CHAPTER IV.MISS DENIS HAS VISITORS.
"What's his name and birth? I cannot delve him to the root."
"What's his name and birth? I cannot delve him to the root."
"What's his name and birth? I cannot delve him to the root."
"What's his name and birth? I cannot delve him to the root."
"What's his name and birth? I cannot delve him to the root."
Shakespeare.
"Thereis Mrs. Creery!" exclaimed Colonel Denis, starting up rather nervously. "She has come to callfirst. Don't keep her waiting." To Helen, who was hastily smoothing her hair and pulling out her ruffles, "You will do first-rate; go into the drawing-room, my dear."
"Yes, but not alone, papa!" taking him by the arm. "You will have to introduce us—you must come with me."
You see she had begun to saymustalready!—Colonel Denis was by no means reluctant to present his pearl of daughters to the visitor who had prognosticated that she would be plain, and he was sufficiently human to enjoy that lady's stare of stolid astonishment, as she took Helen's hand, and kept it in hers for quite a minute, whilst she leisurely studied her face.
"How do you do, Miss Denis? had you a good passage?"
"Very good, thank you," replied the young lady demurely.
"I see," sitting down as she spoke, and specially addressing Colonel Denis, "that you have had new curtains and purdahs put up, and haveactually bought that white marble table that Kursandoss had so long on hand! How much did you give for it?"
"One hundred rupees," replied the purchaser in a guilty voice.
"Heavens and earth!" casting up hands and eyes, "did any one ever hear of such folly! It is not worththirty. Miss Denis, it's a good thing that you have come out to look after your father—he is a most extravagant man!"
Helen thought that this was a pleasantry, and laughed immoderately. Mrs. Creery was really most amusing,—but how oddly she was dressed! She was quite old, in Helen's eyes (in truth she was not far from fifty), and yet she was attired in a white muslin polonaise trimmed with rose-coloured bows, and wore a black sailor's hat, with the lettersBacchantestamped in gold upon the ribbon! Meanwhile the elder lady had been taking a great deal of interest in Miss Denis's pretty morning-dress; she had come to the conclusion that the pattern was too complicated to be what is called "carried away in her eye," and was resolved to ask for it boldly,—and that before she was many days older!
"You may go up to the mess," she said, playfully dismissing her host with a wave of her plump, mittened hand. "I want to have a chat with your daughter alone. I came to see her—youare no novelty!"
"Now, my dear, we shall be quite comfortable," she said, as Colonel Denis meekly took his departure. "Did you find him much changed?" she continued, lowering her voice mysteriously.
"A little, but not"—smiling—"nearlyas much changed as I seem to him!"
"How much is he going to allow you for the housekeeping?"
Helen assured her questioner that the subject had not even been considered.
Mrs. Creery, on hearing this, was visibly disappointed, and said rather tartly,—
"Well, don't listen to anything under five rupees a day—you could not do it less. The Durands spend that! The Homessaythey manage on four, but that's nonsense, and the children could not be half fed.Maybe your father will still leave it to Ram Sawmy, but"—with sudden energy—"you must not hear of that,—the man is a robber!"
"He has been twenty years with papa," ventured Helen.
"So much the worse for your father'spocket," returned Mrs. Creery emphatically. "I suppose you have brought out a number of new gowns? What have you got?"
"I have a white silk, and a black silk," replied Helen, with some exultation in her own mind, for they were her first silk dresses.
"Both perfectly useless here!" snapped the matron.
"A riding-habit."
"Stark, staring madness! There's not a horse between this and Calcutta—unless a clothes-horse! What else?"
"A cashmere and plush costume."
"You may just send it back to England, or throw it away."
Helen paused aghast.
"Well, well—go on, go on—that's notall, surely?"
"I have some pretty cottons and muslins, and a tennis-dress."
"Come, that's better; and when are your boxes to be opened?"
"This afternoon, if possible."
"Oh, well, I'll come down and see your things to-morrow; I may get some new ideas, and we are a little behind-hand with the fashions here," waving once more her mittened hand. "And now to turn to another subject! It's a great responsibility for a young girl like you to be placed at the head of even asmallestablishment like this! I am older than you are" (it was quite superfluous to mention this fact), "I know the world, and I wish to give you a word of caution."
Helen became crimson.
"I hope you are a steady, sensible girl."
"I hope so, Mrs. Creery," raising her chin in a manner well known to Miss Twigg,—a manner betokening insurrection.
"There now, don't be huffy! I mean to be your friend. I would havecome down and stayed here for the first week or two, to set you going, if your father had asked me, as you have no lady in the house; however, I've spoken to him most seriously. All the men in the place will of course be flocking to call, and turning your head with their silly compliments. As a rule they are not a bad set of young fellows; but Mr. Quentin and Captain Rodney are the only two whoIshould say were in a position to marry,—the others are just paupers—butterflies! Oh, and yes"—here her voice became hollow and mysterious—"I must put you on your guard against a Mr. Lisle."
"A Mr. Lisle!" echoed Helen, opening her eyes very wide.
"Yes, Lisle—don't forget the name. He seldom comes over; he lives at Aberdeen with Mr. Quentin—livesonhim, I should say," correcting herself sharply. "He came here a few months ago—goodness knows from where. It is generally believed that he is inhiding—that he is under a cloud; he is poor as a rat, has no visible means of livelihood, and is as close as wax about his past. However, Mr. Quentin shields him, keeps his secret, and there is nothing more to be said except this—don'tyouhave anything to say to him; he may have the impudence to call, but indeed, to give him his due, he does not push. It is a most unpleasant feeling to have this black sheep living in the neighbourhood at all; I wish he was well out of the settlement!" shaking her head expressively.
Helen, amazed at Mrs. Creery's volubility, sat staring at her in speechless surprise. Why should she take such pains to warn her against a man who she admitted did not push, and whom she was not likely to see? Another knocking in the verandah, and a rather timid voice calling "Boy!" announced the arrival of a second visitor, and Mrs. Creery rose, saying,—
"You will be coming up to the General's tennis this evening, and we shall meet again, so I won't say good-bye;" then, casting one last searching glance around the apartment, she, as if seized by some afterthought, hurried across, coolly pulled back the purdah (door-curtain), and looked into the dining-room. "Nothing newthere, I see," dropping the drapery after a long, exhaustive stare; "nothingbut a filter! Well,au revoir," and nodding approvingly at Helen, she finally took her departure.
The new arrival was a complete contrast to the parting guest; a pale, faded, but still pretty little woman, with imploring dark eyes (like a newly-caught fawn), attired in a neat white dress, a solar topee, and respectable gloves. She was Mrs. Home, the wife of Colonel Denis's commanding officer, and the mother, as she plaintively informed Helen, of no less than nine children!
"They make me so dreadfully anxious, dear Miss Denis, especially the seven at home. I live on tenter-hooks from mail-day to mail-day. Imagine my feelings when they wereallin measles last spring!"
But this was a feat beyond Helen.
"You have two here?" she asked politely, after a pause.
"Yes, Tom and Billy. Your father is so fond of them, and they wanted so much to come and see you. But I told them you would think them a trouble—and the first call too!"
Helen eagerly assured her visitor that they would have been most welcome, and rushing impulsively out of the room, returned with a box of chocolate-creams she had purchased for her own delectation; which she sent to the young gentlemen with her best love, requesting that they would come and call as soon as possible. This gift, and message, completely won their mother's heart. At first she had been a little doubtful, a little in awe, of this pretty, fashionable-looking girl, but now she became much warmer in manner, and said,—
"You know, my dear, I'm not a society lady, I have no time for gaiety, even if I were fitted for it; between sewing for my boys and girls at home, and my letters, and my housekeeping, not to mention Tom and Billy, I never seem to have a spare moment. I came down here early on purpose, hoping to be thefirstto welcome you, but I was late after all!" and she smiled deprecatingly. "Your father is such a very dear friend of ours, that I feel as if I had a kind of claim on you, and hope you won't stand on ceremony with us, but come to see us as often as you can. Will you?"
"I shall be very glad indeed, thank you."
"You see, you and I being the only ladies in the 'Puggarees' too,—it is a kind of bond, is it not? If I can help you in any way about your housekeeping, be sure you let me know, won't you? I am an old campaigner of fifteen years' standing, and everything, of course, is quite new to you. You and your father, I hope, will come up and dine with us quietly to-morrow night, and then you and I can have a very nice long chat."
Helen thanked Mrs. Home for her invitation, and said that if her father was not engaged, she was sure they would be most happy to accept it.
"And now, my dear," said the little lady, rising, "I must really go! the Dhoby has been waiting for me at home this half-hour, I know, and I have all the clean clothes to sort, so I will wish you good-bye. May I kiss you?" holding Helen's hand, and looking at her with timid, appealing eyes. Helen became rather red, but smiled assent, thereupon the salute was exchanged, and Mrs. Home presently took her departure.
After this visit, there was a long interval. Colonel and Miss Denis were equipped and ready to start for the General's tennis party, when Sawmy brought in another card; a small one this time, bearing the name of "Mr. James Quentin." The card was almost instantly followed by that gentleman, looking as if he had just stepped out of a band-box. Having cordially wrung his host's hand, and been presented to his daughter, he seated himself near the young lady, placed his hat on the floor, and commenced to discuss the climate, her passage, &c., surveying the new arrival critically at the same time. "She was much prettier than he expected," he said to himself as he summed her up; "her profile was not classical, but it would pass; her eyes were fine in shape and colour, though their expression was rather too merry forhistaste; he imagined that she had plenty of spirits, and but a meagre supply of sentiment. Her complexion was perfect, but of coursethatwould not last three months!" On the whole, he was most agreeably surprised, and her dainty dress, and ladylike deportment, were as refreshing to his eyes, as a spring of water to a traveller in the desert! The shapeof her hat, the fit of her long gloves, her brilliant colour, and pure English accent, all mentally carried him back to the Park once more—his Mecca! Yes, the fall of Miss Denis's draperies, the very lace in her ruffles, were each a source of gratification to her visitor, who had a keen eye for such things, and was a connoisseur in toilettes. He told himself emphatically that this young lady was "no end of a find!" but, aloud, he politely inquired if Colonel and Miss Denis were going up to the tennis. They were. Well, he was going too—a sudden resolution—and might he be permitted to accompany them?
Mr. James Quentin felt an additional sense of importance, as he strolled up the narrow path towards the General's grounds, personally conducting Miss Denis (coolly leaving her father to bring up the rear alone, as the pathway was too narrow to permit of three abreast), and he honestly believed, that the young lady beside him could not be launched into settlement society under happier, or more distinguished, auspices.