Volume One—Chapter Twenty.A Proposal.Mr Perowne’s home at Sindang was kept up in almost princely style, and he was regarded as the principal inhabitant of the place. Both English and Chinese merchants consulted him, and the native dealers and rajahs made him the first offers of tin slabs, rice, gambier, gutta-percha, and other products of the country, while a large proportion of the English and French imports that found favour with the Malays were consigned to the house of Perowne and Company.People said that he must be immensely rich, and he never denied the impeachment, but went on in a quiet, bland way, accepting their hints, polite to all, whether trading or non-trading, while his table was magnificently kept up, and to it the occupants of the station were always made welcome.When fate places people in the tropics, they make a point of rising early. Helen Perowne was up with the sun, and dressed in a charming French muslin costume, had a delightful drive, which she called upon Grey Stuart to share, before she met her father at breakfast—a meal discussed almost in silence, for Mr Perowne would give a good deal of his attention to business matters over his meals, a habit against which Dr Bolter warned him, but without avail.The repast was nearly finished, when a servant entered and announced that the Sultan Murad was coming down the river in his dragon-boat, and evidently meant to land at the stage at the bottom of the garden.“What does he want?” said the merchant, absently. “Been collecting tribute, I suppose, and wants to sell. Go and see if he lands,” he said aloud, “and then come back.”“This is the way we have to make our money, my dear,” said Perowne, smiling, but without seeing the increased colour in his child’s face.“The Sultan is here, sir,” said the man, returning.“Where?” asked Mr Perowne.“In the drawing-room, sir. Shall I bring in fresh breakfast?”“I don’t know. I’ll ring. I’ve done, Helen. I say, young lady, what a colour you have got! You stopped out too long in the sun this morning.”“Oh, no, papa, I think not,” she replied; “but it is hot.”“You’ll soon get used to that, my dear. I don’t mind the heat at all. Party went off very well last night, I think.”The merchant was by this time at the door, wondering what proposal the Rajah had to make to him, for all these petty princes stoop to doing a little trading upon their own account, raising rice in large quantities by means of their slaves; but, man of the world as the merchant was, he did not find himself prepared for the proposition that ensued.In this case Helen was more prepared than her father, though even she was taken by surprise. She had had her suspicions that the Rajah might take her soft glances and gently-spoken words as sufficient permission for him to speak to her father; and though she trembled at the possible result, there was something so deliciously gratifying to her vanity that she could not help enjoying the position.To be asked in marriage by a real sultan! What would the Miss Twettenhams say? and if she accepted him she would be sultana. The idea was dazzling at a distance, but even to her romance-loving brain there was something theatrical when it was looked at with the eyes of common sense.She could not accept him. It was absurd; and after all, perhaps he had no such idea as that in coming. It was, as her father thought, some matter of business, such as he had been in the habit of visiting her father about over and over again, and such as had resulted in the intimacy which made him a welcome guest at the house.She thought differently, however; and though she assumed surprise, she was in nowise startled when her father returned.“I say, Nelly!” he exclaimed, looking annoyed, and completely off his balance, “what the dickens have you been about?”“About, papa?” said the girl, raising her eyebrows, “I don’t understand you!”“Then the sooner you do the better! I’ve quite enough to worry me without your foolery! Here’s the Rajah come to see me on business.”“Very well, papa, I don’t understand business,” she said, quietly.“But you’ll have to understand it!” he cried, angrily. “Here, he says that you have been giving him permission to speak to me; and as far as I can understand him, he proposes for your hand!”“The Rajah, papa! Oh! absurd!”“Oh, yes, it’s absurd enough, confound his copper-coloured insolence! But it puts me in a fix with him. If I offend him, I shall offend his people, or he’ll make them offended, and I shall be a heavy loser. Did you tell him to speak to me?”“Certainly not, papa!”“Perhaps I misunderstood him, for he speaks horrible English. But whether or no, he proposes that you shall be his wife.”“His wife, papa! Why, he has a dozen!”“Yes, my dear, of course; but then these fellows don’t take that into consideration. What the deuce am I to do?”“Tell him it is an insult to an English lady to propose such a thing!” said Helen, haughtily.“Yes, that’s easily said; but you must have been leading the fellow on.”“He was your guest, papa, and I was civil to him,” said Helen, coldly.“A deal too civil, I’ll be bound! I’m sick of your civilities, Nell, and their consequences! Why can’t you get engaged like any other girl? I wish to goodness you were married and settled!”“Thank you, papa,” she replied in the same cold, indifferent manner.“Yes, but this fellow’s waiting to see you. What am I to say.”“What are you to say, papa? Really you ought to know!”“But it’s impossible for you to accept him, though he is very rich.”“Quite impossible, papa!”“Then he’ll be offended.”“Well, papa, that is not of much consequence.”“But it is of consequence—of great consequence! Don’t I tell you it will cause me serious loss; and besides that, it is dangerous to affront a fellow like this. He is only a nigger, of course, but he is a reigning prince, and has great power. He’s as proud as Lucifer; and if he considers that he is affronted, there’s no knowing what may be the consequences.”“He may carry me off perhaps, papa,” said Helen, showing her white teeth.“Well, I wouldn’t say that he might not attempt it!”“Like a baron of old,” said the girl scornfully. “Papa, I am not a child! How can you be so absurd?”“You can call it what you like,” he said angrily; “but your folly has got us into a pretty mess. Well, you must go in and see him.”“I? Go in and see him?” cried Helen, flushing. “Impossible, papa!”“But it is not impossible. I told him I didn’t know what to say till I had seen you, and, what was the perfect truth, that I was quite taken by surprise. Now the best thing will be for you to go in and see him and temporise with him. Don’t refuse him out and out, but try and ease him off, as one may say. Gain time, and the fellow will forget all about it in a month or two.”“Papa!”“Ah, you may say—papa; but you have got me into a terrible muddle, and now you must help to get me out of it. I must not have this fellow offended. Confound the insolent scoundrel! Just like the savage. He learns to wear English clothes, and then thinks he is a gentleman, and insults us with this proposal.”“Yes; insults us papa: that is the word!” cried Helen, with spirit.“Well, time’s flying, and he is waiting, so go and see him at once, and get it over.”“But I tell you, papa, I cannot. It is impossible!”“Why, you were talking to him for long enough last night in the drawing-room. Now, come, Helen, don’t be ridiculous, but go and do as I tell you; and the sooner it is done the better.”Helen Perowne pressed her lips tightly together, and a look came into her face that betokened obstinate determination of the straightest kind.“Papa, you make matters worse,” she cried, “by proposing such a degrading task to me. This man is, as you say, little better than a savage. His proposal is an insult, and yet you wish me to go and see him. It is impossible!”“Don’t I tell you that I have business arrangements with the fellow, and that I can’t afford to lose his custom? And don’t I tell you that, situated as we are here amongst these people, it is not wise to make them our enemies. I don’t want you to snub him. It is only for prudential reasons. Now, come; get it over.”“I cannot see him! I will not see him!” cried Helen, passionately; and she turned pale now at the idea of encountering the passionate young Malay. For the moment she bitterly regretted her folly, though the chances are that if circumstances tended in that direction she would have behaved again in precisely the same way.“Now look here, Nelly,” said Mr Perowne, “you must see him!”For answer she paused for a moment, and then walked straight to the door.“That’s right,” he said. “Temporise with him a bit, my dear, and let him down gently.”Helen stood with the door in her hand, and darted at him an imperious look; then she passed through, and the door swung to behind her.“Confound him! What insolence!” muttered Mr Perowne, as he stood listening. “Eh? No; she wouldn’t dare! Why, confound the girl, she has gone up to her room and locked herself in! What a temper she has got to be sure!”He gave his head a vicious rub, and then, evidently under the impression that it was in vain to appeal again to his child, he snapped his teeth together sharply, and walked firmly into the drawing-room, where the Rajah stood impatiently waiting his return.The young eastern prince was most carefully dressed; his morning coat and trousers being from a West-end tailor, and his hands were covered with the tightest of lemon-coloured gloves. In one hand was a grey tall hat, in the other the thinnest of umbrellas. Altogether his appearance was unexceptionable, if he had dispensed with the gaudy silken sarong ablaze with a plaid of green, yellow, and scarlet.His thick lips were wreathed in a pleasant smile, and his dark, full eyes were half closed; but they opened widely for an instant, and seemed to emit anger in one flash, as he saw that Mr Perowne came back alone.“Where—is—miss?” he said, in a slow, thick tone.“Well, the fact is, Rajah,” said Mr Perowne, giving a laugh to clear his throat, “I have seen my daughter, and she asked me to tell you that she is suffering from a bad headache. You understand me?”The young Rajah nodded, his eyes seeming to contract the while.“She is of course very much flattered by your proposal—one which she says she will think over most carefully; but she is so surprised, that she can only ask you to give her time. I see you understand me?”The Rajah nodded again in a quick, eager way.“English girls do not sayyeaall at once to a proposal like yours; and if you will wait a few months—of course being good friends all the time—we shall be able to speak more about the subject.”Mr Perowne, merchant, and man of the world, meant to say all this in a quick, matter-of-fact, frank way, but he stumbled, and spoke in a halting, lame fashion, growing more and more unsatisfactory as the young Malay prince came closer to him.“I—I think you understand me,” he said, feeling called upon to say something, as the Malay glared at him as if about to spring.“Yes—yes!” hissed the Malay. “Lies—all lies! I came for friend. You mock—you laugh in my face—but you do not know. I say I came for friend—I go away—enemy!”He went on speaking rapidly in the Malay tongue, his rage seeming to be the more concentrated from the cold, cutting tone he adopted. Then, nearly closing his eyes, and giving his peculiar type of features a crafty, cat-like aspect, he gazed furiously at the merchant for a few minutes, and then turned, and seemed to creep from the house in a way that was as feline as his looks.
Mr Perowne’s home at Sindang was kept up in almost princely style, and he was regarded as the principal inhabitant of the place. Both English and Chinese merchants consulted him, and the native dealers and rajahs made him the first offers of tin slabs, rice, gambier, gutta-percha, and other products of the country, while a large proportion of the English and French imports that found favour with the Malays were consigned to the house of Perowne and Company.
People said that he must be immensely rich, and he never denied the impeachment, but went on in a quiet, bland way, accepting their hints, polite to all, whether trading or non-trading, while his table was magnificently kept up, and to it the occupants of the station were always made welcome.
When fate places people in the tropics, they make a point of rising early. Helen Perowne was up with the sun, and dressed in a charming French muslin costume, had a delightful drive, which she called upon Grey Stuart to share, before she met her father at breakfast—a meal discussed almost in silence, for Mr Perowne would give a good deal of his attention to business matters over his meals, a habit against which Dr Bolter warned him, but without avail.
The repast was nearly finished, when a servant entered and announced that the Sultan Murad was coming down the river in his dragon-boat, and evidently meant to land at the stage at the bottom of the garden.
“What does he want?” said the merchant, absently. “Been collecting tribute, I suppose, and wants to sell. Go and see if he lands,” he said aloud, “and then come back.”
“This is the way we have to make our money, my dear,” said Perowne, smiling, but without seeing the increased colour in his child’s face.
“The Sultan is here, sir,” said the man, returning.
“Where?” asked Mr Perowne.
“In the drawing-room, sir. Shall I bring in fresh breakfast?”
“I don’t know. I’ll ring. I’ve done, Helen. I say, young lady, what a colour you have got! You stopped out too long in the sun this morning.”
“Oh, no, papa, I think not,” she replied; “but it is hot.”
“You’ll soon get used to that, my dear. I don’t mind the heat at all. Party went off very well last night, I think.”
The merchant was by this time at the door, wondering what proposal the Rajah had to make to him, for all these petty princes stoop to doing a little trading upon their own account, raising rice in large quantities by means of their slaves; but, man of the world as the merchant was, he did not find himself prepared for the proposition that ensued.
In this case Helen was more prepared than her father, though even she was taken by surprise. She had had her suspicions that the Rajah might take her soft glances and gently-spoken words as sufficient permission for him to speak to her father; and though she trembled at the possible result, there was something so deliciously gratifying to her vanity that she could not help enjoying the position.
To be asked in marriage by a real sultan! What would the Miss Twettenhams say? and if she accepted him she would be sultana. The idea was dazzling at a distance, but even to her romance-loving brain there was something theatrical when it was looked at with the eyes of common sense.
She could not accept him. It was absurd; and after all, perhaps he had no such idea as that in coming. It was, as her father thought, some matter of business, such as he had been in the habit of visiting her father about over and over again, and such as had resulted in the intimacy which made him a welcome guest at the house.
She thought differently, however; and though she assumed surprise, she was in nowise startled when her father returned.
“I say, Nelly!” he exclaimed, looking annoyed, and completely off his balance, “what the dickens have you been about?”
“About, papa?” said the girl, raising her eyebrows, “I don’t understand you!”
“Then the sooner you do the better! I’ve quite enough to worry me without your foolery! Here’s the Rajah come to see me on business.”
“Very well, papa, I don’t understand business,” she said, quietly.
“But you’ll have to understand it!” he cried, angrily. “Here, he says that you have been giving him permission to speak to me; and as far as I can understand him, he proposes for your hand!”
“The Rajah, papa! Oh! absurd!”
“Oh, yes, it’s absurd enough, confound his copper-coloured insolence! But it puts me in a fix with him. If I offend him, I shall offend his people, or he’ll make them offended, and I shall be a heavy loser. Did you tell him to speak to me?”
“Certainly not, papa!”
“Perhaps I misunderstood him, for he speaks horrible English. But whether or no, he proposes that you shall be his wife.”
“His wife, papa! Why, he has a dozen!”
“Yes, my dear, of course; but then these fellows don’t take that into consideration. What the deuce am I to do?”
“Tell him it is an insult to an English lady to propose such a thing!” said Helen, haughtily.
“Yes, that’s easily said; but you must have been leading the fellow on.”
“He was your guest, papa, and I was civil to him,” said Helen, coldly.
“A deal too civil, I’ll be bound! I’m sick of your civilities, Nell, and their consequences! Why can’t you get engaged like any other girl? I wish to goodness you were married and settled!”
“Thank you, papa,” she replied in the same cold, indifferent manner.
“Yes, but this fellow’s waiting to see you. What am I to say.”
“What are you to say, papa? Really you ought to know!”
“But it’s impossible for you to accept him, though he is very rich.”
“Quite impossible, papa!”
“Then he’ll be offended.”
“Well, papa, that is not of much consequence.”
“But it is of consequence—of great consequence! Don’t I tell you it will cause me serious loss; and besides that, it is dangerous to affront a fellow like this. He is only a nigger, of course, but he is a reigning prince, and has great power. He’s as proud as Lucifer; and if he considers that he is affronted, there’s no knowing what may be the consequences.”
“He may carry me off perhaps, papa,” said Helen, showing her white teeth.
“Well, I wouldn’t say that he might not attempt it!”
“Like a baron of old,” said the girl scornfully. “Papa, I am not a child! How can you be so absurd?”
“You can call it what you like,” he said angrily; “but your folly has got us into a pretty mess. Well, you must go in and see him.”
“I? Go in and see him?” cried Helen, flushing. “Impossible, papa!”
“But it is not impossible. I told him I didn’t know what to say till I had seen you, and, what was the perfect truth, that I was quite taken by surprise. Now the best thing will be for you to go in and see him and temporise with him. Don’t refuse him out and out, but try and ease him off, as one may say. Gain time, and the fellow will forget all about it in a month or two.”
“Papa!”
“Ah, you may say—papa; but you have got me into a terrible muddle, and now you must help to get me out of it. I must not have this fellow offended. Confound the insolent scoundrel! Just like the savage. He learns to wear English clothes, and then thinks he is a gentleman, and insults us with this proposal.”
“Yes; insults us papa: that is the word!” cried Helen, with spirit.
“Well, time’s flying, and he is waiting, so go and see him at once, and get it over.”
“But I tell you, papa, I cannot. It is impossible!”
“Why, you were talking to him for long enough last night in the drawing-room. Now, come, Helen, don’t be ridiculous, but go and do as I tell you; and the sooner it is done the better.”
Helen Perowne pressed her lips tightly together, and a look came into her face that betokened obstinate determination of the straightest kind.
“Papa, you make matters worse,” she cried, “by proposing such a degrading task to me. This man is, as you say, little better than a savage. His proposal is an insult, and yet you wish me to go and see him. It is impossible!”
“Don’t I tell you that I have business arrangements with the fellow, and that I can’t afford to lose his custom? And don’t I tell you that, situated as we are here amongst these people, it is not wise to make them our enemies. I don’t want you to snub him. It is only for prudential reasons. Now, come; get it over.”
“I cannot see him! I will not see him!” cried Helen, passionately; and she turned pale now at the idea of encountering the passionate young Malay. For the moment she bitterly regretted her folly, though the chances are that if circumstances tended in that direction she would have behaved again in precisely the same way.
“Now look here, Nelly,” said Mr Perowne, “you must see him!”
For answer she paused for a moment, and then walked straight to the door.
“That’s right,” he said. “Temporise with him a bit, my dear, and let him down gently.”
Helen stood with the door in her hand, and darted at him an imperious look; then she passed through, and the door swung to behind her.
“Confound him! What insolence!” muttered Mr Perowne, as he stood listening. “Eh? No; she wouldn’t dare! Why, confound the girl, she has gone up to her room and locked herself in! What a temper she has got to be sure!”
He gave his head a vicious rub, and then, evidently under the impression that it was in vain to appeal again to his child, he snapped his teeth together sharply, and walked firmly into the drawing-room, where the Rajah stood impatiently waiting his return.
The young eastern prince was most carefully dressed; his morning coat and trousers being from a West-end tailor, and his hands were covered with the tightest of lemon-coloured gloves. In one hand was a grey tall hat, in the other the thinnest of umbrellas. Altogether his appearance was unexceptionable, if he had dispensed with the gaudy silken sarong ablaze with a plaid of green, yellow, and scarlet.
His thick lips were wreathed in a pleasant smile, and his dark, full eyes were half closed; but they opened widely for an instant, and seemed to emit anger in one flash, as he saw that Mr Perowne came back alone.
“Where—is—miss?” he said, in a slow, thick tone.
“Well, the fact is, Rajah,” said Mr Perowne, giving a laugh to clear his throat, “I have seen my daughter, and she asked me to tell you that she is suffering from a bad headache. You understand me?”
The young Rajah nodded, his eyes seeming to contract the while.
“She is of course very much flattered by your proposal—one which she says she will think over most carefully; but she is so surprised, that she can only ask you to give her time. I see you understand me?”
The Rajah nodded again in a quick, eager way.
“English girls do not sayyeaall at once to a proposal like yours; and if you will wait a few months—of course being good friends all the time—we shall be able to speak more about the subject.”
Mr Perowne, merchant, and man of the world, meant to say all this in a quick, matter-of-fact, frank way, but he stumbled, and spoke in a halting, lame fashion, growing more and more unsatisfactory as the young Malay prince came closer to him.
“I—I think you understand me,” he said, feeling called upon to say something, as the Malay glared at him as if about to spring.
“Yes—yes!” hissed the Malay. “Lies—all lies! I came for friend. You mock—you laugh in my face—but you do not know. I say I came for friend—I go away—enemy!”
He went on speaking rapidly in the Malay tongue, his rage seeming to be the more concentrated from the cold, cutting tone he adopted. Then, nearly closing his eyes, and giving his peculiar type of features a crafty, cat-like aspect, he gazed furiously at the merchant for a few minutes, and then turned, and seemed to creep from the house in a way that was as feline as his looks.
Volume One—Chapter Twenty One.Taking Alarm.Mr Perowne drew his handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped the dew from his forehead.“Good Heavens!” he ejaculated, “they assassinated poor Rodrick, and here is that girl only home for a few weeks, and a shock like this to come upon me! Surely I’ve troubles enough on hand without a worry like this!”He walked to the window and saw the Malay prince entering his boat by the landing-place, where it was pushed off and pulled into mid-stream by a dozen stout rowers.“The man’s mad with passion,” muttered Mr Perowne. “I would not have had it happen for all I possess. Women always were at the bottom of every bit of mischief, but I did not expect Helen would begin so soon.”He had another look at the Rajah’s handsome boat, which took the place of a carriage in that roadless place, and saw that the Malay prince had turned and was gazing back.“I don’t know what’s to be the end of all this, and—Oh, Harley! is that you? Come in.”The Resident, looking rather troubled and anxious, came in through the veranda, gazing sharply at Mr Perowne.“What has the Rajah been here for this morning?”“What has he been here for?” cried Mr Perowne, angrily, and glad of someone upon whom he could let off a little of his rage. “Why, to do what you ought to have done in a downright way. I gave you leave, and you have done nothing but play with her.”“He has not been to propose for Helen’s hand?”“Indeed, but he has.”“How unfortunate! I did not know that matters had gone so far as that?”“Nor I neither. I knew she was flirting a bit, confound her. Did you meet him?”“Yes, and he would not speak. I saw something was wrong from his savage manner.”“Perhaps he thought you had come up to propose, eh? Had you?”“Not exactly,” said the Resident, looking very serious.“Because if you had, you ought to have come before,” said Mr Perowne, biting his nails.“I came to remonstrate with Helen, after seeing Mrs Bolter this morning.”“Hang Mrs Bolter for a meddling little fool,” cried the merchant.“She drew my attention to the serious dangers that might ensue if Helen led this man on. I ought to have foreseen it, but I did not, and that’s the most troublous part of it. I ought to have known better,” cried the Resident, biting his lips.“Oh, it’s very easy to talk,” said Mr Perowne, whose previous night’s blandness seemed to be quite gone, to leave a weak, querulous childishness in its place.“Knowing what I do of the Malay character, Perowne, I ought to have watched her, but I confess I was so wrapped up in my own feelings that I did not think.”“I thought you wanted to marry her, I gave you my consent at once. I told you nothing would please me better,” continued the father, querulously; “but ever since you both landed you seem to have done nothing but shilly-shally.”“Don’t talk like that, Perowne,” said the Resident, impatiently. “A man does not take a wife like you make a bargain. I want to win her love as well as have her hand.”“And you hang back—I’ve seen you—and let these other fellows cut you out. Hilton and Chumbley, and then this Rajah. I say—I must say, Harley, it is much too bad.”“Yes, yes, I have done as you say; but I had a reason for it, Perowne, I had indeed; but I find I can manage natives better than a beautiful girl. If I had foreseen—”“If I had foreseen it,” cried Perowne, interrupting, “I’d have had her kept in England. Confound the girl!”“It never occurred to me,” said the Resident, “though it ought, that danger might arise from her flirtations.”“Danger! Why I shall lose thousands!” cried Perowne. “The fellow will never forgive me, and throw endless obstacles in my way with his people.”“Helen refused him, of course?” said the Resident.“Of course—of course,” said the merchant, pettishly.“I blame myself deeply for not being more observant,” said the Resident. “Others have seen what I failed to see, and it was always so. Lookers-on see most of the game; but I am awake to the danger now.”“Danger? danger?” said Perowne, looking up now in a startled way. “Do you think there is danger? I hope not; but we ought to be prepared. What do you think it will be best to do?”“See Hilton, and tell him to double all guards; fill your revolver with cartridges; and be always on the alert. We must make no show of begin in danger, but go on as usual, while reinforcements are quietly sent for from Singapore.”“Do—do you think it will be as bad as that?”“Worse, for aught I know,” said the Resident, bitterly. “That fellow, with all his smoothness and French polish, may turn out, now he is thwarted, a perfect demon. Perowne, we have contrived to make him our bitterest foe.”“But—but it couldn’t be helped, Harley,” said Perowne, in an apologetic tone. “Helen could not—”“Suppose you leave Miss Perowne’s name out of the question, Mr Perowne,” said the Resident, sternly. “I’ll go on and see Hilton now, and we must do the best we can.”
Mr Perowne drew his handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped the dew from his forehead.
“Good Heavens!” he ejaculated, “they assassinated poor Rodrick, and here is that girl only home for a few weeks, and a shock like this to come upon me! Surely I’ve troubles enough on hand without a worry like this!”
He walked to the window and saw the Malay prince entering his boat by the landing-place, where it was pushed off and pulled into mid-stream by a dozen stout rowers.
“The man’s mad with passion,” muttered Mr Perowne. “I would not have had it happen for all I possess. Women always were at the bottom of every bit of mischief, but I did not expect Helen would begin so soon.”
He had another look at the Rajah’s handsome boat, which took the place of a carriage in that roadless place, and saw that the Malay prince had turned and was gazing back.
“I don’t know what’s to be the end of all this, and—Oh, Harley! is that you? Come in.”
The Resident, looking rather troubled and anxious, came in through the veranda, gazing sharply at Mr Perowne.
“What has the Rajah been here for this morning?”
“What has he been here for?” cried Mr Perowne, angrily, and glad of someone upon whom he could let off a little of his rage. “Why, to do what you ought to have done in a downright way. I gave you leave, and you have done nothing but play with her.”
“He has not been to propose for Helen’s hand?”
“Indeed, but he has.”
“How unfortunate! I did not know that matters had gone so far as that?”
“Nor I neither. I knew she was flirting a bit, confound her. Did you meet him?”
“Yes, and he would not speak. I saw something was wrong from his savage manner.”
“Perhaps he thought you had come up to propose, eh? Had you?”
“Not exactly,” said the Resident, looking very serious.
“Because if you had, you ought to have come before,” said Mr Perowne, biting his nails.
“I came to remonstrate with Helen, after seeing Mrs Bolter this morning.”
“Hang Mrs Bolter for a meddling little fool,” cried the merchant.
“She drew my attention to the serious dangers that might ensue if Helen led this man on. I ought to have foreseen it, but I did not, and that’s the most troublous part of it. I ought to have known better,” cried the Resident, biting his lips.
“Oh, it’s very easy to talk,” said Mr Perowne, whose previous night’s blandness seemed to be quite gone, to leave a weak, querulous childishness in its place.
“Knowing what I do of the Malay character, Perowne, I ought to have watched her, but I confess I was so wrapped up in my own feelings that I did not think.”
“I thought you wanted to marry her, I gave you my consent at once. I told you nothing would please me better,” continued the father, querulously; “but ever since you both landed you seem to have done nothing but shilly-shally.”
“Don’t talk like that, Perowne,” said the Resident, impatiently. “A man does not take a wife like you make a bargain. I want to win her love as well as have her hand.”
“And you hang back—I’ve seen you—and let these other fellows cut you out. Hilton and Chumbley, and then this Rajah. I say—I must say, Harley, it is much too bad.”
“Yes, yes, I have done as you say; but I had a reason for it, Perowne, I had indeed; but I find I can manage natives better than a beautiful girl. If I had foreseen—”
“If I had foreseen it,” cried Perowne, interrupting, “I’d have had her kept in England. Confound the girl!”
“It never occurred to me,” said the Resident, “though it ought, that danger might arise from her flirtations.”
“Danger! Why I shall lose thousands!” cried Perowne. “The fellow will never forgive me, and throw endless obstacles in my way with his people.”
“Helen refused him, of course?” said the Resident.
“Of course—of course,” said the merchant, pettishly.
“I blame myself deeply for not being more observant,” said the Resident. “Others have seen what I failed to see, and it was always so. Lookers-on see most of the game; but I am awake to the danger now.”
“Danger? danger?” said Perowne, looking up now in a startled way. “Do you think there is danger? I hope not; but we ought to be prepared. What do you think it will be best to do?”
“See Hilton, and tell him to double all guards; fill your revolver with cartridges; and be always on the alert. We must make no show of begin in danger, but go on as usual, while reinforcements are quietly sent for from Singapore.”
“Do—do you think it will be as bad as that?”
“Worse, for aught I know,” said the Resident, bitterly. “That fellow, with all his smoothness and French polish, may turn out, now he is thwarted, a perfect demon. Perowne, we have contrived to make him our bitterest foe.”
“But—but it couldn’t be helped, Harley,” said Perowne, in an apologetic tone. “Helen could not—”
“Suppose you leave Miss Perowne’s name out of the question, Mr Perowne,” said the Resident, sternly. “I’ll go on and see Hilton now, and we must do the best we can.”
Volume One—Chapter Twenty Two.Mrs Bolter at Home.It cannot be denied that Mrs Bolter’s mature little heart had developed, with an intense love and admiration of her lord, a good deal of acidity, such as made her jealous, exacting, and tyrannical to a degree.Let it not be supposed, however, that the doctor was unhappy. Quite the contrary; he seemed to enjoy his tyrant’s rule, and to go on peaceably enough, letting her dictate, order, and check him at her own sweet will.“There’s no doubt about it,” chuckled the little doctor to himself, “she’s as jealous as Othello, and watches me like an—an—an—well—say eagle,” he said, quite at a loss for a simile. “I don’t mind, bless her! Shows how fond she has grown; and I suppose it must be worrying to the dear little woman to have first one and then another lady sending for me. I don’t wonder at her asking me what they wanted. I shouldn’t like it if gentlemen were always sending for her.”Dr Bolter had been indulging in a similar strain to this, when, after making up a few quinine powders in his tiny surgery, he went into the room where his little wife was in conversation with her brother.“Ah, Arthur!” said the doctor, “how are you getting on with folks?”“Very pleasantly,” said the chaplain, smiling. “I find everybody kind and genial.”“That’s right,” said the doctor, rubbing his hands and smiling at his wife, who frowned at him severely, and then let her pleasant face break up in dimples. “I want you both to enjoy the place. Don’t be afraid of visiting. They like it. Stir them up well, and make yourself quite at home with everybody. This isn’t England.”“No,” said the Reverend Arthur, smiling; “I find the difference.”“I say, old boy,” continued the doctor, “I was in the fort yesterday, talking to some of the men. They say they like your preaching.”“I am very glad, Harry,” said the chaplain, simply. “I was afraid that I was rather wandering sometimes in my discourse.”“No, no; just what they like, old fellow! Simple and matter of fact. What they can understand. Going?”“Yes; I am going across to see Mr Harley.”“Ah! do. Good fellow, Harley! Don’t make any mistakes though, and step into the river instead of the sampan.”“Is there any danger, Henry?” exclaimed Mrs Doctor, sharply.“Not the least, my dear; only Arthur here is a little dreamy sometimes.”“I’d go with him,” said Mrs Bolter decidedly, “only I want to talk to you, Henry.”“Phee-ew!” whistled the doctor, softly, “here’s a breeze coming;” and he looked furtively at his wife to see what she meant.She walked with her brother to the door, bade him be careful, and then returned.“Now look here, Dr Bolter,” she said severely, “I am the last woman in the world to find fault, but I am your wife.”“You are, my dear Mary, and the very, very best of wives!”“That’s base flattery, sir,” said the little lady, who, however, looked pleased.“Flattery? No! One never flatters one’s wife.”“How do you know, sir?” cried Mrs Bolter, sharply.“From what one reads, Mary. I never had a wife before; and I never flatter you.”“No, sir, but you try something else; and I tell you I will not submit to be imposed upon!”“I’m sure, my dear, I never impose upon you.”“Indeed, sir; then what is this you propose doing? Why do you want to go away for three days?”“Collecting, my dear.”“Without Arthur? Now look here, Bolter, the very fact of your wanting to go collecting without Arthur, whom you always talk about as being a brother naturalist, looks suspicious.”“Indeed, my dear, I do want to go collecting.”“Collecting? Rubbish!”“No, my dear, it is not. I’m afraid you will never realise the value of my specimens.”“You are going collecting, then?” said Mrs Doctor.“Yes, my dear.”“Without Arthur?”“Yes; he does not get on very well in the jungle; and he is rather awkward in a boat.”“Then I shall go with you myself,” said the little lady, decidedly.“You—you go with me, Mary,” he said, staring.“Yes, certainly.”“But the thorns, and mud, and heat, and mosquitoes, my dear?”“If they will not hurt you, Henry, they will not hurt me,” said the little lady.“But they would hurt you, my dear. Of course I should like to have you, but it would be impossible! I shall only be away three days.”“But the place is full of old stones and skins that smell atrociously, and wretched flies and beetles with pins stuck through their bodies, and I’m sure I can’t think why you want more.”“For the learned societies in London, my dear. You forget that I am a corresponding member to several.”“Oh, no, I don’t,” said Mrs Bolter. “I don’t forget that you make it an excuse for sitting up all night smoking and drinking cold whiskey and water, sir, because you have writing to do instead of coming to bed.”The doctor shrugged his shoulders.“My dear,” he said, “you would be a perfect woman if you only cared for science.”“You never said a word to me, sir, about caring for science when I consented to come out with you to this dreadful, hot, damp place, where everything that does not turn mouldy is eaten by ants.”“The damp and the ants are great nuisances, my dear,” said the doctor. “They have destroyed numbers of my best specimens.”“They have destroyed my beautiful piano that I was foolish enough to bring out,” said Mrs Bolter. “Grey Stuart opened it yesterday, and the damp has melted the glue, and the ants have eaten up all the leather of the hammers. The wires are rusty, and the instrument is totally spoiled.”“Never mind, my dear, so long as the climate does not affect your constitution,” said the doctor, cheerfully.“Oh, by the way,” said Mrs Bolter, “that reminds me of two things. First of all, Bolter, I will not have you so fond of talking to the young ladies at the dinner parties to which we go. You remember what I said to you about your conduct with Miss Morrison?”“Yes, my dear, perfectly,” said the doctor, with a sigh.“Secondly, about medicine. Now, it is of no use for you to deny it, for I feel as sure as can be that you have been giving me some medicine on the sly these last few days.”“Why, my darling!” cried the doctor.“It is of no use for you to put on that injured expression, Henry, because I know; and mind this, I don’t accuse you of trying to poison me, but of trying experiments with new-fangled drugs, and I tell you I won’t have it.”The doctor protested his innocence, but the lady was not convinced; and apparently under the impression that it would be as well to submit, he allowed her to go on till she reached the top of her bent, when she suddenly changed the topic.“Ah, there was something else I wanted to say to you,” she said sharply. “How about Helen Perowne?”This was too much for the doctor’s equanimity, and he gave the table a bang with his fist.“I declare it’s too bad,” he exclaimed, wrathfully now. He had submitted to all that had been said before with a few protestations and shrugs of the shoulders, but now he fired up. “I have never hardly said a civil word to the girl in my life, for I protest that I utterly detest the handsome, heartless, coquettish creature. Of all the unjust women I ever met, Mary, you are about the worst.”A casual observer would have set Mrs Doctor Bolter down as an extremely prejudiced, suspicious woman of a highly-jealous temperament; but then a casual observer would not have known her real nature.If he had seen her now, as she sank back in her chair, and the pleasant dimples and puckers came into her face, he would have understood much better how it was that the doctor had persuaded her to leave her maiden state to come and share his lot.For as the doctor turned redder in the face and then purple, she smiled and shook a little round white finger at him.“A guilty conscience needs no accuser,” she said. “I never accused you, sir, of flirting with Helen Perowne; but as soon as I mentioned her name you began to defend yourself.”“I don’t care,” cried the doctor, “I confess I have said complimentary and pleasant things to all the ladies of the station, both old and young; not that they think anything of it, for I’m only the doctor; while as to Helen Perowne, last time her father asked me to see and prescribe for her, and she began to make eyes at me, and put forth her blandishments—”“Oh, you confess that, sir?”“Confess it?” cried the doctor, stoutly. “Why she does that to every man she sees! I believe if her father took her to Madame Tussaud’s—You remember my taking you to Madame Tussaud’s, my dear?”“Oh, yes, I remember,” said Mrs Bolter.“Well, I honestly believe that if she were taken there she’d begin making eyes at the wax figures.”“Indeed!” said Mrs Bolter, stiffly. “And so she began to make eyes at you!”“That she did, the jade,” said the doctor, chuckling, “and—and—ha, ha, ha—ho, ho, ho! don’t—ha, ha, ha!—say a word about it, my dear—there was nothing the matter with her but young girl’s whimsical fancies; and she made me so cross with her fads and languishing airs, and then by making such a dead set at me, that I—ha, ha, ha—ho, ho, ho—”“Bolter,” exclaimed Mrs B, “if you confess to me that you kissed her I’ll have a divorce—I’ll go straight back to England?”“Kiss her? Not I!—ho, ho, ho!—I gave her such a dose; and I kept her extremely poorly for about a week. She—she hates me like she does physic. Oh, dear me!”The doctor wiped his eyes, burst into another fit of laughing, and then, after another wipe at his eyes, his face smoothed down and he grew composed.“Then it’s a pity you don’t give her another dose of medicine,” said his lady, “and prevent her doing so much mischief as she is doing here.”“But really, my dear, you have no right to accuse me of being extra polite to Helen Perowne.”“I did not, and I was not about to accuse you of being extra polite to Helen Perowne—extra polite, as you call it, sir; but I was about to connect her name with that of other gentlemen, and not with that of my husband.”“Oh! come, that’s a comfort,” said the doctor. “What is it then about Helen Perowne?”“I don’t like the way in which she is going on,” said Mrs Doctor, “and I am quite sure that no good will come of it. I don’t think there is any real harm in the girl.”“Harm? No, I don’t think there is,” said Dr Bolter. “She’s very handsome, and she has been spoiled by flattery.”“Administered by foolish men like someone we know,” said the lady.“H’m! yes—well, perhaps so; but really she is too bad. The fellows seem to run mad after her.”“Did you see her talking to the Rajah last night?”“Yes, I saw her; and then poor Hilton began to singe his wings in the candle, and next week she will have somebody else. I know what I’d do if I had to prescribe for her.”“And what might that be, sir?”“I’d prescribe a husband, such a one as Harley—a firm, strong-minded, middle-aged man, who would keep a tight hand at the rein and bring her to her senses. I daresay she’d make a man a good wife, after all.”“Perhaps so,” said Mrs Doctor, pursing up her lips; “but meantime, as you are not called upon to prescribe, what is to be done?”“To be done? Why, nothing.”“Oh! but something must be done, Bolter. You ought to speak to Mr Perowne.”“And be called an idiot for my pains. No, thank you, my dear. In all such delicate matters as these a lady’s hand—I should say, tongue—is the instrument to set matters right. Now, I should say the proper thing would be for a quiet, sensible, clever, middle-aged lady—may I speak of you as a middle-aged lady, my dear—”“Don’t be stupid, Henry. I’m forty-four, as you well know, and I never pretended to be younger.”“No, of course not. You fired forty years at me in a platoon when I proposed, like the dear, sensible old darling you are.”“Tut! Hush! Silence, sir! No more of that, please.”“All right, my dear. Well, as I was saying, suppose you have a quiet talk to the girl yourself.”Mrs Bolter knitted her brows and looked very thoughtful.“I don’t know,” she said. “It might do good, or it might not. I will think about it.”“And about my going away for three days, my dear.”“Oh, one moment, Henry,” said Mrs Doctor. “There was something else I wished to ascertain.”“What, another something else?” groaned the doctor.“Yes, another something else, sir. You promised me, that if you could not quite check that terrible habit of yours of talking about Ophir and King Solomon, that you would modify it.”“Yes, my dear,” said the doctor, giving his ear a rub, and accompanying it by a submissive look.“I heard you last night exciting the ridicule of all the gentlemen by your pertinacious declarations regarding that mythical idea.”“Don’t say ridicule, my dear.”“But I do say ridicule, Henry, and I object to having my husband laughed at by ignorant people—he being a very clever man. So be careful in the future. Now you may go.”“For three days, my dear?”“Yes; and pray take care of yourself.”“I will, my darling,” he cried, in delight; and he was about to embrace the lady warmly, when a step was heard in the veranda, and a voice exclaiming:“May I come in?”
It cannot be denied that Mrs Bolter’s mature little heart had developed, with an intense love and admiration of her lord, a good deal of acidity, such as made her jealous, exacting, and tyrannical to a degree.
Let it not be supposed, however, that the doctor was unhappy. Quite the contrary; he seemed to enjoy his tyrant’s rule, and to go on peaceably enough, letting her dictate, order, and check him at her own sweet will.
“There’s no doubt about it,” chuckled the little doctor to himself, “she’s as jealous as Othello, and watches me like an—an—an—well—say eagle,” he said, quite at a loss for a simile. “I don’t mind, bless her! Shows how fond she has grown; and I suppose it must be worrying to the dear little woman to have first one and then another lady sending for me. I don’t wonder at her asking me what they wanted. I shouldn’t like it if gentlemen were always sending for her.”
Dr Bolter had been indulging in a similar strain to this, when, after making up a few quinine powders in his tiny surgery, he went into the room where his little wife was in conversation with her brother.
“Ah, Arthur!” said the doctor, “how are you getting on with folks?”
“Very pleasantly,” said the chaplain, smiling. “I find everybody kind and genial.”
“That’s right,” said the doctor, rubbing his hands and smiling at his wife, who frowned at him severely, and then let her pleasant face break up in dimples. “I want you both to enjoy the place. Don’t be afraid of visiting. They like it. Stir them up well, and make yourself quite at home with everybody. This isn’t England.”
“No,” said the Reverend Arthur, smiling; “I find the difference.”
“I say, old boy,” continued the doctor, “I was in the fort yesterday, talking to some of the men. They say they like your preaching.”
“I am very glad, Harry,” said the chaplain, simply. “I was afraid that I was rather wandering sometimes in my discourse.”
“No, no; just what they like, old fellow! Simple and matter of fact. What they can understand. Going?”
“Yes; I am going across to see Mr Harley.”
“Ah! do. Good fellow, Harley! Don’t make any mistakes though, and step into the river instead of the sampan.”
“Is there any danger, Henry?” exclaimed Mrs Doctor, sharply.
“Not the least, my dear; only Arthur here is a little dreamy sometimes.”
“I’d go with him,” said Mrs Bolter decidedly, “only I want to talk to you, Henry.”
“Phee-ew!” whistled the doctor, softly, “here’s a breeze coming;” and he looked furtively at his wife to see what she meant.
She walked with her brother to the door, bade him be careful, and then returned.
“Now look here, Dr Bolter,” she said severely, “I am the last woman in the world to find fault, but I am your wife.”
“You are, my dear Mary, and the very, very best of wives!”
“That’s base flattery, sir,” said the little lady, who, however, looked pleased.
“Flattery? No! One never flatters one’s wife.”
“How do you know, sir?” cried Mrs Bolter, sharply.
“From what one reads, Mary. I never had a wife before; and I never flatter you.”
“No, sir, but you try something else; and I tell you I will not submit to be imposed upon!”
“I’m sure, my dear, I never impose upon you.”
“Indeed, sir; then what is this you propose doing? Why do you want to go away for three days?”
“Collecting, my dear.”
“Without Arthur? Now look here, Bolter, the very fact of your wanting to go collecting without Arthur, whom you always talk about as being a brother naturalist, looks suspicious.”
“Indeed, my dear, I do want to go collecting.”
“Collecting? Rubbish!”
“No, my dear, it is not. I’m afraid you will never realise the value of my specimens.”
“You are going collecting, then?” said Mrs Doctor.
“Yes, my dear.”
“Without Arthur?”
“Yes; he does not get on very well in the jungle; and he is rather awkward in a boat.”
“Then I shall go with you myself,” said the little lady, decidedly.
“You—you go with me, Mary,” he said, staring.
“Yes, certainly.”
“But the thorns, and mud, and heat, and mosquitoes, my dear?”
“If they will not hurt you, Henry, they will not hurt me,” said the little lady.
“But they would hurt you, my dear. Of course I should like to have you, but it would be impossible! I shall only be away three days.”
“But the place is full of old stones and skins that smell atrociously, and wretched flies and beetles with pins stuck through their bodies, and I’m sure I can’t think why you want more.”
“For the learned societies in London, my dear. You forget that I am a corresponding member to several.”
“Oh, no, I don’t,” said Mrs Bolter. “I don’t forget that you make it an excuse for sitting up all night smoking and drinking cold whiskey and water, sir, because you have writing to do instead of coming to bed.”
The doctor shrugged his shoulders.
“My dear,” he said, “you would be a perfect woman if you only cared for science.”
“You never said a word to me, sir, about caring for science when I consented to come out with you to this dreadful, hot, damp place, where everything that does not turn mouldy is eaten by ants.”
“The damp and the ants are great nuisances, my dear,” said the doctor. “They have destroyed numbers of my best specimens.”
“They have destroyed my beautiful piano that I was foolish enough to bring out,” said Mrs Bolter. “Grey Stuart opened it yesterday, and the damp has melted the glue, and the ants have eaten up all the leather of the hammers. The wires are rusty, and the instrument is totally spoiled.”
“Never mind, my dear, so long as the climate does not affect your constitution,” said the doctor, cheerfully.
“Oh, by the way,” said Mrs Bolter, “that reminds me of two things. First of all, Bolter, I will not have you so fond of talking to the young ladies at the dinner parties to which we go. You remember what I said to you about your conduct with Miss Morrison?”
“Yes, my dear, perfectly,” said the doctor, with a sigh.
“Secondly, about medicine. Now, it is of no use for you to deny it, for I feel as sure as can be that you have been giving me some medicine on the sly these last few days.”
“Why, my darling!” cried the doctor.
“It is of no use for you to put on that injured expression, Henry, because I know; and mind this, I don’t accuse you of trying to poison me, but of trying experiments with new-fangled drugs, and I tell you I won’t have it.”
The doctor protested his innocence, but the lady was not convinced; and apparently under the impression that it would be as well to submit, he allowed her to go on till she reached the top of her bent, when she suddenly changed the topic.
“Ah, there was something else I wanted to say to you,” she said sharply. “How about Helen Perowne?”
This was too much for the doctor’s equanimity, and he gave the table a bang with his fist.
“I declare it’s too bad,” he exclaimed, wrathfully now. He had submitted to all that had been said before with a few protestations and shrugs of the shoulders, but now he fired up. “I have never hardly said a civil word to the girl in my life, for I protest that I utterly detest the handsome, heartless, coquettish creature. Of all the unjust women I ever met, Mary, you are about the worst.”
A casual observer would have set Mrs Doctor Bolter down as an extremely prejudiced, suspicious woman of a highly-jealous temperament; but then a casual observer would not have known her real nature.
If he had seen her now, as she sank back in her chair, and the pleasant dimples and puckers came into her face, he would have understood much better how it was that the doctor had persuaded her to leave her maiden state to come and share his lot.
For as the doctor turned redder in the face and then purple, she smiled and shook a little round white finger at him.
“A guilty conscience needs no accuser,” she said. “I never accused you, sir, of flirting with Helen Perowne; but as soon as I mentioned her name you began to defend yourself.”
“I don’t care,” cried the doctor, “I confess I have said complimentary and pleasant things to all the ladies of the station, both old and young; not that they think anything of it, for I’m only the doctor; while as to Helen Perowne, last time her father asked me to see and prescribe for her, and she began to make eyes at me, and put forth her blandishments—”
“Oh, you confess that, sir?”
“Confess it?” cried the doctor, stoutly. “Why she does that to every man she sees! I believe if her father took her to Madame Tussaud’s—You remember my taking you to Madame Tussaud’s, my dear?”
“Oh, yes, I remember,” said Mrs Bolter.
“Well, I honestly believe that if she were taken there she’d begin making eyes at the wax figures.”
“Indeed!” said Mrs Bolter, stiffly. “And so she began to make eyes at you!”
“That she did, the jade,” said the doctor, chuckling, “and—and—ha, ha, ha—ho, ho, ho! don’t—ha, ha, ha!—say a word about it, my dear—there was nothing the matter with her but young girl’s whimsical fancies; and she made me so cross with her fads and languishing airs, and then by making such a dead set at me, that I—ha, ha, ha—ho, ho, ho—”
“Bolter,” exclaimed Mrs B, “if you confess to me that you kissed her I’ll have a divorce—I’ll go straight back to England?”
“Kiss her? Not I!—ho, ho, ho!—I gave her such a dose; and I kept her extremely poorly for about a week. She—she hates me like she does physic. Oh, dear me!”
The doctor wiped his eyes, burst into another fit of laughing, and then, after another wipe at his eyes, his face smoothed down and he grew composed.
“Then it’s a pity you don’t give her another dose of medicine,” said his lady, “and prevent her doing so much mischief as she is doing here.”
“But really, my dear, you have no right to accuse me of being extra polite to Helen Perowne.”
“I did not, and I was not about to accuse you of being extra polite to Helen Perowne—extra polite, as you call it, sir; but I was about to connect her name with that of other gentlemen, and not with that of my husband.”
“Oh! come, that’s a comfort,” said the doctor. “What is it then about Helen Perowne?”
“I don’t like the way in which she is going on,” said Mrs Doctor, “and I am quite sure that no good will come of it. I don’t think there is any real harm in the girl.”
“Harm? No, I don’t think there is,” said Dr Bolter. “She’s very handsome, and she has been spoiled by flattery.”
“Administered by foolish men like someone we know,” said the lady.
“H’m! yes—well, perhaps so; but really she is too bad. The fellows seem to run mad after her.”
“Did you see her talking to the Rajah last night?”
“Yes, I saw her; and then poor Hilton began to singe his wings in the candle, and next week she will have somebody else. I know what I’d do if I had to prescribe for her.”
“And what might that be, sir?”
“I’d prescribe a husband, such a one as Harley—a firm, strong-minded, middle-aged man, who would keep a tight hand at the rein and bring her to her senses. I daresay she’d make a man a good wife, after all.”
“Perhaps so,” said Mrs Doctor, pursing up her lips; “but meantime, as you are not called upon to prescribe, what is to be done?”
“To be done? Why, nothing.”
“Oh! but something must be done, Bolter. You ought to speak to Mr Perowne.”
“And be called an idiot for my pains. No, thank you, my dear. In all such delicate matters as these a lady’s hand—I should say, tongue—is the instrument to set matters right. Now, I should say the proper thing would be for a quiet, sensible, clever, middle-aged lady—may I speak of you as a middle-aged lady, my dear—”
“Don’t be stupid, Henry. I’m forty-four, as you well know, and I never pretended to be younger.”
“No, of course not. You fired forty years at me in a platoon when I proposed, like the dear, sensible old darling you are.”
“Tut! Hush! Silence, sir! No more of that, please.”
“All right, my dear. Well, as I was saying, suppose you have a quiet talk to the girl yourself.”
Mrs Bolter knitted her brows and looked very thoughtful.
“I don’t know,” she said. “It might do good, or it might not. I will think about it.”
“And about my going away for three days, my dear.”
“Oh, one moment, Henry,” said Mrs Doctor. “There was something else I wished to ascertain.”
“What, another something else?” groaned the doctor.
“Yes, another something else, sir. You promised me, that if you could not quite check that terrible habit of yours of talking about Ophir and King Solomon, that you would modify it.”
“Yes, my dear,” said the doctor, giving his ear a rub, and accompanying it by a submissive look.
“I heard you last night exciting the ridicule of all the gentlemen by your pertinacious declarations regarding that mythical idea.”
“Don’t say ridicule, my dear.”
“But I do say ridicule, Henry, and I object to having my husband laughed at by ignorant people—he being a very clever man. So be careful in the future. Now you may go.”
“For three days, my dear?”
“Yes; and pray take care of yourself.”
“I will, my darling,” he cried, in delight; and he was about to embrace the lady warmly, when a step was heard in the veranda, and a voice exclaiming:
“May I come in?”
Volume One—Chapter Twenty Three.A Little Cloud.“Yes; come in Mr Harley,” and the tall, stern-looking Resident entered the room with the free at-home-ness of people living out at a station where circumstances force the Europeans into the closet intimacy.“Is anything the matter?” exclaimed the doctor’s wife, as she saw his anxious face.“Well, not yet,” he said; “but I must confess to being a little nervous about something that has happened. Don’t go away, Bolter.”“Only going to make a few preparations for a run out. Back directly.”“No, no,” said the Resident; “you would oblige me by staying. I think, Bolter, you will have to give up all thought of going out at present.”“Then something is the matter!” said the doctor.“Oh, it isn’t doctor’s work—at present,” said the Resident, smiling. “The fact is, the Rajah has been hanging about Perowne’s place a good deal lately.”“Yes, we had observed it,” said Mrs Bolter, severely.“And the foolish fellow seems to think he has had a little encouragement from Miss Perowne.”Mrs Doctor nodded and tightened her lips as the Resident went on:“The result is, that he has been to Perowne’s this morning and proposed in due form for her hand.”“Why, the scoundrel has got about a dozen wives,” cried the doctor.“Yes, and of course Perowne tried to smooth him down and to soften the disappointment; but he has gone away furious. I have just come from Perowne’s, and I called to put you on your guard.”“Think there’s any danger?” said the doctor, sharply.“Can’t say. You know what these people are if they do not have their own way.”“Yes,” said the doctor, thoughtfully. “They can be crafty and cruel enough I know; and they don’t love us any better than they did ten years ago, when I was all through the old troubles.”“Of course,” said the Resident, “if there should be any threatening of trouble you will come across to the island till it is over. I would not show that we are at all uneasy, doctor; only be upon one’s guard.”“Yes,” said Mrs Doctor, who had been listening attentively, “that will be best. There may be no trouble over the matter, Mr Harley, and I think we should, as you say, be doing wrong by seeming to be alarmed.”“Then my expedition is quashed for the present,” said the doctor, dolefully.“It can wait, I am sure,” said his lady, quietly; and her lord resigned himself to his fate as the Resident repeated his advice about not spreading the alarm and exciting the natives by whom they were surrounded, and then left them to go to the fort on the Residency island—a picturesque little clump of rocky earth that divided the river into two parts. On mounting upon the bamboo landing-stage the first person he encountered was Captain Hilton.Knowing as he did that the young officer had been very attentive to Helen Perowne of late, he hesitated for a few moments, naturally feeling a repugnance to speak upon such matters to one whom other men would have considered a rival; but after a little thought he laughed to himself.“I am a fatalist,” he muttered, “and I am not afraid. Here, Hilton,” he said, aloud, “I want to speak to you. Ah, there’s Chumbley, too. Don’t take any particular notice,” he continued, as he noted that several of the natives were about. “Have a cigar?”He drew out his case as he spoke, and Lieutenant Chumbley coming sauntering up in his cool, idle way, the case was offered to him, and the three gentlemen went slowly along the well-kept military path towards the little mess-room.“Anything wrong?” said Captain Hilton, eagerly; and as he spoke the Resident saw his eyes turn in the direction of Mr Perowne’s house on the east bank of the river.“Not at present; but the fact is, I am afraid Mr Perowne has seriously affronted the Rajah this morning, and I think it would be as well to be upon our guard.”“Got any more of these cigars, Harley?” said Chumbley, quietly. “I like ’em.”“For Heaven’s sake do hold your tongue, Chumbley!” cried the captain. “I never did see a fellow so cool and indifferent.”“Why not?” replied Chumbley, in his slow drawl. “There’s nothing wrong, only that the Rajah has been to Perowne’s this morning to propose for the fair Helen, and he has come away with a flea in his ear.”“What?” cried Captain Hilton.“How did you know?” exclaimed the Resident, turning upon Chumbley, sharply.“Guessed it—knew it would come from what I saw last night. That’s it, isn’t it?”“Yes, that is it,” replied the Resident, frowning slightly.“The insolence—the consummate ignorant audacity!” cried the captain, his face flushing with anger. “The dog! I’ll horsewhip him till he begs for mercy!”“You will do nothing of the kind, Hilton,” said the Resident quietly.“But it is insufferable,” cried Hilton. “An ignorant, brown-skinned savage to pretend to place himself on a level with gentlemen, and then to dare to propose for an English lady’s hand!”“Don’t be excited, Hilton,” said the Resident, looking fixedly in the young officer’s handsome, angry countenance. “You forget that the Rajah may look down upon us as his inferiors. He is a prince in his own right, and rules over a very large extent of country here.”“Oh, yes, I know all that,” cried Hilton, angrily; “but of course Perowne sent him about his business?”“Yes, and that is why I have come to you. There may be nothing more heard of the matter; but I think it is quite possible that the Rajah may have taken such dire offence that he will force all his people to join in his quarrel, and the result be a serious trouble.”“I hope not,” drawled Chumbley. “I hate fighting.”“Pooh!” ejaculated Hilton. “If the scoundrel gives us any of his insolence, we’ll send him handcuffed to Singapore!”“I should be greatly obliged, Hilton,” said the Resident stiffly, “if you would modify your tone a little. For my part, I am not surprised at the Rajah’s conduct, and I think that it would be better to let our behaviour towards him be conciliating.”“What! to a fellow like that?” cried the captain.“To a man like that,” said the Resident, gravely. “If he behaves badly we are strong enough to resent it; but if, on the other hand, he cools down and acts as a gentleman would under the circumstances, it is our duty to meet him in the most friendly spirit we can.”“I don’t think so,” cried Hilton, hotly, “and if the scoundrel comes to me I shall treat him as he deserves.”“Captain Hilton,” said the Resident, and his voice was now very grave and stern, “I must ask you to bear in mind that we occupy a very delicate position here—I as her Majesty’s representative; and you, with your handful of troops, as my supporters. We are few, living in the midst of many, and we hold our own here, please to recollect, byprestige.”“Of course—yes, I know that,” said Hilton.“Thatprestigewe shall lose if we let our judgment be biased by personal feeling. Kindly set self on one side, as I am striving to do, and help me to the best of your ability by your manly, unselfish advice.”Hilton frowned as the Resident went on; but the next instant he had held out his hand, which the other grasped.“I am afraid I am very hot-headed, Mr Harley,” he exclaimed. “There, it is all over, and I’ll help you to the best of my power. Now then, what’s to be done?”“First accept my thanks,” cried the Resident. “I knew that I could count upon you, Hilton.”“I’ll do my best, Harley.”“Then stroll quietly back to the barracks, and in a matter-of-fact way see that all is in such order that you could bring up your men at a moment’s notice.”“Reinforcements?” suggested Captain Hilton.“I did think of asking for them,” said the Resident, “but on second thoughts it seems hardly necessary. I would do everything without exciting suspicion, and as if you were only inspecting the fort. Now go.”“Right,” said the captain; and he walked away, saying to himself:“He’s a good fellow, Harley, that he is, and he does not bear a bit of malice against me for cutting him out. Poor fellow! he must have felt it bitterly. Hang it all! I could not have borne it. The very fact of this fellow proposing for Helen nearly drove me wild. I think if I were to lose her I should die.”Chumbley was about to follow Hilton, but the Resident laid a hand upon his shoulder.“Of course I can count upon your discretion, Chumbley?” he said.“Oh, yes, I suppose so,” said the young man, “so long as you don’t want anything done in a hurry. Nature seems to forbid a man to be scurried in this climate; but I say, Mr Harley, don’t let’s have a row if you can help it, I’m a soldier, but if there is anything I do abhor, it is fighting. I hate blood. The very idea of having to make our lads use their bayonets gives me a cold chill all down the back.”“Depend upon it we will not have a quarrel with the natives if we can help it, Chumbley. If diplomacy can keep it off, there shall be none;” and nodding his head in a friendly manner to the young officer, he strolled away.“But diplomacy won’t keep it off, my dear sir,” said Chumbley. “If Mother Nature turns loose such a girl as Helen Perowne, to play fast and loose with men like Murad, a row must come.“Let me see,” he said, after a pause, “what shall I do with myself to-day? Best way to avoid scrapes is to keep up friendly relations with the natives.“Oh, what a worry this love-making is! We all go in for it at some time or another, but hang me if I think it pays.“Little Helen quite hates me now, since I’ve broken the string and will not be cajoled into coming back. By Jove! what a wise little girl little Stuart is. One might get up a flirtation there without any heart-breaking. No: won’t do, she’s too sweet, and wise, and sensible. Hang it all, can’t a fellow talk sensibly to a pretty girl without thinking he’s flirting! I like little Stuart. You can talk to her about anything, and she never giggles and blushes, and looks silly. She’s an uncommonly nice young girl, and twenty years hence, when beautiful Helen has grown old, and yellow, and scraggy, Stuart will be a pleasant, soft, amiable little woman, like Mrs Bolter. There’s a woman for you! ’Pon my word I believe she likes me; she talks to me just as if I were a big son.“Well, now, what’s to be done? I’ll go and see if Hilton wants me, and if he doesn’t I shall have a few hours ashore.“By the way, I wonder who’ll marry little Stuart?” he said, as he went slowly on with his hands behind him, his broad chest thrown out, and a bluff, manly bearing about him that would have made an onlooker think that he would not make a bad match for the lady himself.“I shan’t,” he added, after a pause. “Hilton’s a precious idiot not to go for her himself, instead of wasting his time upon a woman who will throw him over. As for me, I’m beginning to think I am not a lady’s man. I’m too big, and clumsy, and stupid. They tolerate me when they don’t laugh at me. Bah! what does it matter? Sport’s my line—and dogs.”
“Yes; come in Mr Harley,” and the tall, stern-looking Resident entered the room with the free at-home-ness of people living out at a station where circumstances force the Europeans into the closet intimacy.
“Is anything the matter?” exclaimed the doctor’s wife, as she saw his anxious face.
“Well, not yet,” he said; “but I must confess to being a little nervous about something that has happened. Don’t go away, Bolter.”
“Only going to make a few preparations for a run out. Back directly.”
“No, no,” said the Resident; “you would oblige me by staying. I think, Bolter, you will have to give up all thought of going out at present.”
“Then something is the matter!” said the doctor.
“Oh, it isn’t doctor’s work—at present,” said the Resident, smiling. “The fact is, the Rajah has been hanging about Perowne’s place a good deal lately.”
“Yes, we had observed it,” said Mrs Bolter, severely.
“And the foolish fellow seems to think he has had a little encouragement from Miss Perowne.”
Mrs Doctor nodded and tightened her lips as the Resident went on:
“The result is, that he has been to Perowne’s this morning and proposed in due form for her hand.”
“Why, the scoundrel has got about a dozen wives,” cried the doctor.
“Yes, and of course Perowne tried to smooth him down and to soften the disappointment; but he has gone away furious. I have just come from Perowne’s, and I called to put you on your guard.”
“Think there’s any danger?” said the doctor, sharply.
“Can’t say. You know what these people are if they do not have their own way.”
“Yes,” said the doctor, thoughtfully. “They can be crafty and cruel enough I know; and they don’t love us any better than they did ten years ago, when I was all through the old troubles.”
“Of course,” said the Resident, “if there should be any threatening of trouble you will come across to the island till it is over. I would not show that we are at all uneasy, doctor; only be upon one’s guard.”
“Yes,” said Mrs Doctor, who had been listening attentively, “that will be best. There may be no trouble over the matter, Mr Harley, and I think we should, as you say, be doing wrong by seeming to be alarmed.”
“Then my expedition is quashed for the present,” said the doctor, dolefully.
“It can wait, I am sure,” said his lady, quietly; and her lord resigned himself to his fate as the Resident repeated his advice about not spreading the alarm and exciting the natives by whom they were surrounded, and then left them to go to the fort on the Residency island—a picturesque little clump of rocky earth that divided the river into two parts. On mounting upon the bamboo landing-stage the first person he encountered was Captain Hilton.
Knowing as he did that the young officer had been very attentive to Helen Perowne of late, he hesitated for a few moments, naturally feeling a repugnance to speak upon such matters to one whom other men would have considered a rival; but after a little thought he laughed to himself.
“I am a fatalist,” he muttered, “and I am not afraid. Here, Hilton,” he said, aloud, “I want to speak to you. Ah, there’s Chumbley, too. Don’t take any particular notice,” he continued, as he noted that several of the natives were about. “Have a cigar?”
He drew out his case as he spoke, and Lieutenant Chumbley coming sauntering up in his cool, idle way, the case was offered to him, and the three gentlemen went slowly along the well-kept military path towards the little mess-room.
“Anything wrong?” said Captain Hilton, eagerly; and as he spoke the Resident saw his eyes turn in the direction of Mr Perowne’s house on the east bank of the river.
“Not at present; but the fact is, I am afraid Mr Perowne has seriously affronted the Rajah this morning, and I think it would be as well to be upon our guard.”
“Got any more of these cigars, Harley?” said Chumbley, quietly. “I like ’em.”
“For Heaven’s sake do hold your tongue, Chumbley!” cried the captain. “I never did see a fellow so cool and indifferent.”
“Why not?” replied Chumbley, in his slow drawl. “There’s nothing wrong, only that the Rajah has been to Perowne’s this morning to propose for the fair Helen, and he has come away with a flea in his ear.”
“What?” cried Captain Hilton.
“How did you know?” exclaimed the Resident, turning upon Chumbley, sharply.
“Guessed it—knew it would come from what I saw last night. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that is it,” replied the Resident, frowning slightly.
“The insolence—the consummate ignorant audacity!” cried the captain, his face flushing with anger. “The dog! I’ll horsewhip him till he begs for mercy!”
“You will do nothing of the kind, Hilton,” said the Resident quietly.
“But it is insufferable,” cried Hilton. “An ignorant, brown-skinned savage to pretend to place himself on a level with gentlemen, and then to dare to propose for an English lady’s hand!”
“Don’t be excited, Hilton,” said the Resident, looking fixedly in the young officer’s handsome, angry countenance. “You forget that the Rajah may look down upon us as his inferiors. He is a prince in his own right, and rules over a very large extent of country here.”
“Oh, yes, I know all that,” cried Hilton, angrily; “but of course Perowne sent him about his business?”
“Yes, and that is why I have come to you. There may be nothing more heard of the matter; but I think it is quite possible that the Rajah may have taken such dire offence that he will force all his people to join in his quarrel, and the result be a serious trouble.”
“I hope not,” drawled Chumbley. “I hate fighting.”
“Pooh!” ejaculated Hilton. “If the scoundrel gives us any of his insolence, we’ll send him handcuffed to Singapore!”
“I should be greatly obliged, Hilton,” said the Resident stiffly, “if you would modify your tone a little. For my part, I am not surprised at the Rajah’s conduct, and I think that it would be better to let our behaviour towards him be conciliating.”
“What! to a fellow like that?” cried the captain.
“To a man like that,” said the Resident, gravely. “If he behaves badly we are strong enough to resent it; but if, on the other hand, he cools down and acts as a gentleman would under the circumstances, it is our duty to meet him in the most friendly spirit we can.”
“I don’t think so,” cried Hilton, hotly, “and if the scoundrel comes to me I shall treat him as he deserves.”
“Captain Hilton,” said the Resident, and his voice was now very grave and stern, “I must ask you to bear in mind that we occupy a very delicate position here—I as her Majesty’s representative; and you, with your handful of troops, as my supporters. We are few, living in the midst of many, and we hold our own here, please to recollect, byprestige.”
“Of course—yes, I know that,” said Hilton.
“Thatprestigewe shall lose if we let our judgment be biased by personal feeling. Kindly set self on one side, as I am striving to do, and help me to the best of your ability by your manly, unselfish advice.”
Hilton frowned as the Resident went on; but the next instant he had held out his hand, which the other grasped.
“I am afraid I am very hot-headed, Mr Harley,” he exclaimed. “There, it is all over, and I’ll help you to the best of my power. Now then, what’s to be done?”
“First accept my thanks,” cried the Resident. “I knew that I could count upon you, Hilton.”
“I’ll do my best, Harley.”
“Then stroll quietly back to the barracks, and in a matter-of-fact way see that all is in such order that you could bring up your men at a moment’s notice.”
“Reinforcements?” suggested Captain Hilton.
“I did think of asking for them,” said the Resident, “but on second thoughts it seems hardly necessary. I would do everything without exciting suspicion, and as if you were only inspecting the fort. Now go.”
“Right,” said the captain; and he walked away, saying to himself:
“He’s a good fellow, Harley, that he is, and he does not bear a bit of malice against me for cutting him out. Poor fellow! he must have felt it bitterly. Hang it all! I could not have borne it. The very fact of this fellow proposing for Helen nearly drove me wild. I think if I were to lose her I should die.”
Chumbley was about to follow Hilton, but the Resident laid a hand upon his shoulder.
“Of course I can count upon your discretion, Chumbley?” he said.
“Oh, yes, I suppose so,” said the young man, “so long as you don’t want anything done in a hurry. Nature seems to forbid a man to be scurried in this climate; but I say, Mr Harley, don’t let’s have a row if you can help it, I’m a soldier, but if there is anything I do abhor, it is fighting. I hate blood. The very idea of having to make our lads use their bayonets gives me a cold chill all down the back.”
“Depend upon it we will not have a quarrel with the natives if we can help it, Chumbley. If diplomacy can keep it off, there shall be none;” and nodding his head in a friendly manner to the young officer, he strolled away.
“But diplomacy won’t keep it off, my dear sir,” said Chumbley. “If Mother Nature turns loose such a girl as Helen Perowne, to play fast and loose with men like Murad, a row must come.
“Let me see,” he said, after a pause, “what shall I do with myself to-day? Best way to avoid scrapes is to keep up friendly relations with the natives.
“Oh, what a worry this love-making is! We all go in for it at some time or another, but hang me if I think it pays.
“Little Helen quite hates me now, since I’ve broken the string and will not be cajoled into coming back. By Jove! what a wise little girl little Stuart is. One might get up a flirtation there without any heart-breaking. No: won’t do, she’s too sweet, and wise, and sensible. Hang it all, can’t a fellow talk sensibly to a pretty girl without thinking he’s flirting! I like little Stuart. You can talk to her about anything, and she never giggles and blushes, and looks silly. She’s an uncommonly nice young girl, and twenty years hence, when beautiful Helen has grown old, and yellow, and scraggy, Stuart will be a pleasant, soft, amiable little woman, like Mrs Bolter. There’s a woman for you! ’Pon my word I believe she likes me; she talks to me just as if I were a big son.
“Well, now, what’s to be done? I’ll go and see if Hilton wants me, and if he doesn’t I shall have a few hours ashore.
“By the way, I wonder who’ll marry little Stuart?” he said, as he went slowly on with his hands behind him, his broad chest thrown out, and a bluff, manly bearing about him that would have made an onlooker think that he would not make a bad match for the lady himself.
“I shan’t,” he added, after a pause. “Hilton’s a precious idiot not to go for her himself, instead of wasting his time upon a woman who will throw him over. As for me, I’m beginning to think I am not a lady’s man. I’m too big, and clumsy, and stupid. They tolerate me when they don’t laugh at me. Bah! what does it matter? Sport’s my line—and dogs.”
Volume One—Chapter Twenty Four.The Pains of a Princess.Captain Hilton saw no reason for detaining his subaltern, only bade him be ready to return to the island at the slightest sign of danger, which Chumbley promised to do; and he was about to walk down to the landing-stage, when, happening to gaze across the swift river towards Mr Perowne’s beautiful garden, which sloped down to the water’s edge, with as good a semblance of a lawn as could be obtained in that part of the world, he caught sight of a couple of figures in white, walking slowly up and down in the shade of the trees.He was too far distant to make out their faces, but he had no doubt that the two were Helen and Grey Stuart.“Now, I would not mind laying a whole shilling that Master Hilton has his binocular focussed exactly upon one of your faces, and is watching every turn of expression. If you smile he thinks it is with thoughts of him; and take it altogether, the poor fellow imagines you are always dreaming of him, when you are wondering what is worn now in Paris or London, and whether any of the new fashions will reach you by the next steamer.“Yes, that’s Helen—fair Helen,” he said, leaning upon a rail, and gazing across the water. “Chumbley, old fellow, I’m beginning to think you are not such a fool as I used to imagine you to be. It was a good brave stroke to get away from the toils of that syren; for there’s no mistake about it, old man, you were just like a big fly in the pretty spider’s web.“By George! she is a very lovely girl though! She seems to fascinate everyone she comes near. Thank goodness, she only got me by one leg, and I broke out, I hope, without much damaging the net. Certainly she soon seemed to repair it. I wish I were a good prophet,” he went on, lighting a cigarette. “I should like to be able to say what is to take place here, who’ll marry whom, and who’ll remain single. Hullo! what’s coming now?”The splash of oars roused him from his reverie, and turning towards the landing-stage, he made out a dragon-boat, or naga, as the larger row-galleys used by the Malay nobles are called, rapidly approaching the little isle.It was propelled by a dozen rowers, all dressed uniformly in yellow silk bajus or jackets, their coarse black hair being topped by a natty little cap similar to that worn by a cavalry soldier in undress, and they kept stroke with wonderful accuracy as they forced the boat along.A large shed-like awning of bamboo and palm leaves covered the latter part of the vessel; and Chumbley forgot his customary inertia, and scanned the boat eagerly, to see if it contained armed men. To his surprise, however, he saw that the whole space beneath the broad awning was filled with women, whose brightly-coloured silken sarongs were hung from their heads after the manner of veils; and though the rowers each wore his kris, the hilt was covered, and it was evidently a friendly visit.“I don’t know though,” thought Chumbley. “Perhaps it is a ruse, and instead of women, those are smart youths, well armed, ready to give our fellows a dig with the kris, and take the place by surprise.“No,” he said, after a few moments’ pause, for there was no mistaking the object of the visit, the Malays being a particularly religious people, and great sticklers for form and ceremony, to which they adhere with scrupulous exactness, so that any one pretty well versed in their customs would know at a glance at their dress whether their object was friendly or the reverse.“Why, it must be the Inche Maida,” muttered Chumbley, giving the native name to a princess residing some distance higher up the stream. “I ought to have been in full fig. I suppose I must go and receive her as I am.”He threw away his cigarette, turned out the guard, sent a messenger up to the Residency with the news of the Princess’s arrival, bidding the man leave word at the officers’ quarters as he passed, and then walked down to the landing-stage, just as the dragon-boat, with its carved and gilded prow, was run abreast.Chumbley courteously raised his muslin-covered pith helmet, tucked it beneath his arm, and helped the Princess to step ashore.She was a remarkably handsome woman of about thirty, with features of the Malay type, but softened into a nearer approach to beauty than is common amongst the women of this nation, whose prominent lips and dilated nostrils are not compensated by the rich long black hair, and large lustrous dark eyes.In the case of the Princess there was almost a European cast of feature, and she possessed an imposing yet graceful carriage, which with her picturesque costume and flower-decked hair, made her far from unattractive, in spite of her warm brown skin.She accepted Chumbley’s assistance with a smile that checked the thought in his mind that she was a fine-looking woman; for that smile revealed a set of remarkably even teeth, but they were filed to a particular pattern and stained black.Chumbley removed his eyes at once from this disfigurement, and let them rest on the magnificent knot of jetty hair, in which were stuck, in company with large gold pins, clusters of a white and odorous jasmine.He could not help noting, too, the gracefully-worn scarf of gossamer texture, passing from her right shoulder beneath her left arm, and secured by a richly-chased gold brooch of native workmanship. This she removed to set the scarf at liberty, so as to throw over her head to screen it from the sun.Accustomed to command, she made no scruple in exposing her face to the gaze of men; but as the women who formed her train alighted, each raised her hands to a level with her temples, and spread the silken sarong she wore over her head, so that it formed an elongated slit, covering every portion of the face but the eyes, and following the Princess in this uncomfortable guise, they took their places ashore.“I have come to see the Resident,” said the Princess, looking very fixedly at Chumbley, and speaking in excellent English. “Will you take me to his presence?”Chumbley bowed, and he forgot his slow drawl as he said that he would be happy to lead her to the Residency; but felt rather disconcerted as the visitor exclaimed, in a very pointed way:“I have not seen you before. Are you the lieutenant?”“I have not had the pleasure of meeting you either,” he replied, rather liking the visitor’s dignified way as he recovered himself; “but I have heard Mr and Miss Perowne talk of the Inche Maida.”“What did they say about me?” she said, sharply.“That you were a noble lady, and quite a princess.”“Ah!” she replied, looking at him fixedly. “How big and strong you are.”Chumbley stared and tried to find something suitable to reply, but nothing came, and the situation seemed to him so comical that he smiled, and then, as the Princess smiled too, he laughed outright.“Forgive my laughing,” he said, good-humouredly. “I can’t help being big; and I suppose I am strong.”“There is the Resident!” said the lady then; and she drew her hand from Chumbley’s arm. “Ah! and the captain.”For just then Harley stepped out from the Residency veranda to meet his visitors; and Hilton, who had found time to put on the regimental scarlet and buckle on his sword, came up to make the reception more imposing.The Princess shook hands in the European fashion, and accepted the Resident’s arm, smiling and bowing as if excusing herself to Hilton. Then, declining to enter the house, she took a seat in the broad veranda amongst the Resident’s flowers, while her women grouped themselves behind her, letting fall the sarongs they held over their faces now that, with the exception of a single sentry, none of the common soldiers were about to gaze upon their charms.But for her costume, the Inche Maida would have passed very well for a dark Englishwoman, and she chatted on for a time about the Resident’s flowers and her own; about her visits to the English ladies at the station; and the various European luxuries that she kept adding to her home some twenty miles up the river, where she had quite a palm-tree palace and a goodly retinue of slaves.Both Mr Harley and Hilton knew that there was some special object in the lady’s visit; but that was scrupulously kept in the background, while coffee and liqueurs were handed round, the visitors partaking freely of these and the sweetmeats and cakes kept by the Resident for the gratification of his native friends.“It is nearly a year since you have been to see me Mr Harley,” said the lady at last. “When will you come again?”“I shall be only too glad to come and see you,” said the Resident, “I have not forgotten the pleasure of my last journey to your home.”“And you will come too?” said the Princess quickly; and she turned her great dark eyes upon Hilton, gazing at him fixedly the while.“I—er—really I hardly think I can leave.”“You will not come?” she cried, with an impetuous jerk of the head. “You think I am a savage, and you despise my ways. Mr Harley will tell you I have tried for years to learn your English customs and to speak your language. It is not fair.”“Indeed,” cried Hilton, eager to make up for what the visitor evidently considered a slight, “I only hesitated on the score of duty.”“You would not care to come,” she said, with the injured look of a spoiled child.“Indeed I should,” exclaimed Hilton, “and I will come.”“You will come?” she cried, with her dark eyes flashing.“Yes, indeed I will.”She leaned towards him, speaking eagerly:“I am glad. I like you English. You shall hunt and shoot. There are tigers, and I have elephants. My slaves shall find game, and you shall have my boat to fetch you.”Dark as her skin was, the Resident noticed the red blood mantling beneath it in her cheeks as she spoke eagerly, fixing her eyes upon Hilton as she spoke, and then lowering the lids in a dreamy, thoughtful way.“Then you will both come?” she said.“Yes, I promise for both; but we cannot leave the station together,” said Mr Harley.“It is well,” she said, smiling; “and you too, lieutenant—you will come and see me? You like to shoot. All Englishmen like to shoot.”“Oh, yes, I’ll come,” said Chumbley, with his slow, heavy drawl. “I think it would be rather jolly. Yes, I’ll come.”She nodded and smiled at him once more, as if he amused her; and Harley noticed that she glanced at Chumbley again and again as the conversation went on, looking at him as if he were some fine kind of animal she thought it would be well to buy at the first opportunity.All at once, though, she turned sharply upon the Resident, and the object of her visit came out.“I want you to help me,” she said, with an angry flash in her eye. “I am a woman, and I cannot fight, or I would not come to you for help. But you English are just. You have settled in our country, and your Princess says, ‘Let there be no cruelty and ill-treatment of the people where you are.’ I have seen you for ten years, ever since I became a woman who could think and act; but because I am a woman I am oppressed. Because I will not be his wife Rajah Hamet stops my people’s boats, and takes away tin and rice. His people beat my slaves and steal their fruit and fowls. Our lives become suffering, for my people are me. I am not a mother, but they call me mother, and they say, ‘See, your children are robbed and beaten; they moisten the dust of the earth with their tears.’”“Ah! ah! ah! ay! ayo!”The three Englishmen started, for at these words of their Princess the women burst into a piteous wail, and beat their breasts.“We suffer; I weep with my children,” continued the Princess, rising and holding out her hands, as she went on speaking with a natural grace and fiery eloquence. “I grow hot with anger, and I am ready to take my father’s kris and limbing and to go out against this coward who oppresses me; but I am a woman, and I should lead my people to death. I cannot do this, but I think and think till the rage grows cold, and my reason comes back, and I say, ‘The great Queen loves her people, and she will not have them hurt. Her rulers, and counsellors, and warriors are in our country, and I will go to them and say, See, I am a woman—a princess. I pay you the tribute you ask of me, and I give you love and all I have that you ask. Save me, then, from this man. Teach him that he cannot rob and injure my people, and so beat and injure me—a helpless woman.’ Will you do this, or shall I go back to my own place and say, ‘The English are brave, but they will not help me? I am a woman, and you and your children must bear your lot.’”She ceased speaking and crossed her hands humbly upon her breast; but her eyes lit up as she saw that Chumbley—upon whom her words had had a remarkable effect—was watching the Resident keenly, and was evidently eager to speak.“Princess,” said Mr Harley, “I am deeply grieved that you should have to make this appeal. I do not act in a matter of such grave importance as this without asking advice; but that I will do at once, and believe me, if I could help it, you should not wait an hour for redress.”“Not half an hour if I could have my way,” cried Chumbley, excitedly. “Princess, I hope we shall soon visit you for some purpose.”She smiled at him again, and nodded her satisfaction; but there was something very grave and earnest in her look as she almost timidly turned to Hilton.He saw the look, which was one of appeal, and seemed to ask for a reply.“I, too,” he said, “should gladly come to your assistance.”“Then my task is done,” she said. “Mr Harley, pray give me your help, and my people shall be ready should evil days come, as they did when I was a mere girl, and the English were in peril of their lives.”“Princess, I will do my best,” he replied; and at a sign from their lady the women rose and stood ready to follow her back to her boat.“Good-bye,” she said, simply, and she held out her hand, placing it afterwards upon Captain Hilton’s arm, as if she wished him to escort her down to the landing-stage.This he did, followed by Chumbley, and on reaching the boat the rowers leaped to their places with the alacrity of well-drilled and disciplined men.The Princess stood aside till the last of her attendants was in her place, and then she turned to Hilton.“Good-bye,” she said.“Good-bye, Princess,” he replied, shaking her hand. “I hope we shall have orders to come to your help.”“So do I,” cried Chumbley, as he took the Princess’s hand in turn; and as he uttered his earnest words he involuntarily raised her hand to his lips and kissed it with profound respect.The Inche Maida’s eyes flashed as she glanced at him, but they turned directly after with rather a regretful look at Hilton, as she seated herself beneath the awning. Then giving a signal with her hand, the rowers’ paddles dipped, the swift boat darted out into the stream, was deftly turned, and began to ascend rapidly; the two young men standing upon the stage where the guard had presented arms, both of them a good deal impressed.“I say, old fellow,” cried Chumbley, speaking with animation, “that’s an uncommonly fine woman, in spite of her coffee skin.”“Yea; you seemed to think so,” replied Hilton, laughing.“Did I?” said Chumbley, with his eyes fixed on the retreating boat.“Yes; I never saw you so polite to a woman before.”“Didn’t you? Well, but she is in trouble, poor thing; and I say, hang it all, old man, how well she spoke out about her people—her children, and her wrongs.”“Yes, it seems very hard, especially as I don’t think Harley will get instructions to interfere on her behalf.”“Not interfere!” cried Chumbley. “Then it will be a damned shame. My dear old man, if we don’t get orders to dress that fellow down, I’ll go up and see her myself, and instead of tiger-hunting I’ll try if I can’t punch the blackguard’s head.”“Why, Chumbley, old boy, what’s the matter with you!” cried Hilton, laughing.“Matter? With me? Nothing at all.”“But you seem all on fire to go and help the Princess.”“Well, of course,” said the lieutenant, warmly; “and so I would any woman who was in distress. Why, hang it all, a fellow isn’t worth much who wouldn’t run some risks to protect a woman.”“Hear! hear! Bravo! bravo! Why Chumbley, you improve.”“Stuff! nonsense!” cried the latter, ashamed of his warmth.“Stuff if you like, and prime stuff,” rejoined Hilton. “It’s the sort of stuff of which I like to see men made. I have hopes of you yet, Chumbley. You will turn ladies’ man—grow smooth and refined.”“And use a pouncet-box, eh?”“No; I draw the line at the pouncet-box and silk,” laughed Hilton.“Never mind! Chaff as much as you like, I’d go and help that Inche Maida. By Jove! what a name for a woman?”“Yes, it is a name for such a fine Cleopatra of a princess. I say, Chum, she seems to have taken quite a fancy to you.”“To me, eh? Well, I like that! Oh, come!” laughed Chumbley. “Why, I saw her lay her hand upon your arm as if she wanted it to stay there. I’ll swear I saw her squeeze your hand. No, my boy, it was your Hyperion curls that attracted her ladyship.”“But I’ll vow I saw her take a lot of notice of you, Chum.”“Yes, but it was because I looked so big; that was all, lad. She’s a sort of hen Frederick William of Prussia, who would adore a regiment of six-feet-six grenadiers. But never mind that; I think she ought to be helped.”“Yes,” said Hilton, quietly; “but I wish it was Murad who had done the wrong, for then I think that I should feel as warm as you—Well, what is it?”“Mr Harley wishes to see you directly, sir,” said an orderly.“Come along, Chumbley; there’s news, it seems. What is it, Harley?” he continued, as they joined the Resident in the veranda.“I have just had news from a man I can trust. Murad is getting his people together, and I fear it means trouble.”“Let it come, then,” said Hilton, firmly. “I’m rather glad.”“Glad!” said the Resident, sternly; “and with all these women and children under our charge!”“I was not thinking of them,” said Hilton, warmly, “but of chastising a scoundrel who seems determined to be thrashed.”“I hope he’ll bring the other fellow too,” said Chumbley.“Hilton—Chumbley!” said the Resident, sternly. “You think upon the surface. You do not realise what all this trouble means!”
Captain Hilton saw no reason for detaining his subaltern, only bade him be ready to return to the island at the slightest sign of danger, which Chumbley promised to do; and he was about to walk down to the landing-stage, when, happening to gaze across the swift river towards Mr Perowne’s beautiful garden, which sloped down to the water’s edge, with as good a semblance of a lawn as could be obtained in that part of the world, he caught sight of a couple of figures in white, walking slowly up and down in the shade of the trees.
He was too far distant to make out their faces, but he had no doubt that the two were Helen and Grey Stuart.
“Now, I would not mind laying a whole shilling that Master Hilton has his binocular focussed exactly upon one of your faces, and is watching every turn of expression. If you smile he thinks it is with thoughts of him; and take it altogether, the poor fellow imagines you are always dreaming of him, when you are wondering what is worn now in Paris or London, and whether any of the new fashions will reach you by the next steamer.
“Yes, that’s Helen—fair Helen,” he said, leaning upon a rail, and gazing across the water. “Chumbley, old fellow, I’m beginning to think you are not such a fool as I used to imagine you to be. It was a good brave stroke to get away from the toils of that syren; for there’s no mistake about it, old man, you were just like a big fly in the pretty spider’s web.
“By George! she is a very lovely girl though! She seems to fascinate everyone she comes near. Thank goodness, she only got me by one leg, and I broke out, I hope, without much damaging the net. Certainly she soon seemed to repair it. I wish I were a good prophet,” he went on, lighting a cigarette. “I should like to be able to say what is to take place here, who’ll marry whom, and who’ll remain single. Hullo! what’s coming now?”
The splash of oars roused him from his reverie, and turning towards the landing-stage, he made out a dragon-boat, or naga, as the larger row-galleys used by the Malay nobles are called, rapidly approaching the little isle.
It was propelled by a dozen rowers, all dressed uniformly in yellow silk bajus or jackets, their coarse black hair being topped by a natty little cap similar to that worn by a cavalry soldier in undress, and they kept stroke with wonderful accuracy as they forced the boat along.
A large shed-like awning of bamboo and palm leaves covered the latter part of the vessel; and Chumbley forgot his customary inertia, and scanned the boat eagerly, to see if it contained armed men. To his surprise, however, he saw that the whole space beneath the broad awning was filled with women, whose brightly-coloured silken sarongs were hung from their heads after the manner of veils; and though the rowers each wore his kris, the hilt was covered, and it was evidently a friendly visit.
“I don’t know though,” thought Chumbley. “Perhaps it is a ruse, and instead of women, those are smart youths, well armed, ready to give our fellows a dig with the kris, and take the place by surprise.
“No,” he said, after a few moments’ pause, for there was no mistaking the object of the visit, the Malays being a particularly religious people, and great sticklers for form and ceremony, to which they adhere with scrupulous exactness, so that any one pretty well versed in their customs would know at a glance at their dress whether their object was friendly or the reverse.
“Why, it must be the Inche Maida,” muttered Chumbley, giving the native name to a princess residing some distance higher up the stream. “I ought to have been in full fig. I suppose I must go and receive her as I am.”
He threw away his cigarette, turned out the guard, sent a messenger up to the Residency with the news of the Princess’s arrival, bidding the man leave word at the officers’ quarters as he passed, and then walked down to the landing-stage, just as the dragon-boat, with its carved and gilded prow, was run abreast.
Chumbley courteously raised his muslin-covered pith helmet, tucked it beneath his arm, and helped the Princess to step ashore.
She was a remarkably handsome woman of about thirty, with features of the Malay type, but softened into a nearer approach to beauty than is common amongst the women of this nation, whose prominent lips and dilated nostrils are not compensated by the rich long black hair, and large lustrous dark eyes.
In the case of the Princess there was almost a European cast of feature, and she possessed an imposing yet graceful carriage, which with her picturesque costume and flower-decked hair, made her far from unattractive, in spite of her warm brown skin.
She accepted Chumbley’s assistance with a smile that checked the thought in his mind that she was a fine-looking woman; for that smile revealed a set of remarkably even teeth, but they were filed to a particular pattern and stained black.
Chumbley removed his eyes at once from this disfigurement, and let them rest on the magnificent knot of jetty hair, in which were stuck, in company with large gold pins, clusters of a white and odorous jasmine.
He could not help noting, too, the gracefully-worn scarf of gossamer texture, passing from her right shoulder beneath her left arm, and secured by a richly-chased gold brooch of native workmanship. This she removed to set the scarf at liberty, so as to throw over her head to screen it from the sun.
Accustomed to command, she made no scruple in exposing her face to the gaze of men; but as the women who formed her train alighted, each raised her hands to a level with her temples, and spread the silken sarong she wore over her head, so that it formed an elongated slit, covering every portion of the face but the eyes, and following the Princess in this uncomfortable guise, they took their places ashore.
“I have come to see the Resident,” said the Princess, looking very fixedly at Chumbley, and speaking in excellent English. “Will you take me to his presence?”
Chumbley bowed, and he forgot his slow drawl as he said that he would be happy to lead her to the Residency; but felt rather disconcerted as the visitor exclaimed, in a very pointed way:
“I have not seen you before. Are you the lieutenant?”
“I have not had the pleasure of meeting you either,” he replied, rather liking the visitor’s dignified way as he recovered himself; “but I have heard Mr and Miss Perowne talk of the Inche Maida.”
“What did they say about me?” she said, sharply.
“That you were a noble lady, and quite a princess.”
“Ah!” she replied, looking at him fixedly. “How big and strong you are.”
Chumbley stared and tried to find something suitable to reply, but nothing came, and the situation seemed to him so comical that he smiled, and then, as the Princess smiled too, he laughed outright.
“Forgive my laughing,” he said, good-humouredly. “I can’t help being big; and I suppose I am strong.”
“There is the Resident!” said the lady then; and she drew her hand from Chumbley’s arm. “Ah! and the captain.”
For just then Harley stepped out from the Residency veranda to meet his visitors; and Hilton, who had found time to put on the regimental scarlet and buckle on his sword, came up to make the reception more imposing.
The Princess shook hands in the European fashion, and accepted the Resident’s arm, smiling and bowing as if excusing herself to Hilton. Then, declining to enter the house, she took a seat in the broad veranda amongst the Resident’s flowers, while her women grouped themselves behind her, letting fall the sarongs they held over their faces now that, with the exception of a single sentry, none of the common soldiers were about to gaze upon their charms.
But for her costume, the Inche Maida would have passed very well for a dark Englishwoman, and she chatted on for a time about the Resident’s flowers and her own; about her visits to the English ladies at the station; and the various European luxuries that she kept adding to her home some twenty miles up the river, where she had quite a palm-tree palace and a goodly retinue of slaves.
Both Mr Harley and Hilton knew that there was some special object in the lady’s visit; but that was scrupulously kept in the background, while coffee and liqueurs were handed round, the visitors partaking freely of these and the sweetmeats and cakes kept by the Resident for the gratification of his native friends.
“It is nearly a year since you have been to see me Mr Harley,” said the lady at last. “When will you come again?”
“I shall be only too glad to come and see you,” said the Resident, “I have not forgotten the pleasure of my last journey to your home.”
“And you will come too?” said the Princess quickly; and she turned her great dark eyes upon Hilton, gazing at him fixedly the while.
“I—er—really I hardly think I can leave.”
“You will not come?” she cried, with an impetuous jerk of the head. “You think I am a savage, and you despise my ways. Mr Harley will tell you I have tried for years to learn your English customs and to speak your language. It is not fair.”
“Indeed,” cried Hilton, eager to make up for what the visitor evidently considered a slight, “I only hesitated on the score of duty.”
“You would not care to come,” she said, with the injured look of a spoiled child.
“Indeed I should,” exclaimed Hilton, “and I will come.”
“You will come?” she cried, with her dark eyes flashing.
“Yes, indeed I will.”
She leaned towards him, speaking eagerly:
“I am glad. I like you English. You shall hunt and shoot. There are tigers, and I have elephants. My slaves shall find game, and you shall have my boat to fetch you.”
Dark as her skin was, the Resident noticed the red blood mantling beneath it in her cheeks as she spoke eagerly, fixing her eyes upon Hilton as she spoke, and then lowering the lids in a dreamy, thoughtful way.
“Then you will both come?” she said.
“Yes, I promise for both; but we cannot leave the station together,” said Mr Harley.
“It is well,” she said, smiling; “and you too, lieutenant—you will come and see me? You like to shoot. All Englishmen like to shoot.”
“Oh, yes, I’ll come,” said Chumbley, with his slow, heavy drawl. “I think it would be rather jolly. Yes, I’ll come.”
She nodded and smiled at him once more, as if he amused her; and Harley noticed that she glanced at Chumbley again and again as the conversation went on, looking at him as if he were some fine kind of animal she thought it would be well to buy at the first opportunity.
All at once, though, she turned sharply upon the Resident, and the object of her visit came out.
“I want you to help me,” she said, with an angry flash in her eye. “I am a woman, and I cannot fight, or I would not come to you for help. But you English are just. You have settled in our country, and your Princess says, ‘Let there be no cruelty and ill-treatment of the people where you are.’ I have seen you for ten years, ever since I became a woman who could think and act; but because I am a woman I am oppressed. Because I will not be his wife Rajah Hamet stops my people’s boats, and takes away tin and rice. His people beat my slaves and steal their fruit and fowls. Our lives become suffering, for my people are me. I am not a mother, but they call me mother, and they say, ‘See, your children are robbed and beaten; they moisten the dust of the earth with their tears.’”
“Ah! ah! ah! ay! ayo!”
The three Englishmen started, for at these words of their Princess the women burst into a piteous wail, and beat their breasts.
“We suffer; I weep with my children,” continued the Princess, rising and holding out her hands, as she went on speaking with a natural grace and fiery eloquence. “I grow hot with anger, and I am ready to take my father’s kris and limbing and to go out against this coward who oppresses me; but I am a woman, and I should lead my people to death. I cannot do this, but I think and think till the rage grows cold, and my reason comes back, and I say, ‘The great Queen loves her people, and she will not have them hurt. Her rulers, and counsellors, and warriors are in our country, and I will go to them and say, See, I am a woman—a princess. I pay you the tribute you ask of me, and I give you love and all I have that you ask. Save me, then, from this man. Teach him that he cannot rob and injure my people, and so beat and injure me—a helpless woman.’ Will you do this, or shall I go back to my own place and say, ‘The English are brave, but they will not help me? I am a woman, and you and your children must bear your lot.’”
She ceased speaking and crossed her hands humbly upon her breast; but her eyes lit up as she saw that Chumbley—upon whom her words had had a remarkable effect—was watching the Resident keenly, and was evidently eager to speak.
“Princess,” said Mr Harley, “I am deeply grieved that you should have to make this appeal. I do not act in a matter of such grave importance as this without asking advice; but that I will do at once, and believe me, if I could help it, you should not wait an hour for redress.”
“Not half an hour if I could have my way,” cried Chumbley, excitedly. “Princess, I hope we shall soon visit you for some purpose.”
She smiled at him again, and nodded her satisfaction; but there was something very grave and earnest in her look as she almost timidly turned to Hilton.
He saw the look, which was one of appeal, and seemed to ask for a reply.
“I, too,” he said, “should gladly come to your assistance.”
“Then my task is done,” she said. “Mr Harley, pray give me your help, and my people shall be ready should evil days come, as they did when I was a mere girl, and the English were in peril of their lives.”
“Princess, I will do my best,” he replied; and at a sign from their lady the women rose and stood ready to follow her back to her boat.
“Good-bye,” she said, simply, and she held out her hand, placing it afterwards upon Captain Hilton’s arm, as if she wished him to escort her down to the landing-stage.
This he did, followed by Chumbley, and on reaching the boat the rowers leaped to their places with the alacrity of well-drilled and disciplined men.
The Princess stood aside till the last of her attendants was in her place, and then she turned to Hilton.
“Good-bye,” she said.
“Good-bye, Princess,” he replied, shaking her hand. “I hope we shall have orders to come to your help.”
“So do I,” cried Chumbley, as he took the Princess’s hand in turn; and as he uttered his earnest words he involuntarily raised her hand to his lips and kissed it with profound respect.
The Inche Maida’s eyes flashed as she glanced at him, but they turned directly after with rather a regretful look at Hilton, as she seated herself beneath the awning. Then giving a signal with her hand, the rowers’ paddles dipped, the swift boat darted out into the stream, was deftly turned, and began to ascend rapidly; the two young men standing upon the stage where the guard had presented arms, both of them a good deal impressed.
“I say, old fellow,” cried Chumbley, speaking with animation, “that’s an uncommonly fine woman, in spite of her coffee skin.”
“Yea; you seemed to think so,” replied Hilton, laughing.
“Did I?” said Chumbley, with his eyes fixed on the retreating boat.
“Yes; I never saw you so polite to a woman before.”
“Didn’t you? Well, but she is in trouble, poor thing; and I say, hang it all, old man, how well she spoke out about her people—her children, and her wrongs.”
“Yes, it seems very hard, especially as I don’t think Harley will get instructions to interfere on her behalf.”
“Not interfere!” cried Chumbley. “Then it will be a damned shame. My dear old man, if we don’t get orders to dress that fellow down, I’ll go up and see her myself, and instead of tiger-hunting I’ll try if I can’t punch the blackguard’s head.”
“Why, Chumbley, old boy, what’s the matter with you!” cried Hilton, laughing.
“Matter? With me? Nothing at all.”
“But you seem all on fire to go and help the Princess.”
“Well, of course,” said the lieutenant, warmly; “and so I would any woman who was in distress. Why, hang it all, a fellow isn’t worth much who wouldn’t run some risks to protect a woman.”
“Hear! hear! Bravo! bravo! Why Chumbley, you improve.”
“Stuff! nonsense!” cried the latter, ashamed of his warmth.
“Stuff if you like, and prime stuff,” rejoined Hilton. “It’s the sort of stuff of which I like to see men made. I have hopes of you yet, Chumbley. You will turn ladies’ man—grow smooth and refined.”
“And use a pouncet-box, eh?”
“No; I draw the line at the pouncet-box and silk,” laughed Hilton.
“Never mind! Chaff as much as you like, I’d go and help that Inche Maida. By Jove! what a name for a woman?”
“Yes, it is a name for such a fine Cleopatra of a princess. I say, Chum, she seems to have taken quite a fancy to you.”
“To me, eh? Well, I like that! Oh, come!” laughed Chumbley. “Why, I saw her lay her hand upon your arm as if she wanted it to stay there. I’ll swear I saw her squeeze your hand. No, my boy, it was your Hyperion curls that attracted her ladyship.”
“But I’ll vow I saw her take a lot of notice of you, Chum.”
“Yes, but it was because I looked so big; that was all, lad. She’s a sort of hen Frederick William of Prussia, who would adore a regiment of six-feet-six grenadiers. But never mind that; I think she ought to be helped.”
“Yes,” said Hilton, quietly; “but I wish it was Murad who had done the wrong, for then I think that I should feel as warm as you—Well, what is it?”
“Mr Harley wishes to see you directly, sir,” said an orderly.
“Come along, Chumbley; there’s news, it seems. What is it, Harley?” he continued, as they joined the Resident in the veranda.
“I have just had news from a man I can trust. Murad is getting his people together, and I fear it means trouble.”
“Let it come, then,” said Hilton, firmly. “I’m rather glad.”
“Glad!” said the Resident, sternly; “and with all these women and children under our charge!”
“I was not thinking of them,” said Hilton, warmly, “but of chastising a scoundrel who seems determined to be thrashed.”
“I hope he’ll bring the other fellow too,” said Chumbley.
“Hilton—Chumbley!” said the Resident, sternly. “You think upon the surface. You do not realise what all this trouble means!”