the sparrows and the crows. Unmindful of the drowsy Chokedar, they race +along the flags or execute gymnastic feats in the lattice work with +many a "Chir—ip—pip—pip—pip." Pretty little creatures, with sleek +bodies and bushy barred tails.</p> + +<p>One of the squirrels has a bit of faded ribbon round his neck—he is +very tame. No, Johnny has not forgotten! at a sudden footfall, he will +start and listen. When the house is open, he scours through all the +rooms; in a certain window he is often to be seen for hours watching +and waiting.</p> + +<p>Alas, faithful little heart! your hopes are never to be realised. Other +steps and other voices may come and go within the Chandos bungalow—but +Verona will never return.</p> + + +<p class="ph3">THE END.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3"><i>Printed at The Chapel River Press, Kingston, Surrey.</i></p> + +<p class="ph3">[Transcriber's Note: Inconsistent hyphenation left as printed.]</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME</p> + + +<p class="ph3">Madame Albanesi</p> + + +<p class="ph3">Drusilla's Point of View<br> +Marian Sax<br> +A Question of Quality<br> +The Strongest of all Things<br> +A Young Man from the Country</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">Alice and Claude Askew</p> + + +<p class="ph3">Destiny</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">M. E. Braddon</p> + + +<p class="ph3">The White House<br> +During Her Majesty's Pleasure</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">Mrs. B. M. Croker</p> + + +<p class="ph3">Her Own People<br> +The Youngest Miss Mowbray<br> +The Company's Servant</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">Jessie Fothergill</p> + + +<p class="ph3">A March in the Ranks</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">Cosmo Hamilton</p> + + +<p class="ph3">The Infinite Capacity</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">E. W. Hornung</p> + + +<p class="ph3">Peccavi</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">Justin Huntly McCarthy</p> + + +<p class="ph3">The God of Love<br> +The Illustrious O'Hagan<br> +Needles and Pins</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">Mary E. Mann</p> + + +<p class="ph3">Moonlight</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">Charles Marriott</p> + + +<p class="ph3">The Intruding Angel</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">Mrs. Oliphant</p> + + +<p class="ph3">The Cuckoo in the Nest<br> +It was a Lover and His Lass<br> +Janet<br> +Agnes</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">William Le Queux</p> + + +<p class="ph3">The Man from Downing Street</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">Mrs. Baillie Reynolds</p> + + +<p class="ph3">The Ides of March</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">"Rita"</p> + + +<p class="ph3">The Seventh Dream</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">Adeline Sergeant</p> + + +<p class="ph3">Kitty Holden<br> +A Soul Apart<br> +Jacobi's Wife</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">Beatrice Whitby</p> + + +<p class="ph3">Bequeathed</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">Percy White</p> + + +<p class="ph3">Colonel Daveron<br> +The House of Intrigue</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">Mrs. C. N. Williamson</p> + + +<p class="ph3">The Turnstile of Night<br> +The Silent Battle</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">HURST AND BLACKETT'S<br> +7d. COPYRIGHT NOVELS.</p> + + + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75402 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75402-h/images/cover.jpg b/75402-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bce5e99 --- /dev/null +++ b/75402-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/75402-h/images/illus.jpg b/75402-h/images/illus.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1dca734 --- /dev/null +++ b/75402-h/images/illus.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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