DIANA BARRINGTONNein Notote at tto &ttoavtm
LOVE’S LABOUR WON. By James Grant. 3 vols.
MRS. RUMBOLD’S SECRET. By Mrs. Macquoid. i vol. A WOMAN’S FACE. By Florence Warden. 3 vols. ROBERT HOLT’S ILLUSION. By M. Linskill. i vol. MISER FAREBROTHER. By B. L. Farjeon. 3 vols. IDLE TALES. By Mrs. Riddell, i vol.
MIRACLE GOLD. By R. Dowling. 3~vols.
WARD & DOWNEY, PUBLISHERS, LONDON.DIANA BARRINGTON
& Montana of etmtral EnSt'a.
BY
MRS. JOHN CROKER,
AUTHOR OF “PROPER PRIDE,” “PRETTY MISS NEVILLE,” “ SOME ONE ELSE, “A BIRD OF PASSAGE,” ETC.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
	VOL. III.
WARD	LONDON: AND DOWNEY,
12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C. 1888.
[All rights reserved. ]CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS, CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS.823 C 678 ¿1
V. 3
	CONTENTS.
“TEARS55.	CHAPTER I. PAGE 	I
	CHAPTER II.
“IT IS FOR YOU TO RANSOM ME55............20
CHAPTER III.
“ AS EASY AS ‘ABC’”......................38
A LETTER	CHAPTER IV. 	45
	CHAPTER V.
“THE DIAMONDS MUST GO” .	.................60VI
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VI.
<,	PAGE
COOPOODOO THE SOUCAR...........................74
CHAPTER VII.
FOR THE HONOUR OF THE REGIMENT.................9°
THE WHISPER \	CHAPTER VIII. 	 , . 100
	CHAPTER IX.
POOR MRS. MOONATHOON.......................H7
CHAPTER X.
“SO MUCH FOR A KISS ”......................127
CHAPTER XI.
ALL IS LOST, INCLUDING HONOUR..............I4I
NO REPRIEVE .	CHAPTER XII. 	155
“to be transpor	CHAPTER XIII. TED FOR LIFE” . . ... 164
TO BE TRANSPORTED FOR LIFECONTENTS.	vii
CHAPTER XIV.
PAGE
AT death’s door.................................173
CHAPTER XV.
“SHALL I TELL YOU?”.............................193
CHAPTER XVI.
TWO ENGAGEMENTS .	.	.	.	.	.	.	.210
CHAPTER XVII.
“THEY SAID THAT YOU	WERE	NEVER COMING BACK” .	.	220
CHAPTER XVIII.
MARCHE FUNÈBRE ................................ 229
CHAPTER XIX.
SUNSHINE .
254DIANA BARRINGTON.
CHAPTER I.
“ TEARS.”
“ That it should come to this !35
Hamlet.
WHEN I had heard Mrs. Vavasour’s light footsteps, hurrying quickly away, I went back to the drawing-room, and met Hugh—and I felt a miserable, guilty wretch.
“ Hullo ! not gone to bed yet ? ” he exclaimed. “What on earth has kept you up so late ? Has Mrs. Gimlette been entertaining you ? Has she been holding an auction ? ”
“No,” I answered, with a nervous laugh. “ Had you a pleasant evening ? ”
“ Pretty fair! Some of The Clique were
VOL. III.
B2
DIANA BARRINGTON.
there, and some rather rowdy fellows. I left them singing songs, and breaking up chairs. I’ve got a note to write to-night, and — I want a candle,” he said, walking off to a large apartment, which was his dressing-room, and office combined.
As I placed the lighted candle beside him, he glanced up at me, and exclaimed :
“ Ranee! What on earth ails you? You look like -a ghost! ”
“Nothing ails me/’ I answered. “I am only a little sleepy,” and then I went away to the drawing-room, and stood in the dim light. I could not bear Pallia’s chatter, just yet. I pressed my hands to my temples—how they throbbed ! Was / going mad, or was it all true ?
It was true—yes—and here I got up, and began to pace about the room. Things came back to me now—father’s silence, Peggy’s silence, Colonel Plassard’s silence, his evasive answers, and his averted eyes, when I questioned him; his odd, inscrutable expression, when he asked me what I thought of Mrs. Vavasour ? I saw“TEARS:
3
it all—all,	I rushed to the sofa, and threw
myself down and wept. Oh, how I wept ! And why should I cry ? Should not I, so friendless, save for Hugh, be thankful to know that I had a mother living ? No, in my heart I could not rejoice. Mrs. Vavasour, as my mothery was intolerable—far, far rather, would I believe her to be lying in her grave.
“What is all this?” said a voice that I easily recognised. I raised my head, and saw Hugh, candle in hand.
“I thought I heard a noise in here, and I find it’s you. What is the matter ? ”
I was silent ; sobs were my only answer. Hugh was grieved—yes, and indignant—that I would not confide in him. No, I would not tell him anything, in spite of his most tender and anxious inquiries.
“ It must be something serious, Ranee. Pve
not seen you cry yourself into this state-------”
And he stopped. He was going to say, “ since your father died.” What would have been his feelings, if I had told him that I was weeping —because my mother was alive?
B 24
DIANA BARRINGTON
“Come, you know, I can’t bear to see you shed a tear. Have you been having a row with Mrs. Gimlette ?”
“No”
“ Nor Ada Mayne ? ”
“ How ridiculous! No/5 I answered, now endeavouring to dry my eyes, and swallow down my sobs.
“Well, I see you won’t tell me what has worried you. I shall try and find out for myself.” And he was quite as good as his : word; for when we met at tiffin next day, after his return from orderly-room, he first of all regaled me with little bits of news; then he told me a story, which made me laugh; and then he said, in the most casual manner:
“ These nocturnal visits from Mrs. Vavasour do not agree with you, my dear! I cannot have her coming here after eleven o’clock, making a sitting of two hours, and then leaving my wife to cry all night. I knew she was here, for Peter met her — and on foot! She has been telling you, something unpleasant. What was it ? ”“ TEARS»	5
I could not answer, and looked guiltily at my plate.
“ Well, she shan't have a chance of telling you anything more, for I have just told Runga-sawmy" (our butler) “ that in future, when Mrs. Vavasour calls, ‘ Missus can't see.' ”
“Oh, Hugh!	No—you haven't—no, surely
you are joking," I remonstrated tremulously.
“ No, not this time ! I have my suspicions about that very captivating woman ; and, in future, to please me, Ranee, will you promise not to see her, or speak to her any more ? ”
In answer to this, I burst into tears, like the goose that I was, and thus evaded the necessity of making a direct reply.
“ I am sure you must have had enough of her last evening, to do for a lifetime," continued Hugh. “ Come, dry your eyes, and p'ut on your hat, and I'll take you for a drive, well out of the station. You had better wear a veil, for if any one met us, they would swear we had been having our first quarrel."
We had our first quarrel that evening, all6
DIANA BARRINGTON.
the same—the first, and alas! by no means our last.
I went away to my room, to bathe my eyes, and scribble a note to Mrs. Vavasour. I could not call her mother, and commenced it as usual, and said:
“ Tuesday evening.
“My husband says that I am not to receive you again.—He knows nothing. I send you a line to prepare you ; perhaps it would be better that we should not see each other, for some time.
“ Yours,
“Diana FitzrOy.”
This note I hastily scrawled, and thrust into my blotter, not having time to address it,, for Hugh was whistling and sounding the gong,, and giving every sign of impatience.
“You have been ages!” he said, as I came out into the verandah. “ Have you been improving your complexion ? Let me see! No, you are still ghastly; the air will do you good. Peter is coming to dinner, and Tve sent a line“ teams:
7
over to Hassard—he is back from Bombay, and will tell you all the latest news, and cheer you up.-”
This was indeed kind, and thoughtful, of Hugh, for I knew that in his heart of hearts he was not enthusiastic about my cousin, and looked down upon him as a “tame cat,” and a milksop!
I was all the better for my long drive, and came home with bright eyes, a fresh colour, and a good appetite. Before I dressed for dinner, I folded, stamped, and addressed my note, and despatched it to the pillar-box by Pallia. Yes, I was already too cunning to send it by a messenger! Then I attired myself carefully, and went into the drawing-room, to receive Colonel Hassard—an early arrival. We had not met for a month, and when the first few questions were over, he said rather suddenly, eyeing me keenly as he spoke:
1 “And how is your friend, Mrs. Vavasour? Do you see much of her now ? ”
I became very red and confused, and stammered out cc That I had seen her recently.”DIANA BARRINGTON
Looking me full in the face, and holding my eyes as it were with his own, he said:
“ Have you ever heard who she was before she married Mr. Vavasour ? ”
This question completely routed my self-control, and for the second time that day, I burst into tears, and my tears in this instance, spoke volumes.
“ I see,” he said in a low voice, “ you know. For my own part, I recognised her at once, and it gave me a strange sensation to see mother and daughter, so often side by side—and so entirely ignorant of the tie between them. You are in a very unfortunate position—a terrible position—my poor little cousin, and I pity you, from the bottom of my heart.”
What bad luck it was for me, that just at this moment we were joined by Hugh! He heard Colonel Hassard say sympathetically: “ My poor little cousin, I pity you from the bottom of my heart,” and he found me greatly agitated; and in tears.
This curious incident, he could not fail to notice. Oh, why could he not have come sooner“ tears:
9
or later! No one would have guessed from his manner that he had heard anything out of the common. He acquitted himself as host so well, that I began to flatter myself, that my fears were groundless. He made Peter sing; he played the violin in a manner that would have put Amphion to shame; he fiddled away my fears; he exorcised my low spirits, and laughed, and joked, and was the life of the little party. In due time, our guests went away, and I was about to take myself off to bed, when Hugh called out, just as I reached the door:
“ Wait a moment, Ranee, I have something to say to you.”
I looked round. He was sitting in the same chair that she had occupied the previous night.—I began to imagine, that there was something fatal in that chair, to met
cc Come here,” he said in a peremptory tone, to which I was unaccustomed.
“ I asked you to-day, most earnestly, to have nothing to do with Mrs. Vavasour; and you consented, at least,11 took silence for consent. Now I find, to my great concern, thatIO
DIANA BARRINGTON.
you are not to be trusted. I met your ayah, with a letter in her hand, this evening', and as I was going to the mess, I took it from her and posted it myself. I did not look at the address from any motives of curiosity— you and I have had no secrets between us— God knows I have had none from you !—and when I glanced at the note, I saw that it was addressed to Mrs. Vavasour. I posted it, but remember it is the last you will write to her. Do you hear me, Ranee ? ” he added sternly.
“Yes, I hear you; I am not deaf.”
“ Do you heed me ? ”
“ No. I shall probably write to Mrs. Vavasour again, and if I said I would not, I should be telling you an untruth.”
“ Then you defy me ? ”
“ Yes ”
“ And disobey me ? v he asked, in a low, firm voice but with a latent storm in his eyes.
“ Only in this—yes.”
“Well, at any rate/you are candid. Do you think your candour will carry you so far,“ TEARS:
n
as to tell me, what you were saying to Colonel Hassard this evening, in this very room ? Why were you weeping ? Why was he. talking of a terrible position, and pitying his poor little cousin, from the bottom of his heart ? ”
Dead silence.
“ Diana — you must tell me — and I will know.”
I raised my eyes, and looked at him. I tried to speak, but I knew not what to say. I was already suffering sorely for my promise ; I would have given all I possessed to retract —but my lips were sealed. -
“ If this goes on, I shall go mad,” I said, suddenly casting myself into an easy-chair.
“And I also shall go mad if this goes on?” echoed Hugh, with grim sarcasm. “My wife, who never had a secret from me, ail of a sudden holds long interviews with two people—has some heavy burden on her mind ; sheds tears with Mrs. Vavasour, and shares her secret with her— sheds tears with Colonel Hassard, shares her secret with him, receives his sympathy, and /12
DIANA BARRINGTON
am left out in the cold. By Jove ! I think it’s enough to drive me mad! ” And now he rose, and began to walk about the room.
“ If Ada Mayne had your confidence, I would not mind so much. She is an honest, good little creature, for all her feather-head. I could even put up with Mrs. Gimlette; but when I know that your secret is shared with Mrs. Vavasour — that arch-enchantress, and intriguer—I know that it must be BAD/”
“This I may tell you,” I said, rising to my feet, “ that it is not. It is perfectly harmless.”
“ And yet it is connected with that woman ? ”
"It is.”
“ And with you and Colonel Hassard?”
“ Yes! ”
“ Ah ! ” I could give no idea of the angry scorn that Hugh threw into that,
“Ah!” '
It spoke volumes.
“ I can't wonder now that your father kept you so strictly secluded,” continued Hugh passionately. “No doubt he had reason to believe“ tears:
13
in your aptitude for getting into hot water, and for carrying on intrigues with wealthy men, and wicked women.5'
“ Hugh,” I interrupted, with a stamp of my feet, “ how can you be so cruel ?—you are angry —you don’t know what you say. How could I, a mere child, brought up in the wilds from infancy, never seeing a stranger till I met youy how can I possibly be what you say ? 93
“You may have lacked opportunity! These tastes are hereditary ; doubtless the taint is in your blood. Your father was a good, honest gentleman; but how do I know, what your mother was ? ”
“ Oh, Hugh ! dear Hugh !;5 I cried, clasping my hands. “ Do not speak like this ! If you knew all, instead of reproaching me, you would pity me. Indeed you would !55
“Like Colonel Hassard,” he sneered.
“Yes, like Colonel Hassard,” I answered, now in a towering passion. “He never would, or could, taunt me as you have done. He is a gentleman ! ”
“And I am not? Thank you!^14
DIANA BARRINGTON.
“ Oh, Hugh ! ” I exclaimed, dismayed at the growing gulf between us. Have patience! Do not goad me into saying things I do not mean! You joked to-day about our first quarrel. Is not this it?”
“ And whose fault is it, pray ? ” he inquired, with a bitter smile. “ It lies entirely with you, to clear up the whole matter. I will humbly beg your pardon, Ranee, if I have misunderstood you — and I know that I have allowed my naturally hot temper to carry me too far. Only whisper two words in my ear, only make me—your husband — as wise as strangers ; only tell me your secret! ”
“ I cannot! ” I answered, wringing my hands in distraction.
“ I thought not!” he rejoined fiercely. “There is the test.”
And then he went out of the room, and slammed the door after him, with a bang that shook the whole Bungalow.
After this, our first quarrel, Hugh did not speak to me—except at meals, and then only to ask me what I would take—for a whole“ tears:
15
week; and I need not say that I was wretched. I lived, as it were, on the edge of a volcano. I had no taste for intrigues, or secrets, and Mrs. Vavasour seemed to relish both ; she delighted, apparently, in snatching a few words at the band, or at a tennis party, or dance; in thrusting notes into my reluctant hand, and sending them inside books, flowers, and music. These notes made me miserable; I dreaded them as I would a scorpion, for I never knew when one might drop out before Hugh !
There was never anything important in them, and surely they could not have been written out of a pure spirit of mischief, and love of danger? Danger, that could not touch her. As for me, I lived, so to speak, in a powder-mill.
One morning, about a week after our domestic battle, Hugh—who was now polite to me, and no more—said, as we sat at breakfast:^
“ I met a man yesterday who told me all about your dear friend, Mrs. Vavasour. She is a divorced woman.”
My heart stood still, and I put down my cup, which rattled in the saucer.i6
DIANA BARRINGTON
Divorced—yes !	And she was my mother.
I became crimson.
“Did you know that she ran away from an excellent husband, and forsook an infant in arms” (that was me), “and went off in a most cold-blooded manner with an old lover ? ”
“ No,” I answered, greatly disturbed, and secretly grasping the table to steady myself.
“ Since then, she has been an adventuress on the face of the globe, until good luck threw that old mole, Mr. Vavasour, in her .way. She married him, and turned over a new leaf. She has discovered that it pays to be good, and I certainly won’t stand in her way; her history shall go no further—and I asked the fellow who knows it, to keep it dark; but I thought you ought to see her, in her true colours.”
“ Did you hear her name ? ” I asked, almost in a whisper.
“No. And now, Diana, one word.—The General is taking me, as aide-de-camp, to the camp of exercise at Cheetapore. I tried to cry off, but it was no good. I don’t want to leave you here with her alone; promise me, that« tears:
17
you will not admit her in my absence. Promise me, that you will not write to her. I ask this pledge from you, in remembrance of old days by the Karrhan.—I say no more. Even if you don’t mind me, think of your father. What would he have thought of Mrs. Vavasour? What would he have said, had he known that you, in spite of me, insisted on having her for a bosom friend?—What would he ,have said, I ask you ? ”
Of course I could not answer, and say he would have said: “ She is the girl’s mother,” and I held my tongue.
“ Will you give me your promise,” he urged, "and let me go off to my duty, with a light heart ? Come, Ranee ! ”
"When are you going?”
" Immediately! My traps are packed, my charger has gone to the station, the cart is waiting for me, and I am waiting for you,”
“Yes, Hugh, I’ll promise,” I faltered.
“ And you won’t break your word, as you did before? Mind, if you do, I’ll never forgive you.”
VOL. III.
ci8
DIANA BARRINGTON
, “Yes, you may depend on me this timey Hugh.”
“ All right then, good-bye/' seizing his hat.
“ Come back! Come back; you have forgotten something,” I .cried, running to the door.
“What is it?” impatiently.
“Why, to kiss me/’ I said, lifting my face to his.
“ Oh, is that it ? Well, really you are so> pretty, I cannot resist you/' stooping down and kissing me twice. “ Good-bye, Ranee f Now, mind you are a good girl whilst I am from home.” So saying, he got into the cart, and, with a farewell shake of his whip, drove rapidly away.
Decidedly I was getting into his good graces once more (he called me1 “ Ranee"). Oh, that I might remain there! Oh, that fate and circumstances would leave me alone!
I passed the morning practising Hugh's accompaniments, embroidering him a smoking-cap, and making stern resolutions with regard to Mrs. Vavasour — resolutions, alas! that the“ TEARS:
19
first contest with her strong will, and invincible powers of persuasion, scattered to the four winds in three minutes’ time.
But how I succumbed, how I got into deeper trouble than ever, must be told on another occasion.
c 2CHAPTER II.
“IT IS FOR YOU TO RANSOM ME.”
“ And let me wring your heart, for so I shall,
If it be made of penetrable stuff.”
Hamlet.
The good resolutions that I made merely lasted till the first time I met Mrs. Vavasour, and this happened to be at a large “musical” afternoon tea, for which the Generals wife had issued cards to all the élite of Sindi.
“ My dear,” she whispered, hedging me into a corner with her fan, “ I have a thousand things that I must say to you. Is it true that your husband is from hpme?”
“ Yes,” I faltered most reluctantly.
“Joy! What a piece of good luck! Then“IT IS FOR YOU TO RANSOM ME/
21
I am coming to see you to-morrow night, without fail.”
“ No, no,” I protested imploringly. " I have promised Hugh that I will not enter your house, or receive you in mine/”
“Why?” she asked, with a flash of her expressive eyes.
“ Because he—he has heard something. He knows-----”
She drew back a step, and laid her hand on the back of a chair near her, as if to steady herself. Her beautiful face looked haggard and livid, and in a husky, uncertain voice, she faltered:
“ What does he know?”
“Not who you are, nor your former name; but—but-----”
“ Then I am ruined! ” she exclaimed, in a hoarse whisper. “ My story will be all over Sindi.”
“No ; it is safe. The man he heard it from, was a stranger passing through. He knows little —no names.”
“Ah!” and she made a hasty movement of22
DIANA BARRINGTON.
satisfaction and relief, and passed her handkerchief over her lips. “ Diana, I must meet you somewhere to-morrow without fail
“No—no! Wait till Hugh comes back; and then I will---''
“I cannot/' she interrupted brusquely, “my business is far too urgent. I have not an hour to lose. I want your help—your substantial help.”
“My help?” I echoed.
“ Yes—yours! I have an idea! You know the Temple Gardens, close to your Bungalow? They are lovely ; but no one ever goes near them, because they are not the fashion ! You know the little Pagoda—by the band-stand—I shall meet you there at three o'clock to-morrow. Stay—no—I have an engagement. Let me see. I'll meet you there at eleven o’clock at night. Come on foot ; it's not more than five minutes’ walk from you.”
“ But I really dare not/' I whispered.
“ Bah ! you little, trembling mouse ! Are you afraid to keep a tryst with your own mother? Should you ever have a daughter of your own, how would you like her to shrink“IT IS FOR YOU TO RANSOM MET
2 3
from you, as you do from me? No tie in the world is*so close, as that which binds us. Do you, not owe duty and obedience to mey as well as to your husband ? I will do you no hatrm with him.—What people never know cannot hurt them.—Remember, eleven o’clock without fail.”
And, as she uttered this command, she allowed herself to be drawn back into the crowd, and a circle of friends instantly closed round her, whilst I stood alone, and aloof, in my secluded corner, and trembled, when 1 thought of the engagement to which I stood committed.
After all, I would not go. This was my doughty determination, as I was discovered by some acquaintances, and asked in a cheery manner, “when Hugh was coming back?” and told that I was not looking at all up to the mark; my pale face, and distrait air, being laughingly attributed to his absence.
Little did they guess, to whom it was really due—that queenly lady in black lace, who was holding a kind of little court, upon a distant sofa.24
DIANA BARRINGTON
I slept badly that night, and the ensuing day seemed endless; ten times an hour I resolved not to keep my appointment, ten times an hour I changed my mind, and of course in the end—/ went. I was like a person mesmerised, and altogether under the power of a stronger mind than my own. To a certain extent I was obliged to confide in Pallia—I could not shake her off; no, she evidently descried some secret from afar, and flatly refused to go to her rice—an unheard-of occurrence. At length, I boldly informed her that as the night was hot, I was going for a walk in the Temple Gardens*
“ Temple Gardens at this hour?” she exclaimed, in a shrill voice.
“ Yes.”
“And alone?”
“ No ; with another lady.”
Pallia sniffed. Oh, the insolence, and incredulity of that sniff!
Up to the very last moment I wavered— ay, up to five minutes to eleven—and then— I fled out of the compound, with a shawl over“ IT IS FOR YOU TO RANSOM MET
25
my head, and stole along the shady side of the moonlit high road. It seemed to me that every native I passed, turned and looked after me, and how my heart beat! No worse conspirator, or subject for secret meetings, existed than I—Diana Fitzroy. When I reached the great iron gates, and saw the long garden avenues stretching out before me in the moonlight, I ceased to skulk, and increased my pace to a rapid run; I soon reached the centre of this lovely, select spot, a white Pagoda, with steps leading up to it, and pillars all round, and a few seats inside. Mrs. Vavasour was already there.
“ Good heavens !" she exclaimed. “ I wonder you did not have the police after you in full cry—running like that. You are ten minutes late, and I was just thinking of going to your house—for speak to you I must/'
‘‘Why could you not speak to me yesterday ?" I panted breathlessly.
“ Because I have much to say—that must be said in private. This is a capital place— it has no walls, and no ears, and we can talk26
DIANA BARRINGTON.
for an hour undisturbed.—At home, I have gone to bed with a bad headache. What have you done, dear ? ” and she laughed softly.
“Nothing. I dare say the servants think I am asleep, and I am sure I hope so ! ”
“Ah—you are a sweet, domestic little creature; you will never be suspected. Now sit down on this bench, and take off your shawl.” I removed the shawl, but did not sit; I preferred to remain standing on the steps. “The reason I have summoned you,” she continued, “ is a potent one—I want money.”
“Money!” I repeated. “And I have always thought you were immensely rich.”
“ I wish I was. Lawrence has splendid pay ; but I am extravagant, and I am sure you would never suppose, that Lawrence was the most close-fisted man in Sindi. He disburses all the money himself; I have not a farthing, except one hundred a year that he allows me for dress; and I need not tell you, that a hundred a year is a mere drop in the ocean to a woman like me. Mr. Vavasour likes to hear me quoted, as 'the best dressed woman in“IT IS FOR YOU TO RANSOM ME:
2 7
the Presidency/ and knows that my clothes cost four times his pittance; and yet he cruelly pretends not to see it—or affects to imagine that I have some private source of income, and laughs in my face, when I ask for an advance. He started me with some good lace and diamonds—that was for his own credit-more he will not do.” I looked at her fixedly, but did not speak. “ Notv, my dear child, it has come to my ears, that you have twenty thousand pounds in the five per cents, (a nice little fortune), and I am sure that you will not grudge some of it to me, will you, my pretty Diana ? ”
u How much do you require?” I asked, with my usual bluntness.
“ I must have four thousand pounds by this day week,” she answered, with business - like promptitude.
“ Four thousand rupees, is it not ? ” I faltered.
“No — pounds. Four thousand pounds, or fifty thousand rupees.”
“ Four thousand pounds! ” I echoed, rather blankly.28
DIANA BARRINGTON.
“ Four from twenty leaves sixteen; a very comfortable little sum.”
“I cannot touch a penny of my capital. If it had been hundreds, I might help you ; thousands are beyond my power.”
“ Is this really so ? ” she asked, with a tight expression about her lips. “Is it all so strictly tied up?”
“Yes—till I coirfe of age.”
“Then you can raise money from the sou-cars,” she said impatiently.
“ No, I could not, and would not, if I could.”
“ What! not to save your own mother from ruin ? ” she demanded passionately, and her eyes shone strangely in the moonlight.
“ What do you mean by ruin ? ” I inquired. “Were you not ruined when you forsook husband and child—to—to—no—I cannot say it. If this be true, what claim have you on me ? ” She stood and surveyed me, for a moment, and then said, with curious slowness, and scorn : “There spoke John Barrington’s daughter— you are like him—hard as the nether millstone ;“IT IS FOR YOU TO RANSOM MET
29
and you are well named c Diana/ for you would be pitiless to any one who was not made of stone like yourself. All the same,, you cannot put me aside; the ties of blood are too strong. As to having left my home, you shall hear my side of the story, and judge. Hitherto, slander, and scurrilous smoking-room stories, are all that have come to your ears. Confess ? ”
“Yes, I suppose it is true. And oh, mother, I would give my right hand, if you could but refute them,” I added desperately.
“Last night I sat up till two o’clock, and wrote out my history for your eyes alone. I have it with me,” producing from her pocket what looked like a thick letter. “Take it, and read it at your leisure, and then say, if I am the dreadful character that no doubt your husband paints. Of course he has warned you against me. As if I would not be the best friend in the world to'my own daughter! You will try and help me, won’t you, darling? I know you will, when you hear the horrible fix I am in.”30
DIANA BARRINGTON
“ What fix do you mean ? ” I asked nervously.
“ Well — to commence — my debts to my milliner are serious. They have been rolling on for years, like a huge snowball. Now and then, when I have had a little luck, I have thrown sops of one, two, and even three hundred pounds.”
“ Three hundred to a dressmaker!” I exclaimed aghast. Indeed, to me three hundred pounds to any one, was sufficiently appalling. Father had a horror of debt, and — so had Hugh.
“ Yes, you savagely brought up child! Why, what do you think my bonnets and dresses for the races come to ? Well, I won’t shock you ! but one of my parasols cost fifteen pounds. A woman in my position must dress, and lead the fashion, if she is to keep to the fore at all. I speak to you precisely as if I were thinking aloud. I am no longer young—I have a daughter of twenty, and other women would soon eclipse me, had I not an art which is shared by very few—the art of dressing exquisitely. This art is an expensive taste—my gowns begin at thirty61 IT IS FOR YOU TO RANSOM MET
3i
guineas, and I never put a bonnet on my head under three. In a dowdy, unbecoming costume, no one would look at me twice. As it is, you see, they look at me very frequently! Minus my pretty clothes, I should lose my prestige, even with . Lawrence — appearances go a long way with him/*
“No, no, no/* I protested emphatically, “you would not have me believe that your only hold upon your husband, and 'friends, is through your dress, and that their affection is measured by the style of a gown, and the shape of a bonnet You are joking.**
“ Bonnets and brains, and the remains of beauty. As to joking, I never felt less in the humour for a jest, than I do this evening. I am at the end of my resources, my sole hope is in you.” She caught her breath as she ceased, and fixed on me a look of intense earnestness.
“ But with every desire to help you, I have not the power. It is true, that I keep all our
money, and have the spending of it---------**
“ What a delightful husband Captain Fitzroy32
DIANA BARRINGTON.
must be! ” she exclaimed, with a contemptuous hardening of the lips.
“But—I get him to look over my accounts, and add them up—and so even—if I could---------”
“Even if you could-----You will, when you
hear/* she interrupted. “ For years I have been in debt to ‘ Tulle & Torchon/ and as to Madame Chemisette, she has become a regular bugbear, in spite of large sums on account, and has even hinted, that she will take no more orders. This would be a fatal blow — for no one in the world fits like her. I had an awful bill, and a lawyer’s letter from her last mail— threatening all sorts of things. Then as misfortunes never come singly, a wretch who knows ,my story, and draws an income from the fact, has written to say, that he is in desperate straits, and I must help him, otherwise he will sell the secret to Lawrence, who knows nothing, beyond that I was a widow, whom he met on board ship ; he thinks there is no one like me, poor little man—and if he knew—I am lost/' she concluded, with fierce, deliberate emphasis.“IT IS FOR YOU TO RANSOM ME:
33
“ I wond.er you can bear to deceive him. If I were you, I could never sleep at night ”
“ Oh, I am quite accustomed to my sword of Damocles by this time. In order to extricate myself, I tried to do a little gamble on the races, and, by the best advice, I plunged on ‘ King Fortune/ There was nothing lucky about him but his name — he was nowhere — and I lost four thousand rupees the first day. The second, I went in more deeply than ever, to try and recover that, and I lost still more. It was only throwing good money after bad. Then I built all my hopes on the last day. I was positively desperate. If I had backed your husband, in the hurdle-race, I should have saved a thousand rupees out of the five ; but as I don't like him for one thing, and I had no conception that he was such a capital jockey for another, I backed Captain Jones on ‘ Lamplighter/ and they were nowhere. During that horrible afternoon, I had to talk, and be gay, pleasant and cool, whilst all the time a fox, like the Spartan Boy's, was rending my vitals — a little animal called ‘ Despair/ For it was the
VOL. III.
D34
DIANA BARRINGTON
same story, after every race — Lost, lost, lost! And as I drove away from the course, I seemed to see Ruin sitting on the back seat 1 Altogether I had lost ten thousand rupees.”
“ Oh !33 I ejaculated faintly.
“Yes; nominally Captain Carden owes the money, and he has not a fraction. They are my debts. If he is posted as a defaulter, he will lose his commission, and I cannot allow him to suffer for me. I must take the consequences in my own hands, and the consequence of that would be, that Lawrence would turn me out of the house, my friends would turn me out of society, and my creditors would turn me out of the country! So you see, now, what 1 mean, when I say that I am in a fix.”
“I see/” I admitted, in a bewildered tone. “ But what can I do ? As far as , my own allowance goes, you shall have it always, and as much more as I can save besides, when I come of age.”
“ Allowance !33 scornfully. “ A wretched little mite! You might as well offer me half-a-crownIT IS FOR YOU TO RANSOM MET 35
a week at once, or attempt to bale the sea with a bucket. Have I not impressed upon you that it is now, or never! I talk of thousands in a week’s time; you prate of an allowance, and years.—You are really enough to drive me mad ! ”
“And what can I do ? Have you any plan ? ” I asked, with an effort.
“ Yes, and my plan is this:	If I have not
four thousand pounds by next Saturday, life will be played out for me,—and worthless. I shall not choose to exist as a disgraced woman, at whose name every one shrugs their shoulders. Imagine the triumph of Mrs. Flatt-Sole, of Mrs. Smith-$mith, and the delight of that old-clothes woman, your dear Mrs. Gimlette ! I shall never drag out my days in a miserable lodging -— a shabby Arab, without means to enjoy life, without means to dress, without means to do more than keep body and soul together ! No ; I shall go down with my colours nailed to the mast—I shall destroy myself ! ”
Oh, never! ” I almost shrieked.
“Yes,” she replied resolutely, bringing her
d 236	‘ DIANA BARRINGTON.
glittering dark eyes to bear on mine. “I have long carried a bottle—a dear little bottle, about with me. It contains a deadly, but not unpleasant poison—Extract of Indian Hemp—four drops in a cup of coffee—and—you sleep, and never wake again. If I cannot extricate myself from this pit of despair, I shall fall back on that—as my very last resource. You are my last but one. I mean what I say. I shall do it, as surely as I stand here. So you see, that you, to whom I gave life, absolutely hold my life in your hands. It is for you to ransom me, for four thousand pounds—or to let me perish.”
“ Mother ! mother! ” I sobbed, now wringing my hands in a state of distraction. “You are my mother, and I will abide by whatever you say. Tell ( me quickly what I am to do, and how I am to save you ! ”
“Yes—I will tell you, without a moment's delay,” she answered promptly, her face relaxing from a sort of strained expression. “You shall hear, how you can ransom me, my daughter. You have your marvellous diamonds—they are“IT IS FOR YOU TO RANSOM ME:
37
absolutely your own; neither tied up or entailed. I am surprised that it has not already occurred to you—that—you can pawn—or sell— the Begum's necklace ! ”CHAPTER III.
“AS EASY AS 'A B C.’ ”
“ I do perceive here a divided duty.”
Othello.
So I could ! I could sell my necklace! The idea flashed upon me now; for the first time. The diamonds were entirely my own property, to dispose of as I pleased.
“Yes/’ I said; “ of course there are the diamonds.”
“They are too valuable, and too startling to sell; and there would be no market for them here, in such a limited time,” said Mrs. Vavasour thoughtfully. “ The only arrangement possible, will be to raise money on them“AS EASY AS (A B C7 ”
39
the more the better/' she added, with unusual vivacity.
“ But what am I to say to Hugh ? ” I timidly inquired.
“Nothing!” she answered sharply. “ Would you study what you are ‘to say to Hugh/ when, as you know, my very existence is trembling in the balance ? I declare, Diana, you are like your father, utterly unsympathetic, and as hard as granite.”
“ Oh, mother, mother, don’t say that! ” I cried, covering my eyes with my hands, to conceal the tears which were trickling down my cheeks. “You know I would do anything for you; anything but lose Hugh, and already he is changed to me, because of you.”
“ Then let him change back again! If a pretty girl, with a large fortune, and a sweet, yielding disposition, is not able to keep her hold* upon her husband, I say, let him GO. And now, to wind up our little business, you have heard of ‘ Coopoodoo/ the great banker, jeweller, and money-lender ? His headquarters are here. He deals in jewels, as well as in advancing40
DIANA BARRINGTON.
cash at twenty-five per cent. He will take the necklace. Lawrence's niece is coming to-morrow, to stay a week, and I cannot possibly get away, I am sorry to say; for I had fully intended to have managed this affair myself and taken all the trouble off your hands.”
So it had all been planned, and thought out, before ! I realised this with a sharp pang.
“ You will be swindled, of course ; your very face, so innocent and guileless, seems to say: ■ Cheat me!’ However, Julian Hassard shall go with you as my deputy. He, alone, knows our secret, and he will manage the business capitally, for in his wild days, long ago, he had many dealings with the soucars, on his own account."
“No—no—no,” I said impatiently; “ I would rather go alone—I would rather he did not know."
“ Then the whole affair will fall through. What do you know of business, or of raising money?”
This was true; I knew no more about such things than Billy, the black kitten.
“ Once you have promised, you will not turn“AS EASY AS (A B CS”
4i
back,? And as to objecting to poor Julian Hassard’s company 1 have you not driven about with him in his stanhope for hours ? And what is the difference between driving in a stanhope in the evening, and down to the Bazaar in a brougham in the morning ? ”
True—indeed; where was the difference? “Well, I suppose it must be as you say/* I admitted, after a long pause.
“ Yes, I have thought it all out carefully. I shall send Julian a line, and tell him to go and have tea with you to-morrow afternoon, and talk it all over. He will manage the bargaining and the business ; you have nothing to do but to hand the necklace to Coopoodoo, sign your name, and bring me back a cheque, and my freedom—it is all as easy as A B C!,;
“ It is as easy as A B C to you, who are not an actor in the play; but it is not the same to me. I have already learnt that it is as easy as A B C, to get into scrapes with Hugh; but the riddle of the sphinx is a mere child's play to the difficulty of getting out of his black books.—I am deep in them already."42
DIANA BARRINGTON
“ Nonsense! Rubbish! He is away now most providentially, and he will never know about this scrape. That I guarantee! You are not half-—half bold enough, my pretty Diana. A girl with your face might brave Blue Beard himself! ! Well, I declare, there is twelve o’clock striking, and we must go at once—come along.’*
We walked down the steps together, and through that lovely, moonlit garden, with its groves of oranges, and borders of rose-trees, scenting the cool, still air. There was not a sound to be heard, but the croak of a frog in a pool, or the flapping of a passing bat. Who would believe that this fragrant, peaceful spot existed in the very heart of a great military station ? And what a contrast, its peaceful beauty formed, to the wild excitement of my own mind—my mind, which was the scene of a mortal combat between warring impulses— Duty to my husband, and Duty to my mother —fought hand to hand!
The sound of our high-heeled shoes, crunching the gravel, awoke Mrs. Vavasours sleeping coachman; he rubbed his eyes, and stared at“AS EASY AS ‘A B C.’”
43
me in sleepy astonishment; then we both got into the brougham, which left me at the corner of a road, close to our Bungalow; there I descended, and ran home as fast as I could, and felt deeply humiliated, and depressed, as I crept in stealthily by my dressing - room door. I found Pallia awaiting me—silence on her lips, suspicion in her eye—more than suspicion— accusation!
Her silence was a relief—I was far too preoccupied to talk. As she was brushing my hair, I suddenly remembered the letter, and I desired Pallia to search' the pocket of my dress, and hand it to me. I opened the envelope, and found within it, five sheets of closely-written pages, which pages Pallia literally glared at; then she found her tongue, and burst out:
' “When master coming home? Poor master! I wish master was at home! ”
(For my own part, I was devoutly thankful that he was not.)
“Never mind poor master !” I rejoined impatiently. “ It is nearly one o’clock, Pallia— go to your bed.”44
DIANA BARRINGTON.
“Missy not going yet?” she asked, with affected surprise.
“No.”
“No! Missy going to read letter!” And with one long, lingering look, she stalked away, leaving me to peruse my epistle undisturbed. I read it over three times, and I think I could write it down, almost word for word.CHAPTER IV.
A LETTER.
“ Thou canst not say I did it.”
Macbeth. u Tuesday Night
“My dear Diana,—
“ Instead of telling you my history by word of mouth, I think it will be simpler and pleasanter to write it all down, and give it to you to read at your leisure. I make one stipulation, namely, that when we meet, you never by word, or hint, refer to what I am about to record for your sole benefit.
“ In the first place, I was born more than forty-one years ago at Maidstone, in Kent, where my father was a doctor in fairly good practice. I was one of a numerous flock. We were eleven in46
DIANA BARRINGTON
number, and I must say that I agree with my brother George, who declared that every second girl in a large family ought to be drowned in infancy : there were nine of ns ! Whilst I was still in short frocks and Butter's spelling, my eldest sister, Jessie, had the great good luck to marry an Indian judge, who carried her off to the land of the sun, to the intense satisfaction of herself and her relations. We were poor, and obscure, and had no fortunes beyond our faces; but our faces were attractive, and we were called c the Fair Maids of Kent/ and we had strong hopes that Jessie—to whom we were all now greatly attached—and with whom we constantly corresponded, would give her pretty sister a chance in the Indian market. (If I seem to write frivolously, dear, it is the fault of too glib a pen, and not the true nature of my aching heart.) At first, Jessie merely sent presents of Cashmere cloaks, filagree work, and curry ; but at last she wrote for Ada, and in six months' time Ada was married to a wealthy civilian. After Ada, Annie went out—but poor Annie died, and then there was a pause. Then Ada sent for May, andA LETTER.
47
married her off in a short time to a colonel of Hussars. This was brilliant! I came next to May in age, and far before her in looks, and Jessie, not to be surpassed by Ada, sent for me, and I, and my outfit—which was in reality my trousseau—and all that father could afford to give me, were despatched with gratifying alacrity.
Cil was very pretty, with golden hair, brown eyes, and roses, and lilies, and innocence, in my face; I was far better-looking than you, my pale Diana, in spite of your haunting eyes. I had a great success ; all the bachelors of Tom-Tombad were at my feet. Yes, old and young, rich and poor; I could, as Jessie triumphantly expressed it, have married any one within fifty miles. And the man of her choice was Sir Hector Mac-Ostrich, K.C.B., bald, bloated, and burly, but rich, renowned, and absolutely silly about me. Sir Hector was Jessie’s beau ideal—mine was a very different person. A handsome, and fascinating subaltern, as penniless as myself—his name was Algernon Garnett. To Jessie he was a detestable detrimental, to me he was divine.48
DIANA BARRINGTON.
I would marry AJgy and no one else. Vainly my sister stormed, and raved, and sarcastically inquired, ‘ What we were going to live on ?9 and cruelly reminded me, that Algy had not yet proposed.
(SC No, but he will/ I returned, fully confident that Algy loved me and none other. How many times had he hinted as much! How many times, had the question seemed trembling on his lips ! How many moonlight walks, how many rides and dances had we mutually enjoyed ! In short, his attentions were so marked that my large circle of admirers, seeing that they were not appreciated, began to melt away, to sheer off, including, to Jessie’s distraction, Sir Hector MacOstrich, K.C.B.! f I tell you what it is,’ she said to me furiously, f if you persist in your mad folly, and will marry (if he asks you) this beggarly “ Sub.” when you could have been Lady MacOstrich, I wash my hands of you, for ever. To think of my getting you out and paying for your passage, knowing you were the beauty of the family, and expecting that you would do me credit, and make a grander match than May’s,A LETTER.
49
that Ada is always bragging about; and here you are, with all your chances, going to throw yourself away—and do worse than marry a poor curate at home—for the curate would neither drink or gamble, and Algy Garnett does both' Many and violent were the quarrels between Jessie and me, and her husband naturally took her part. My life was anything but a bed of roses, and my only solace was in Algy’s society. Judge, then, of Jessie’s joy, when he was suddenly ordered off at a day’s notice, and although he bade me a tender, if hurried farewell, he never breathed a word that could be construed into an offer of marriage. I was heart-broken, and not merely heart-broken, I was most bitterly humiliated. ‘All the world/ quoth Jessie—and what a tongue she had!— ‘ knew that I was desperately in love with Algy Garnett, and that he had flirted, and ridden away! ’ How she triumphed! And how I hated her, although she was my own sister! I resolved to have a home of my own, at any price. And Sir Hector, having departed, I accepted the attentions of a new adorer, a hand-
vol. in.
E5o
DIANA BARRINGTON.
some, clever, rather taciturn worshipper — one John Barrington—a rising civil surgeon, with a large practice, and considerable savings. I did not pretend to care for him—not much—but he was satisfied with my graciously permitting him to love me, and I was satisfied, to leave Jessie’s house, to be my own mistress, and to have a devoted slave.—The happy day was fixed, my wedding-cake had arrived, I had been endowed with many presents, varying in value from a butter-knife to a buggy, and the ceremony was to take place in three days’ time, when I received a letter from Algy—the first I had ever had. e Heartless wretch ! ’ I said, as I tore it open. 4 A note of congratulation, of course.’ But no—ere * I got to the bottom of the first page, I saw that it was the long-delayed offer of marriage, and rushing breathless into Jessie’s room, threw it into her lap, and cried : '
It is not too late yet!
“ He said that circumstances, which he would explain hereafter, had prevented him from asking me to be his wife; but that now he was in a position to speak, and that nothing couldA LETTER,.
5i
paint his anxiety of mind, lest I had doubted him—that surely I had guessed his feelings, and knew that his heart was mine, and that he would never sleep or rest till he received my answer—an answer upon which all his future happiness in life depended. I now know that it was a cruel letter—which cost him nothing, but a half-anna stamp. What did it not cost me?
"I was quivering with emotion, as Jessie calmly perused it, and walked about the room, in a state of frantic joy!
“'The man is mad! ’ she said at last. 'He only sends you this letter, to upset you/
Jessie \} I screamed.
"'Yes/ she persisted. 'He knows perfectly well, that you are on the eve of being married, and that your answer must be, No! Why, Captain Jones, who chums with him, sent you a cruet-stand' three weeks ago; and even if the letter was not prompted by the wicked desire to disturb your mind, and retain your affection —he is months too late; he cannot marry you NOW/
E 2$2
DIANA BARRINGTON
“ I argued, pleaded, stormed; but I could not move her. The wedding must go on—either that) or I went home in the very next steamer! As a last resource, I sent for the bridegroom. I had a most terrible interview with him; I told him the whole story, I showed him the letter, and besought him to release me—and he would not!
“‘You are the only woman, I have ever cared for/ he said. ‘ I have staked my all on you. I know that I shall make you happy, and I shall never relinquish you to any one but Death. I know Algy Garnett, he is an unscrupulous, unprincipled, handsome scamp ; he would tire of you in three months* time, and bring you to misery, want, and beggary. I know him as he really is—you do not/
“ True, too true ; love IS blind.
“Vainly I protested, and vainly I wept. I might just as well have protested, and wept, before a graven image. The wedding was to be. Jessie and my lover, were both too strong for me—they were armed with the conviction, that they were acting for my true happiness ;A LETTER.
53
and when people have this weapon in their hands—they show no mercy.
“ My true happiness ! What hollow mockery ! I wrote one wild, distracted letter to Algy, and shut myself up in my room till the day of the wedding. Then I appeared calm, and self-possessed \—but I was not a pretty bride, despite my magnificent satin gown. I believe the guests whispered among themselves, that I looked both white and sullen.
“As we, the happy couple, drove off after the ceremony, I turned to my husband, and said :
“‘Poor man! I pity you.—The day will come, when you will find that you had been wiser to have put a pistol to your head, and blown your brains out, than have married me against my will. You will repent this day, yet.9
“‘Never/ he answered bravely. ‘Never, whilst I live—or you either/
“After this, we went to reside at Agra, and under the influence of every possible indulgence, and unlimited admiration, my smiles returned, and I cheered up. None so gay as pretty Mrs.54
DIANA BARRINGTON
Barrington. I spent money as it were, with both hands, and my husband granted all my caprices, without the least hesitation. I had horses, carriages, jewels, dresses ; I gave entertainments that would not have been out of place at Government House. I dressed, and danced, and rode, and flirted, and treated my husband as if he was my slave. And so he was; he worshipped me; and the more I plagued him, the harder he worked, that I might play, and be excessively happy. Looking back dispassionately on my life, I have come to the conclusion that I was happy—these were my best days! Then your brother was born, and I must confess that I was deeply disgusted. I never pretended to care for children, and they returned the compliment most cordially. Little Arthur was a sickly, wailing, importunate infant; he lived for twd years, and then, in the hot weather, he pined away. And yes — I was sorry — really sorry ; and 1 cried a good deal, when they put him into his tiny white coffin. But you were a sweet little darling, with golden hair like floss silk, and always well, and always happy. I wasA LETTER.
55
proud of you, and had you in to show off at all my tiffin parties.
“We had a very gay season in ’64. I had scores of engagements, and many pretty dresses— ay, and many pretty bills. Your father now began to be seriously alarmed, arid to remonstrate with me, and say that I was ruining him; but I believed that he was coining money, so I merely laughed in his face, and spent—or owed—as much as ever!
“ Our first serious difference was • about the Begum’s necklace. He would not allow me to wear it; so, when he went away for a few days, I got it out, and wore it night after night, at dinners, concerts, and balls. He was very angry —for him. I had never seen him angry before. He said that I had vowed to love, honour, and obey. I replied, ‘Nothing of the sort!—that I had vowed to love, honour, and be gay l and would obey no one/
“This was the beginning of many quarrels —quarrels which generally took place after balls, when I had been admired, and when he had been jealous.56
DIANA BARRINGTON.
“ Then Algy Garnett came to Agra, and, needless to write it, your father viewed the renewal of our friendship with the strongest disfavour. He sternly forbade me, to ask Algy to the house, or to dance, or ride with him, and I snapped my fingers at his orders—and we had some unpleasant scenes. He was never loud or violent; but he was stern and determined in his rages, and frightened me, and I promised most solemnly to give up all acquaintance with Algy Garnett. And now, when all is over, and I look back upon those days, as if they were a dream, I must confess that I provoked him beyond all bounds, and that he was a good, just, and honourable man—generous, and long-suffering, to the last degree.
“Algy Garnett, and another officer, gave a ball, to which we were asked—indeed, I may say that it was given for me l Your father would not hear of my going, naturally—and he left the station to visit a distant patient. Nevertheless, in spite of his orders, I went to the ball, fully resolved to enjoy myself. After all, what was a scolding? and as I was whirl-A LETTER.
57
ing round the room in Algy’s arms, my heart leapt into my mouth, for there in a doorway stood your father—a most unwelcome spectator. How dark his face was—he looked as if he would kill me. I hurried my partner out of the crowd, and told him my fears ; he tried to appease them, to the best of his power. Then I went home, and then came the storm.
'	“ Diana, I declare to you most solemnly,
that if your father had not terrified me, and threatened me, and told me he would carry me off to a little up-country station—where I would never see a soul — I would never have done it. As it was, I ran away in my ball-dress to Captain Garnett’s Bungalow, and threw myself on his protection.
“ It	was	a mad	act,	and I repented it
almost instantly. Repented it the moment I saw Algy’s	face of	horror, and embarrass-
ment; but it was too late to retract — my reputation was gone! and there was nothing for it,	but	to wait	for	a divorce, and then
marry.	We	went home	to England, and I
tried to Give it down.’ I tried hard! I abased53
DIANA BARRINGTON.
myself to people I despised ; I was good-natured to people I loathed; I devoured humble pie! but it was all of no avail! I led a miserable life. Algy tired of me in less than three months, and daily upbraided me, with having ruined his prospects, and spoiled his career. And we were so poor! Algy gambled, squandered, caroused, and amused himself—whilst I, in squalid lodgings, or a bare barrack-room, often dined on dry bread and weak tea. He had society—I had none. I was poverty-stricken, pinched, and shabby; and who would know the notorious Mrs. Garnett ? After months of misery, and privation, diphtheria (which was raging in the town where we were quartered) attacked both Algy and me. I had a desperate struggle for life—Algy died, and I was left destitute—worse, for I was in debt. It was in those days of grinding poverty, that I learnt to be a professor of the art—and it is an art— of staving off bills, and reassuring impatient creditors. I wrote to your father’s agents, and he generously sent me five hundred pounds, which set me up in life once more. I purchased a rich and tasteful outfit, as a sort of stock-in-A LETTER.
59
trade, and accepted a situation as chaperone and companion to a wealthy Dutch family in Singapore. On my passage out, I met Mr. Vavasour. We saw a good deal of each other on board the steamer.—He fell in love with the pretty, forlorn widow, and we were married in Calcutta. I have been Mrs. Vavasour for fifteen years. As Mrs. Barrington, or Mrs. Garnett, I am forgotten by the world. If any one thinks of either reckless Mrs. Barrington, or shabby Mrs. Garnett, they believe her to be dead. My sisters cast me off eighteen years ago, and I have no claim ,—I mean the claim of affection—on any of my own sex but yourself. You see how my life has been blighted, my child. How hardly fate has used me! And I am convinced, that your tender little heart, will ache for me. Now you know all—now you have heard MY side of the story— you will surely say—that I am far more to be pitied, than blamed !
Here I came to the end of the last sheet, and conclusion of the letter.CHAPTER V.
“THE DIAMONDS MUST GO.”
“ Though this may be play to you,
’Tis death to us.”
Roger L’Estrange.
At five o’clock the next day, Colonel Hassard came up behind his glossy bays, looking exceptionally spruce—even for him. He never seemed to wear quite the same garments as other men, or to put them on in the same way. Hugh always declared, that he gave HIM the idea of being very carefully dressed by his mamma, and then told to run about, and not spoil his clothes ! All the same, Hugh himself was excessively fastidious about the cut of his boots and coats ; and as to his shirts, and collars! the harried andTHE DIAMONDS MUST GO:
61
heart-broken Dhoby could a tale unfold. I think Colonel Hassard, had an inkling that Hugh did not admire him, and once or twice he gently, and half playfully, hinted that Hugh was rather fond of bachelor amusements, such as polo, shooting, and racing, and did not half appreciate the domestic treasure he possessed. These hints were as vague, and unsubstantial, as gossamer—so delicately were they insinuated ;—had there been anything tangible to take hold of, I would have seized upon it indignantly. Still, when Colonel Hassard, and his smiles, had departed, he left some uncomfortable thorn-pricks, rankling in my mind.
“You are looking very pale and fagged, my little cousin,” observed my visitor, still holding my hand in his, and gazing tenderly into my face.
“ I have a headache, that is all,” I replied, snatching away my fingers, and sitting down abruptly.
“Fll tell you what I think, shall I?” he asked, in a confidential tone, as he took a seat beside me. “ You are a bit moped—you are tooÓ2
DIANA BARRINGTON.
much alone. Come now, confess, hasn’t Fitzroy gone off to the Cheetapore Races ? ”
“ He has done nothing of the sort,” I answered sharply. “ He has gone to the camp of exercise, as General Green’s A.D.C.”
“ Oh—well—all right, all right,” putting up his hand deprecatingly. “ I only know, that I would not leave my wife day after day all alone.”
“What do you mean?” I inquired. “ Is Hugh not to do his duty ? ”
“ No—but I think he puts too much aside for what he calls duty,” he replied, with an air of sorrowful disapproval. “ He never rides with you of a morning. I come in here of an afternoon, and find you alone. , Later on, he is away at racquets or polo—such men ought never to marry.”
“ You mean that Hugh ought never to have married me ! ”
“ I do,” he returned, with an air of the deepest solemnity.
“And I entirely differ from you,” I said hotly. “ He suits me perfectly. I should hate“ THE DIAMONDS MUST GO”	63
a man who took an hour over his tie, lolled on a sofa, reading poetry, or sat hand-in-hand with me looking at the moon, and criticised my dress like a milliner. I like to know that my husband is a man, and not an old woman. He shoots tigers, plays polo, and rides races, with my full approval/* I concluded breathlessly.
“ Long, long may he continue to do so, my dear Mrs. Fitzroy—a wife, with your views, deserves to be canonised! You are an angel, superior to the petty feelings of your sex.
Nevertheless, I should have thought------” And
here he paused abruptly.
“ Thought what ? " I asked impatiently.
“Never mind, never mind — least said is soonest mended, and we won't quarrel. I'll just leave my little thought, to be supplied by your own imagination. Don’t mind me. Fitzroy is a capital fellow, and we won’t say another word about him—especially as you look tired and worried. Mrs. Vavasour told me to come here this afternoon, as you wanted to see me most particularly/’64
DIANA BARRINGTON
“ Yes,” I replied, with an involuntary sigh.
“Your husband does not like Mrs. Vavasour, and knows—nothing ? ” he asked, with a glance full of keen, and searching expression.
“Nothing,” I answered faintly.
“ He has forbidden you to go to her house, and I hear that you evaded that little difficulty, by meeting her in the Temple Gardens. How soon a girl learns the lesson to deceive! ” But he smiled quite benignantly.
“ Colonel Hassard,” I said bitterly, “ do you think I like deceiving Hugh? You know little what it costs me. I am torn in two between my duty to my mother, and my duty to my husband.”
“And HE goes to the wall,” he exclaimed. “But—hush—I forgot, that in these little Bungalows, with three or four doors into every room, every word is audible; and you cannot imagine the interest that native servants take in our affairs, and how we are discussed, commented on, and weighed in the balance with other masters and mistresses; all our little foibles, and all our dearest secrets, are a common topic of con versa-“ THE DIAMONDS MUST GOT	65
tion in the Bazaar. You are cross with me this evening! You have forgotten to put sugar in my tea.—Show that you are magnanimous, and come with me for a nice long drive round the race-course; it will do your head good.	You can then tell me, in what
way I can serve you, and we will have no listeners.”
This seemed a good idea.—I knew Pallia to be an indefatigable eavesdropper, and indeed as I rose, and went to get my hat, I overtook her, leaving the dining-room, with rather suspicious haste.
“I am going out, Pallia,” I said, “and I want my hat, and things at once.”
She made no answer at the moment; but as she handed me my shoes, she looked at me fixedly, and said abruptly :
“When master coming home?”
“What do you mean?" I asked. “Do you suppose that master would object to my driving with Colonel Hassard, you stupid woman ? Where is the harm—and why not ? ”
“"Why not, indeed?” shrugging her fat
VOL. in.
F66
DIANA BARRINGTON.
shoulders. “When one has given the elephant, why dispute about the goad ? ”
I stared at her, much mystified by this dark saying.
“Tell me at once, Pallia, what you are driving at ? ”
“ Missy getting long, long letters—like one book. Missy going out alone at night, walking, to Temple Gardens. Poor master! I wish Peggy was here."
This aspiration showed, that she was literally at her wits5 end. Pallia evidently thought that I was embarked in a serious flirtation with Colonel Hassard—a man who was twenty-five years older than myself, and whom I looked upon as a sort of uncle!
The idea did not make me angry—it was too, funny—-much too funny. I leant back in my chair, and indulged in a fit of almost hysterical laughter. I laughed, till the tears actually coursed down my cheeks.
When I had recovered my gravity, I stood up, and dried my eyes, and told Pallia “that she was ten times more foolish than she usedTHE DIAMONDS MUST GOi
6 7
to be/7 and hastily taking my gloves, and parasol, I went out, and joined my cavalier.
“You seemed to be enjoying an excellent joke just now/' he remarked a little suspiciously. “ Is it transferable ?77
“No/7 I replied confusedly, and becoming rather red, “ it is not, and it was a very poor jest indeed, one of Pallia7s; but it made me laugh—little things, amuse little minds.77
I noticed her, watching secretly in the side verandah, as we drove rapidly away. We avoided the popular resorts — band, polo ground, and gardens, and soon arrived at the deserted racecourse, and turning our heads in the direction of the breeze (such as it was), came to a standstill.—I removed my hat, for my head was burning.
“Now/7 said my companion abruptly, “let us have our talk out. What is this mysterious piece of business ?77
“It is ,Mrs. Vavasour’s business,” I answered promptly. “ She is in absolute need of four thousand pounds, and must have it by Saturday, without fail.77
F 268
DIANA BARRINGTON.
Here Colonel Hassard was surprised into executing a long whistle.
“ And Trom what direction, is this large sum going to fall into her lap ? ”
“ From the direction of my jewel-case,” I replied. “ I am going to sell my diamonds.” “To pay her debts — never, as long as I can speak against it. I see she is just the same , as she was in former days, a kind of Juggernaut car, to all her worshippers.”
“ Oh, Colonel Hassard, don’t!” I exclaimed. “ She is in desperate straits. If she cannot get this money she is ruined, and she has no one to look to but me.”
“You, and she, seem to consider your husbands mere outsiders,” and he laughed a short, odd laugh.
“I do not; but she has sealed my lips. I have promised never to tell Hugh.”
“A wonderful woman!” he ejaculated—aa wonderful woman ! ”
“ And I am to raise money on my necklace at once,” I continued ; “ it is worth thousands. You have seen it, have you not? Coopoodoo“ THE DIAMONDS MUST GOT	69
is the man to deal with, and \ye are to take it to him to-morrow.”
“ We ? ” he echoed, rather sharply. “ What do you mean by we ? ”
“Did she not tell you, that you are to go with me ? ” I asked in great surprise. “ She said you would manage everything, and that I had nothing to do but sign my name.”
“ And hand over the diamonds ? Well, it is not a business, that I shall countenance at all.” “Then I must go alone,” I said firmly. “It must be done, and done without any delay,” my mind recalling her threat about the dear little bottle, and her face of stern resolution. “ I understood that it would be all arranged between you and Mrs. Vavasour, and that I had nothing to do but go with you.”
“ I never heard a word about it until now” he answered emphatically. “ She knows that I would do nothing for her; I would not walk across the road to please her. But for you, my kind, sympathetic little cousin, I would go to^ the end of the world,” he added in a lower tone, and looking me full in the face.70
DIANA BARRINGTON
“Would you? And yet the first time I ask you to help me, you say, no” I retorted, with tears standing in my eyes. “ I shall be dreadfully frightened—going alone. I know so little about borrowing money.”
“ Of course. When you talk in that way, you put me in a corner at once,” he said plaintively. “ Who could say no, to a pair of pretty eyes, with tears in them?”
“ Don't—don’t talk like that,” I interrupted angrily. “ I hate it! ”
“Well, then, I won’t; though, of course, you know that you are very pretty—pretty enough to rule the station! There — there! no more. Of course, I must do whatever you want; though I never undertook a task for which I had less relish—but your wishes are law to me.”
“ Why ? ” I asked, rather fiercely.
“ Oh—well—because—I am—your — friend — your relative—and—and—in short—because they are-——” he stammered out in broken sentences.
“ It is very good of ‘ you to offer to help me,” I replied, already contrite for my rude, abrupt query. “ I will tell you at once, what“THE DIAMONDS MUST GOT
71
we are to do. We must go to Coopoodoo tomorrow, leave my-necklace, and bring away four thousand pounds/'
“ I see ! You put the matter in a nut-shell; but it is not half as easy, as it sounds. We must manage to have a private interview with olcj Coopoodoo, the head of the firm, and this requires due notice; we could not manage it before Friday. Just let me think it over for a moment," and he paused reflectively, and stared at his boots. At this instant, a gay carriage came up behind us, and dashed past, in a little cloud of dust. “ There she goes," he exclaimed, “on the box of the General's drag, enjoying life as usual, to the utmost drop of the cup of pleasure; whilst you and I sit here, plotting on her behalf like a couple of conspirators ; you in tears —tears for her debts and difficulties—difficulties that she always slips out of, as a snake out of its skin! or that she fastens securely, on other people’s shoulders."
“Colonel Hassard," I said appealingly, “do not say such things—they hurt me."
“ Call me Cousin Julian, and I’ll never breathe7 2
DIANA BARRINGTON.
a syllable to displease you, and Pll undertake this business, as if it was my own.”
* “Then, Cousin Julian,” I promptly rejoined, “ please do not say anything more, about Mrs. Vavasour.”
“ Only just one question. What excuse has she provided you with; what sop are you to throw Fitzroy, when he misses your necklace ? ^
“No excuse; nothing,” I answered, rather dismally.
“•Then, take my advice before it is too late: go home now, and write to her, and say that you have found the scheme impracticable.—I will wait for the note, and leave it at her house myself.”
“ No, no,” I replied. “ I see even clearer than you can, the risks I am running; but run them I must.—The diamonds are my own ; it is I who lose them, no one else; and as to
Hugh------” Here I was obliged to stop, and gulp
down a very uncomfortable lump in my throat.
“ And as to Hugh—he has an imperturbable good temper,” he added cheerfully, “ and you can turn him round your little finger ? ”“ THE DIAMONDS MUST GO.
73
And he laughed interrogatively, and looked at me with a rather odd expression, in his light gray eyes. I made no reply to this, and only said in a low voice:
“ The diamonds must go. I have no alternative.”
“ Well, then, I shall call for you on Friday at eleven o’clock ; be ready. And perhaps you might as well wear a veil. We will go to old Coopoodoo’s private residence, and see what we can do with him. I expect we shall work it all right between us. And now, as it is getting late, we had better be moving.”
“ Good-bye,” I said, as I descended at home. u You will not fail me on Friday, will you ? ”
“Neither Friday, or ever,” was his chivalrous reply.CHAPTER VI.
COOPOODOO THE SOUCAR.
“ Some of us will smart for it.”
Much Ado About Nothing.
Punctually at eleven o’clock on Friday, I was ready, veiled—with a handbag on my arm containing the Begum’s necklace; but it was past twelve o’clock, before Colonel Hassard called for me, and hurried me into his neat little brougham. As we drove out of one gate, visitors drove in at the other, and as they subsequently passed us, I saw, that it was Mrs. Lawless, and another lady! She could not possibly recognise me through a white gauze veil, and I gazed at her in unaffected amazement, and consternation. What had brought her to Sindi ?COOPOODOO THE SOUCAR.
75
Colonel Hassard presently pulled up the Venetian shutters, as he found the glare of the hot white roads insufferable, and we drove along in semi-darkness, through unfamiliar and unfashionable parts of the cantonment—through a great Bazaar, lined with narrow little shops displaying bales of brilliantly coloured cotton, and silk goods, alluring to the native eye; and finally we arrived at a large stone house, surrounded by high, weather-stained walls. It had once been the residence of some important European functionary, but now it was abandoned to Coopoodoo & Co. We drove into a- courtyard, half court, half garden, with large shrubs, and orange-trees in painted tubs, and drew up before a long verandah, thronged with moneychangers, borrowers, and peons. Colonel Hassard whispered a word to one of these latter, and immediately afterwards we were ushered into a large office, where many clerks were at work. From the office we passed into another large room at the back—and here Coopoodoo himself presided, sitting at a table; half-a-dozen men sat cross-legged on a divan, that76
DIANA BARRINGTON
ran round the apartment, writing busily — all Hindoos, all clad in showy garments, all clean, immovable, and supercilious. I suppose the important function of lending money, had grown into their minds, and given them a mean opinion of their fellow-creatures.
Coopoodoo himself rose, and salaamed. He was an elderly man, enormously fat, and had a big, round face, a little hard black eye, and an unctuous smile. He wore a small white turban, and thin spotted muslin clothes; his breast was perfectly bare, and round his fat neck, hung a massive gold chain. He also displayed a splendid ring on either little finger, and great diamonds sparkled in his ears. He spoke English remarkably well, but rather slowly, and said, as he waved us into two chairs, and rubbed his large fat hands:
(C What can I do for you to-day ?,f
“We wish to raise a sum of money on some diamonds,” replied Colonel Hassard, in an off-hand way, leaning his arm on the top of the hand, which held his inseparable walking-stick.COOPOODOO THE SOUCAR.
77
“ Diamonds! Ah, they are a drug in the market. The African diamond fields have reduced their value enormously, and place them within the reach of everybody/”
“True,” assented my companion politely. “ Small stones ; but I believe fine ones still hold their own ? ”
“By fine stones, you mean flawless, and of a good colour,” glancing complacently at one of his rings. “These always do, command a certain marketable value. But money is scarce,
and times are bad, and-----”
Here Coopoodoo groaned as if in mortal agony, and in a mannner that made me start; but I presently discovered, that it was a habit of his ; —possibly contracted to extort sympathy during some illness, and never subsequently abandoned.
“This lady,” he continued, looking sharply at me, “wishes to sell her diamonds?”
“Yes, or tq raise money on them,” I answered timidly.
“Call Mr. Schammel,” he said, turning to a Portuguese clerk. “Mr. Schammel is a German specialist, of great experience,” he explained to78
DIANA BARRINGTON.
us. ‘ “ He does business for me, and can tell the value of a stone to a pice, and its weight to a grain, at the first glance—though I am not a very bad judge myself.”
“You dt> a good deal of business in jewellery,^ said Colonel Hassard.
“ Pretty well! For Nawabs and that; not much European business.”
“No! With them it is another branch— and one which pays better—the money-lending at twenty-five per cent., on the best securities.”
“Ah,” with a shrug of his fat shoulders. “It may seem high interest; but consider our risks! consider our losses! We do not clear more than eighteen per cent. Think of the officers who go away to England, and never pay. Think of the expense of sending agents after them—to the Punjaub, Cashmere, and even to Persia! ”
“You always reach them, I know. In England or Persia, it is all one ; you have firms who do your business at the client's expense, and they lay their hands on him at once.”COOPOODOO THE SOUCAR.
79
“ Well, think of the officers who die in our debt ? How can we reach them f ” he asked tragically. “ There was • a colonel who died of cholera six months ago ■— he owed us eight thousand rupees.”
“How sad ! Well, you could stand more than that, Coopoodoo Ragoo.”
“Yes—I do not deny that we have made handsomely' by officers — in former years they were in our books for all their service.—Ay, and civil employ was good too. But now times are changed. People do not spend as they did, they try, and live within their means! ” And he groaned and shook his head, as much as to say that they were all miserable creatures ! “ Ah—this is Mr. Schammel at last,” as a stout German, in large gold spectacles, came hurrying in.
“ Mr. Schammel, this lady has some diamonds to show. She wants to raise money on them.” Mr. Schammel bowed to me — rubbed his hands, and looked amused ; decidedly their expectations of the value of my jewels were on a very moderate scale.8o
DIANA BARRINGTON.
“ Perhaps madam would allow us to see the stones ? ” said the German, with a strong“ accent.
‘•‘Certainly,” I answered, hastily fumbling at my bag.
“Are they Brazilian, or African?” he inquired. “Stars, ear-rings, or brooches?”
“No,” I returned, still wrestling with the lock; “the diamonds are Indian, and the ornament I wish to sell is a necklace.”
“ A rivière ? ”
“You shall see it immediately,” I responded,, now pulling out the parcel of chamois leather. “ If you will kindly clear a space on the table, you can then judge of it for yourself.”
The table was covered with a dark red cloth, and books, and papers were hurriedly moved aside. The conviction that I was about to open Mr. Schammefs eyes, gave me a certain amount of courage. It was the last triumph, that my precious necklace was ever likely to afford me. As I slowly unrolled it, I thought of the murmurs of admiration, and the whispers, and glances that surrounded me, when it flashed upon my neck.COOPOODOO THE SOUCAR.	81
I deftly unwrapped it, and with a quick movement, laid the dazzling object on the red cloth. It sparkled, it blazed, the stones seemed to run into one another, and make a blinding band of light. For fully as long as you could count twenty, there was a dead silence, and then Herr Schammel, for once thrown off his professional balance, loudly ejaculated :
“ Gott in Himmel! ”
Coopoodoo merely groaned heavily. At last he said:
“ This is the most—most—extraordinary article I have seen for some time.”
“ It is not extraordinary,” said Colonel Hassard coolly. “ It is absolutely unique, and is, as it is—as I am sure you are aware—matchless.” Coopoodoo, and the German, continued to stare, and one or two of the clerks. stole up, and looked over their shoulders. All the faces expressed amazement, slightly tinctured with awe. Mr. Schammel now sat down, and drew the necklace gently towards him, fixed a little microscope in his eye, and proceeded to examine it closely. For a long time he was silent;
VOL. III.
G82
DIANA BARRINGTON
at last he pushed it over to Coopoodoo, and exclaimed :
cc A very old ornament: in miserable condition.”
“ You allude to the setting,” said my champion’; “it is about five hundred years old.”
“ The stones are cut in a most barbarous fashion. Such cutting is a deadly crime” continued Herr Schammel, now warming to his subject, and proceeding to make little of an ornament, that had literally taken away his breath!
“ I know nothing of lapidary work,” rejoined Colonel Hassard. “ But I do know that the necklace was once the property of a Royal Court; that it is of enormous value; even MY ignorant eye can discern that.”
“ The centre stone is of astounding brilliancy,” admitted the German, pointing, as he spoke, to the Evil Eye, which seemed to wink back at his finger with a fierce, lurid flash.
“ Coopoodoo,” he said, “ what is your opinion of that white diamond ? ”
Coopoodoo shook his head, and groaned, and said something I could not catch.COOPOODOO THE SOUCAR.
33
“ And now,” continued Herr Schammel, looking at my agent over his spectacles, “may I ask, what value you put upon these stones at a rough guess ? ”
“At a rough guess, about fifteen thousand pounds,” he replied, without a moment’s hesitation.
Herr Schammel stared as if hes incerely pitied him, and then laughed, and said:
“ My dear sir, if you mentioned fifteen thousand rupees, you will be nearer the mark.”
“ Will you pledge your professional reputation on that opinion ? ” inquired Colonel Hassard drily.
Herr Schammel looked rather uneasy, glanced hastily at his employer, and replied:
“ From such a cursory inspection, I could not say anything that would bind me, one way or the other; but this much I may state—that you greatly over-rate their marketable worth.” “And yet / have been told, by competent judges* that twenty thousand pounds was beneath their value,” I now broke in, indignantly; for this beating down, and decrying, in the face
g 2B4
DIANA BARRINGTON
of the sensation the necklace had at first occasioned, made me excessively angry.
“ Oh, my dear, beautiful, young lady !” exclaimed Schammel, placing his fat, white hands in an attitude of prayer, and looking at me with his head on one side, “that was some flatterer! Nothing pleases a lady more, than to have her jewels appraised at double their value. Your friend was not thinking of becoming a purchaser ; and there is a vast difference, between admiring an article, and buying it.”
“ Well, look here,” said Colonel Hassard, rising, “ we will go away, and leave you to examine the necklace at your leisure, and come back in half an hour.”
“Yes, yes,” said Coopoodoo eagerly, “that is a very good plan. Come back in half an hour, and we will do business. We will meanwhile consult, and examine, and let you know, what we can offer.”
We walked out, preceded by Herr Schammel, who attended me to the brougham in a most courtly manner. Undoubtedly he considered, that a lady possessing such diamonds wasCOOPOODOO THE SOUCAR.
85
entitled to the highest respect. We drove about slowly for half an hour,, and I removed my veil, and put the window down, regardless of meeting one or two familiar and astonished faces. When time was up, we returned to Coo-poodoo, and I remained in the carriage, whilst “Cousin Julian” went in, and bore the brunt of the bargaining and wrangling. He was absent a whole hour, and then he came out, and told me that it was all right—that he had had a tremendously tough struggle, to make anything like decent terms —• that he had fought single-handed one against four—that they had talked, and argued, and expounded, and backed one another’s opinion, but that he was inflexible: “ Four thousand pounds—or nothing.”
So now I was sent for, and requested to sign a receipt for a cheque for four thousand pounds, received from Coopoodoo Ragoo on account of the necklace pawned—ugly word !
The cheque was on the local bank; but it was too late that day to cash it. I received it lan-guidly-r-a wretched little slip of blue paper in exchange for my lovely necklace, which Coopoodoo86
DIANA BARRINGTON.
now Swept up with an eager, greedy hand—and I signed “ Diana Fitzroy,” in rather trembling characters. There was another paper to sign— a long, prim-looking document, with a large, brown stamp at the top—which set forth the following facts :
“ That if Mrs. Diana Fitzroy did not redeem her necklace within a period of two years, it was to become the sole property of Coopoodoo on the further payment of six thousand pounds; and meanwhile, that Mrs. Diana Fitzroy was to undertake to pay interest, at the rate of ten per cent, on the four thousand pounds already advanced; and to this she set her hand and seal.”
This I also signed, in still more shaky writing. Little, little did I guess that those two signatures were, figuratively, two big nails, that I had hammered into my own coffin!
"And now,” said Coopoodoo, looking over at Colonel Hassard, “is this young lady your daughter ? ”
“No,” reddening with annoyance.
“Your—wife?” with a sort of doubtful cough.CO OP 00 DO 0 THE SOU CAR,
87
“No—a—distant connection/’
“ Ah—well, we must ask you to back her signature with yours — as a guarantee for the interest.”
“ Oh, certainly/’ and he took up the pen at once, and dashed off “Julian Hassard.”
And now that the bargain was concluded, Coopoodoo and Herr Schammel permitted their professional attitude to relax, and broke forth into unbridled praise of the Begum’s necklace.
“ Such stones were rare—such stones only come into the market once in a lifetime. The central pendant was surely historical, and could I favour them with any information ? ”
I told them all that was in my power, and that the age of the necklace was unknown; but that it' had been worn by princesses of ancient houses, and princes too, and had been on more than one battle-field, and the spoil of conquerors; the occasion of more than one Court intrigue; that it had been reputed to have been an instrument of murder. Above all, that it was regarded with great superstition, and the centre stone was known as the “ Evil Eye.”S3
DIANA BARDINO TON
As I mentioned this, it seemed to emit an angry flash at me, from where Herr Schammel held it up rapturously against his waistcoat. Perhaps it was enraged with me for having pawned it! Perhaps it was threatening to punish me in some way ! Who knows ?
“ There is sufficient material for four necklaces,” observed the German triumphantly.
“The stones are massed, and modelled together most extravagantly.	If you do not
redeem it, we shall break it up, and distribute the stones. The Emperor of Russia, and the Sultan, have agents looking out for really fine gems, and I know of purchasers in America and Australia.”
Coopoodoo’s eyes glistened, and he groaned as if in great agony, and seemed altogether pleased with his bargain.	Colonel Hassard
pocketed the cheque; I resumed my empty bag, and we withdrew, followed out to the door this time by Coopoodoo, Herr Schammel, and all the clerks.
It was late in the afternoon when I reached home, worn out by the heat and excitement, andCOOPOODOO THE SOUCAR.
89
with my head aching, as if it was going to fall off. I spent the rest of the day lying in a dark room, with ice on my temples—whilst Pallia fanned me steadily. Pallia was silent, stolid, and most unsympathetic. Pier whole bearing said as plainly as words: “ Missus cannot eat or drink. Missus very sick. Serves her right! ”CHAPTER VII.
FOR THE HONOUR OF THE REGIMENT.
“ But optics sharp it needs, I ween,
To see what is not to be seen.”
J. Trumbull.
Early on the following morning, Coxon, Mrs. Vavasour’s maid, came down, and asked if she could see me. Of course she was admitted. She had ■ come to give me her mistress’s kind love, and had I been able to do the little commission for her ? And if so, would I be at the library at four o’clock ?
“ Please say yes to both questions,” I replied, with unusual brevity.
Coxon was well accustomed to such mysterious errands, no doubt; she cast a sharpFOR THE HONOUR OF THE REGIMENT 91
glance round the room, and then retired, with a curtsey and a smile.
“And so you have managed it all beautifully ? ” said Mrs. Vavasour, that same afternoon, as we stood side by side before *a bookcase labelled “Novels,” and pretended to search for one. “You are a darling,” she added, as I placed an envelope in her hand. She tore it open instantly, and critically inspected the contents. “ It seems to be all right,” she said, “and on the bank here. What a relief! Julian Hassard is a capital man of business—I mean for this sort of business. Here, you are looking for a book—what more suitable than this, ‘The Queen’s Necklace/ by Dumas? See, I am putting a little note in it for you. Now I must go—I have not a second to lose. My Burr, as I call her—Lawrence’s niece—is waiting for me in the carriage below,” and thrusting “ The Queen’s Necklace” into my reluctant hand, and bowing gracefully to one or two friends, she walked off, with her cheque in her pocket.
Well, at any rate I had done my duty, andDIANA BARRINGTON.
no one expected to be thanked for that; but when I thought of my poor pawned diamonds, I felt a sort of tightness in my throat; and when I thought of what Hugh would say, if he knew whp.t I had done, my heart beat rather faster than usual. I did think she would have seemed a little grateful. She did not even say “ thank you/5 but seemed to take it entirely as a mere matter of course. After all, was she not right ? She was my mother, and my service to her was but her due!
Yes, I had done all I could. She must know that I had helped her, to the very utmost of my power, and, having accomplished my task, I might now surely look for my reward in peace at home; no more nocturnal interviews; no more stealthy little notes.
I accepted it as a good omen, that when I drove up to our own door, in the little cart, I found Hugh had arrived, and was sitting in the verandah, nursing Billy. He seemed delighted to see me, and, now that a load was off my mind, the delight was mutual. We went into the drawing-room, where afternoon tea wasFOR THE HONOUR OF THE REGIMENT 93
waiting for me, and I took off my hat, and sat down before the tray, and began to talk with my usual glibness. Presently I noticed that Hugh was staring at me, as he stood with his cup and saucer in his hand.
“ You are looking very much below the mark. What is the matter ?” he asked, very gravely.
“ Nothing. I;ve had rather a headache the last day or two.”
“ Perhaps you have been too much indoors. Were you out yesterday?”
Out! I should rather think I had been out! What would he have said, if I had replied: “Yes, nearly all day, raising money from a soucar on my diamonds ! ” But I merely muttered a monosyllabic assent, and kept my eyes on the floor.
“ I suppose Peter has looked you up often, and Ada Mayne?”
“Yes, and Mr. Conroy called yesterday, when I was not at home, and carried off a double bridle, your new brown riding-boots, and three or four polo sticks.”
“ The deuce is in Conroy,” he exclaimed, and94
DIANA BARRINGTON.
we both laughed. “The boots will punish him severely ! ” he remarked. “ And now, what about Mrs. Vavasour, Ranee? Have you kept your promise ? ” suddenly transfixing- me with his dark blue eyes.
“Yes,” I answered, looking into the teapot.
"You have not entered her house whilst I have been away ? ”
“ No/5
“ Nor has she been in this ?”
“No.” This almost in a whisper.
“ That's a good girl I ” now stooping down, and sweeping my blazing cheek with his moustache. I had the grace to blush still. I was not a hardened sinner; and my only wonder is, that Hugh did not notice my guilty face. He did not often kiss me, and perhaps he thought I was blushing at that. Dear, honourable, loyal Hugh ! he would no more have suspected me of telling a lie, than he would tell one himself.
" That’s a good girl,” he repeated; “ and you will find that your virtue will have its reward.” (And I surely did> but not in the sense that he intended.) " I don’t mind having anotherFOR, THE HONOUR OF THE REGIMENT. 95
cup of tea/’ he said, and as he stood with it in his hand (he was one of those men who stand or walk about, but rarely sit), he said, “ I can't endure Mrs. Vavasour ! I have taken the most inveterate dislike to the woman, with her airs, and her dresses, and her fascinating ways. I do not deny her looks, nor that she is an admirable hostess, and seems to know how to say the right word to everybody; but her cold, stately manners do not impress me — especially as I feel that, all the time she is talking to me, her thoughts are far away, and she is, figuratively, looking over my head.”
“ She is very nearly as tall as you are," I remarked. Hugh was only five feet nine, and this was one for him !
“ Very likely. Ill weeds grow apace," he retorted coolly. “ She is an ill weed : her mind is poisonous. She would soon contaminate you, my little Jungle-flower. I would.almost as soon see you associating with a ‘case* of smallpox."
“ Why are you so dreadfully bitter against her ?" I asked combatively.96
DIANA BARRINGTON.
“ Because I know her history, ancient and modern,” was his prompt reply. “ It is not nice reading. No wonder she never turns over the back pages.”
And I also knew her history. Was it not all written out for my benefit, on five sheets of crested paper, and locked away in my dressing-case, in the next room ?
So I sat silent, and played with the fringe of the tea-cloth, and perhaps looked 'as I felt, wretchedly uncomfortable.
“Well,” said Hugh, after a long pause, “I shall go down to the mess, and hear all the news, and bring Peter back to dinner.”
Peter was our constant guest, and often a third at our table, joined our rides, and coiled himself up in the back seat of the pony-cart. To - night he returned * with Hugh, literally boiling over with spirits. He and Hugh kept up nearly all the conversation, with jokes, and stories, and smart retorts; as for me, I was dull, if not downright stupid. I had not yet recovered piy mental equilibrium, nor the pang of parting with the Begum’s necklace, nor theFOR THE HONOUR OF THE REGIMENT 97
shame, and prevarications, that transaction had entailed. Presently Peter said something that caused me to prick up my ears.
“ I suppose you have heard that we had a mess meeting to-day, and have settled to give a big ball?”
“No,” I replied. “How delightful!”
“You see, the people here have been awfully civil, and we have only had a couple of days’ ‘ sports/ and a few afternoon dances, so we have made up our minds to give a 'hop* that will take the shine out of every ball that has been given in Sindi, since nautches were first invented! Supper from Bombay— fountains of scent—mountains of ice, and rivers of the best champagne. We are going to ask the whole Residency.”
“ And all the people from Calcutta and Madras, and pay their railway fare to and fro, and their hotel bills for a week/* added Hugh, with the utmost gravity.
“Nonsense! But what does Colonel Tanner say to all this ? ** (he was our second in command).
VOT,. TIL
H98
DIANA BARRINGTON
“Oh, he knows, we ought to do something, and he has given in ; he is coming.”
“And he will have to dance in the first quadrille," I said, clapping my hands. “ What will he do? He thinks balls are wicked.”
“He will be like St. Francis de Sales, who said there was no harm in a ball, if you thought all the time of hell and damnation.”
“ Hugh ! ” I exclaimed, “ I am surprised at you! Where did you pick up such a horrid idea?"
“Never you mind; you must write down at once to Madame—what’s her name ? and order a really smart frock, and do me credit.”
“I say ditto to Mr. Burke," said Peter, “ and I’ll take leave to provide the bouquet, if you will promise me something.”
“Well—what is it?”
“ That you will wear your diamonds for the honour of the regiment—they reflect as much glory on us as the mess plate! "
“Yes," chimed in Hugh, “I am, as you are painfully aware, generally against their display, they look so startlingly out of place on the‘FOR THE HONOUR OF THE REGIMENT. 99
meek little neck, of the wife of a humble Captain of Black Horse. Nevertheless, on the occasion of a big regimental ball, we are bound to put our best foot foremost, so I quite endorse Peter’s request, that at the forthcoming ‘ Tamasha/ Mrs. Fitzroy will, by special desire, wear her diamond necklace.”>
(Would she!)
“ And it will be quite an additional attraction,” said Peter. “ Shall we put it in the invitation cards? What do you say?” grinning at me.
What could I say ? I said nothing intelligible. I smiled a faint assent, but my blood ran cold. Here was a contingency for which I was wholly unprepared.!
H 2CHAPTER VIII.
THE WHISPER.
“ Ask me no questions, and Pll tell you no fibs.”
Goldsmith.
The little note, that had been slipped into ‘‘The Queen’s Necklace,” was merely a line, saying :
“ Burn my letter. Burn it yourself Do not send it out to the cook-house, to be read by educated domestics, and blazoned in the Bazaar. —M. V.”
I accordingly unlocked my dressing-case, and held the sheets, one after the other, over a lighted candle, till they were in ashes, whilst Pallia gravely superintended the entire performance, and then, thus calmly delivered her soul: ,THE WHISPER.
IOI
“ Missy getting letter when Master is away. Master coming back; Missy plenty fraiding — burning letter. ,1 know all about such things; once before, I also living with one very bad lady! ”
ci Pallia,” I said, roused to great indignation, 46 if you ever dare to speak to me like this again, I shall send you away.”
u Missy sending—but I never going ! Another ayah coming, telling stories in Bazaar of Missy, i never saying one word. JI knowing you, Miss Ranee, this nineteen year, when you were—-oh —such a pretty Baba. You may beat me—yon may give me no pay; I still stop all the same.” And she folded her arms, and looked as if she was resolved to take root in my room for the rest of her life; and there was no use quarrelling with her, for between gibes, and protests, she always had the last word !
What mental agonies I suffered ere the ball took place, can never even be guessed at. How was I to account for the absence of my diamonds ? So much for being the owner of remarkable jewels. My state of mind during102	DIANA BARRINGTON.
the next three weeks, was a new experience to myself—and others. I was restless, distraite, and —rand—irritable. I no longer enjoyed my morning gallops, or lingered with fond fingers over the dusting of my drawing-room treasures, or arranged flowers, or bustled about the house and stables with plantains for the ponies, and grain for the fowl. I was cross to Hugh, and used to hunt the puppy but of the house, and threw our beloved “ Billy ” out of the drawing-room chairs in a manner that astonished him,, No, I had no compunction about his afternoon doze. As for Pallia, she and I had ceased to be on speaking terms, and I spent most of my time wandering aimlessly to and fro, and wondering — wondering—my little mind in a frenzy, my brain in a fever — as to what I was to do.
I snatched a word with Mrs. Vavasour at an afternoon dance (when Hugh was not looking). She was, as usual, to all appearance, radiantly happy, and handsome, and stately—and the admired of all beholders. Her impatient reply to my whispered entreaty was this :THE WHISPER.
103
“ Brazen it out! What a little goose you must be! He will believe anything you tell him, thanks to your artless eyes! Tell him that the clasp is broken.—Tell him anything you like! ”
“ Oh, I cannot say that,” I whispered appealingly. “Do, do help me.”
But already her head was turned away in an opposite direction ; already she was speaking to a good-looking gunner; and I saw that I must rely on myself alone, to get out of this horrible dilemma !
The clasp excuse answered for once. ,
When I came tripping into our drawing-room on the eventful evening, clad in a cloud of sea-green tulle, Hugh exclaimed:
“ I say, this is something like a turn-out! But,” he added, as I moved into the full lamplight, “ where are the diamonds ? ”
“They would not go with the dress,” I replied carelessly, but my heart was palpitating wildly.
“ No ? I should have thought that they would have gone with anything. And you are104
DIANA BARRINGTON.
always so keen about wearing them. Run away and put them on — you know you promised Peter/’
"Yes; but then I had not seen my dress,” I answered promptly. Alas ! how readily I was adapting myself to the art of telling lies ! “ You observe that this is a sea costume ! ”
" Do you mean a bathing-dress ? ”
" No, you stupid man.”
"Well, that is the only sea costume that I am acquainted with-—and of course I have only seen it at a respectful distance.”
" I mean a dress that typifies the ocean,” I explained. “ Look at the green tulle draped over green satin, with coral, and sea-weed, and shells. Is it not novel and lovely ? ”
"You are a swell of the ocean, I grant; but why not the diamonds ? ”
"Don’t you see, that they would not be in keeping; now this dear little string of seed pearls is the very thing, and matches my bracelets.”
" Sham ! ” he remarked, with great contempt.THE WHISPER.
105
“Yes, they are not real, of course.'’
“Well, even if they are a little out of keeping, I prefer real diamonds, to mock pearls, any day.”
“No doubt,” I answered, now hard pressed, and falling back on my other course. “But the clasp of the necklace is out of order.”
“ Oh! and why did you not say so at first? You are like a fellow who was had up before his colonel, for not attending as a member of a court-martial, and who gave his reasons for his absence as follows :
Firstly, because I was slightly indi.sposed. Secondly, because of the inclemency of the weather.
“f Thirdly, because it entirely escaped my memory.’ ”
I laughed quite naturally and heartily at this illustration of myself, and then hastily led the way to our hired brougham, declaring that, as we represented a portion of the host and hostess, we had no time to lose.
Every one, as Peter had prophesied, was at our ball, not only the residents of Sindi, butio6
DIANA BARRINGTON.
people from many other stations, and even from Bombay! The room was beautifully decorated,, and the ante-rooms and long verandahs were arranged in what Hugh called the “ sympathetic ” style. There was a room for chaperones* full of soft and slumber-provoking chairs ; there were tents for whist, for refreshments, and for flirtations ; there were long passages with Chinese lanterns, palms, ferns, and seats—here and there-affording accommodation for two. As we entered, Ada Mayne accosted me and said :
“ My dear, your dress is delightful; but— where are the diamonds ? ”
“They would not correspond with the costume,” I muttered impatiently.
“ Then, if I had only known that in time, I would have worn them,” she rejoined. “ ICs a sin not to display them on some one in the regiment.”
Mrs. Gimlette, in a new and hot-looking red plush, reproached me playfully; but she was too much occupied to waste time on my shortcomings.
I was engaged for the first dance to ColonelTHE WHISPER,.
107
Hassard, but, instead of taking our places in the “ Lancers,” we strolled out to the tea-room. I wanted to talk to him, and to thank him for his help, for I had scarcely seen him since our joint expedition. So we sat close together on the same > ottoman, our faces partly concealed by my large white fan, and I rapidly related how I had made over the cheque, how Hugh had questioned me, and the desperate straits I had been put to to account for wearing a miserable little string of mock pearls instead of my beautiful diamonds; to all of which recital, my companion listened with the deepest interest and sympathy.
“ I have a horrible presentiment, that I cannot shake off, that the diamond necklace will get me into trouble yet,” I concluded impressively.
“ And I have a horrible presentiment, that I cannot shake off, that if I monopolise you any longer, I shall get into trouble too,” and he laughed — that is to say, he displayed his teeth. I followed his glance, and saw Hugh standing at the buffet, ostensibly waiting upon a stoutio8	DIANA BARRINGTON.
old lady, but in reality watching us with eyes of stern incredulity.
“Come,” I said, rising, “I must hope for the best. — I am engaged for this dance to Mr. Hare."
“And you will give me number seventeen ?”
“Yes;” and I nodded, and turned away to Peter, who had come in search of me.
Peter was a capital partner, and, after a long turn round and round the room, we paused to rest, and watch other people, and he seized this opportunity to upbraid me bitterly for not wearing my necklace.
“You have broken your word, Mrs. Fitz—I did not think you would have done that!—and you have never condescended to wear my humble offering.”
“ I did not deserve it; and it would not go with my dress.”
“ Well, it is a stunning frock—heaps of people say so; and you and Fitz go a long way in keeping up the average good looks of the corps —and here he comes ! You are never going to be so ridiculous as to give him a dance ? ”THE WHISPER.
109
“ Why not ? ”
“ Because you must have quite enough of one another as partners for life. Look here, Fitz” (to Hugh), “it is very greedy of you to want to dance with your wife; and this is a divine waltz—just one to lift you off the floor ! You might let me have it, like a good fellow.”
“And what about your own partner—for I presume you are engaged ? ” said Hugh sternly.
“ Oh, she’ll think I could not find her,” was his ineffably cool reply.
-	shall be no party to such treatment,”
said Hugh, giving him a playful push. “Go, and do your duty.”
In another moment I was swimming round the room to the strains of a dolorous waltz. I glanced over Hugh’s shoulder, and took in the fringe of spectators watching the dancers. Mrs. Vavasour, who thoroughly understood the art of arrival and departure, stood in a doorway, as usual the centre of a little crowd of satellites, chiefly composed of “ The Clique.” I fancied that her eyes followed me languidly; indeed, I may state without undue conceit,no
DIANA BARRINGTON
that a good many people watched us. Hugh was a first-rate dancer, and I—if I was nothing else, was one of the best dressed young women in the room — and, was it imagination ? as I floated by, did I really hear the spectators whisper to one another:	“Where are her
diamonds to-night ? ”
We stopped at last, and I leant against the wall, and fanned myself vigorously. Then I glanced at Hugh, and met his eyes. Strange to say they did not smile, as was their invariable habit when they looked at me, and I knew at once, by their expression, that he was about to make some disagreeable remark.
But just at this moment Mrs. Lawless came fluttering up to us—in a very décolletée costume, and judging by the diamonds and bangles she displayed, she had been “ collecting ” most industriously since I last saw her.
“You delightful creatures!” she exclaimed, a little out of breath. u How charming it is to see married people dancing together! Some friends just now would not believe that you were not an engaged couple ! ”THE WHISPER.
hi
“And how have you been, Diana?55 suddenly clasping my arm, and looking up into my face with the tenderest interest.
“Very well indeed/5
Really? You are looking rather thin, and pale.—Not half so well as in those dear old days at Gurrumpore; but you,” turning to Hugh, “are not a bit altered.”
“ Did you expect to see me with gray hair ? ” he asked cynically.
At this she laughed—shrugged her shoulders, and exclaimed:
• “No, not just yet ”
“I am sorry we missed each other when we called,” I remarked politely.
“Yes, dear, and I would have run over to see you often, but you do live so , out of the way — in such an unfashionable part! The friends that I am staying with, live next door to the Vavasours, in a splendid house! By the way, darling55 (and by this I knew that she was going to say something nasty), “ I was so amused that day I called on you. You were out, certainly—had but just left the compound112
DIANA BARRINGTON
with a gentleman—you were in a delightfully mysterious-looking little green brougham, and closely veiled/”
Her wonderful eyes seemed to taunt me, and she glanced expressively at Hugh.
But Hugh was a man who had a wonderful command over himself, and he made no sign.
“Yes,” I rejoined, with the courage of desperation, “ I was only going down to the Bazaar with my cousin, Colonel Hassard, to see some curiosities.” Well! was not a Soucar’s establishment a curiosity to me?
“ Ah! ” she exclaimed, with a laugh, and a slight gesture of her hand in which I discerned insolent incredulity. “So that was it? — And now, Captain Fitzroy, I suppose you thought my card was full—I have kept a dance for you, for the sake of auld lang syne.”
“ I am sure I am most highly honoured, Mrs. Lawless ; but, unfortunately, I am engaged for every dance. You see, being one of the hosts, I must do my duty.”
“ Including dancing with your wife shakingTHE WHISPER.
“3
her fan at him with a playful air. “Yes, of course. Well, never mind, you shall take me in to supper. I shall be near the fountain. Don't forget,” and with a smile, and a wave of her fan, she passed on.
“Just the same as ever," I remarked, with forced composure.
“Yes; but look here, Diana, what on earth induces you to make yourself so conspicuous with that ass Hassard ? ”
“ What do you mean ? ” I asked, rather fiercely.
“I mean, that I had no idea that you had such a genius for flirting. You looked like a pair of conspirators this evening. You sat out two dances, with him whispering behind your fan, and altogether behaving yourself in a way that surprised and amazed me! And what is this story about a brougham and a veil, eh ? ”
“ Do you not know Mrs. Lawless ? ” I asked, with affected surprise—Mrs. Lawless’ evil reputation did me a noble turn now.
“ Well, I won’t have you so intimate with Hassard, although he says he is your cousin.”
VOL. III.
1DIANA BARRINGTON
ir#
“ He is more—he is my friend ! ” (gratefully recalling the visit to Coopoodoo).
“And I won't allow you to have any friend of my own sex but myself,” was Hugh's resolute reply.
“ Oh—what a liberal and generous mind! Must I no longer speak to Peter?'5
(Who among the passers by, would have supposed that Captain and Mrs. Fitzroy, as they leant against the wall, and conversed in low tones, were carrying on a pitched battle?)
“Peter is totally different, and when you * couple him and Hassard in one breath----------"
“Mrs. Fitzroy/' said a voice on my other side. I turned quickly; there was the man himself. “ Can I say a word to you ? ” he asked, rather eagerly.
“Of course you can—a thousand, if you will,” I rejoined, for Hugh's benefit. “ Is it anything very important?” holding up my fan, as if to make a screen.
“Well, it is rather,5' bending his head down towards me—how very bald he was getting!— and speaking in a low and hurried voice. “ ITHE WHISPER.
IIS
thought I would tell you,” he concluded aloud, and standing erect as he spoke, and then he moved' quickly away.
The face that I exhibited, when I moved my fan, must have been chalky white; I felt beads of perspiration standing on my forehead. Even Hugh was startled out of his wrath, by my ghastly appearance.
“ What is the matter with you, Ranee ? What has that fellow been saying to you, to make you look like this ?—Come at once out of this hot room.”
I shook my head, and stammered out:
“It is nothing. The heat is stifling, and I feel very giddy.”
Was it likely that I could repeat what had just been whispered into my horrified ear: “ There is an old lady in the inner room— looks like a Jewess, or rich Armenian—she is wearing your diamond necklace ” ?
I felt as if I were going to faint, and tottered out of the ball-room, and managed to reach the door of the outer room, and, sending Hugh to fetch a glass of cold water, I gazed
I 2n6	DIANA BARRINGTON
around where chaperones were benched in dozens. Yes! there, near the door, sat a stout old lady, in crimson velvet, cut square in front, and sure enough, round her throat I recognised my late necklace—a necklace, that no one who had once seen it, could possibly mistake. I fancied, too, that there was an unusually vivid flash—a kind of triumphant glare—in the “Evil JEye” as it encountered mine!CHAPTER IX.
POOR MRS. MOONATIIOON !
“ They fool me, to the top of my bent.’^
Hamlet.
When I had ascertained that my necklace was really present, I felt quite desperate. I glanced round the ante-room, in which I was standing, and noticed Mrs. Vavasour, reclining in an armchair, and whispering to a man who sat very close to her, with his head bent, and his hands clasped.
In an instant I was beside her—at her left side—and, with a hasty “ excuse me,” I leant over, and whispered in my turn:
“An old lady in the next room is wearing my diamonds! You must get her away.”Il8
DIANA BARRINGTON
“I!” aloud, with a look of languid amusement. “My dear Mrs. Fitzroy, what have I to say to her—-what can / do?”
“What I tell you,” I repeated, also aloud, maddened to frenzy by her equanimity, and nonchalance. “Mrs. Vavasour, you must! If not, I will leave you to bear the consequences.” And quivering with agitation, ay, and indignation, I walked away, and was just in! time to seat myself, as Hugh came towards me with a glass of water. (I believe that the man, who had been listening to the dialogue between Mrs. Vavasour and Mrs. Fitzroy, subsequently gave out, to his immediate friends, that the latter had the most awful temper, and that he did not envy Fitz !)
“ I had the greatest work to get it,” said Hugh, handing me the tumbler. “ If it had only been champagne — but water is scarce. I am sorry I have been so long.”
Poor Hugh ! He had already recovered his good humour. Little did he suspect what his absence had been to me. My eyes filled with remorseful tears, when I thought how good andPOOR MRS. MOONATHOON	09
loyal he had always been to me, and how treacherously I was behaving to him ; and all for the sake of one who did not value my efforts on her behalf—no more than if they had never cost me a thought, a pang, or a tear! I saw her staring hard at me once or twice; evidently she looked to me to extricate myself out of the scrape—as best I could—and as usual; but for once I was firm, and I returned her significant and imperious glances, with counter glances of stony indifference. I was resolved not to move, nor to lift one finger to save myself; and yet I knew that my fate was literally trembling in the balance; and were Hugh, or Peter, or any of my friends to pass through the door at \Hiich I sat sentry, the whole story of the sale of my diamonds would be known ; and after that, the deluge !
Just at this crisis, Hugh was called away. He left me reluctantly, and with many tender apologies. He would have been surprised had he known how much more freely I breathed, and how much better I felt, as I saw him vanish towards the ball-room.120
DIANA BARRINGTON.
Presently Mrs. Vavasour rose* and came towards me, with graceful deliberation.
“ What do you mean ? ” she whispered impatiently, as she stood beside me in the doorway. “ Where is the old woman ? Show her to me,” beckoning me closer, with a nod of her head.
“ You will see her soon enough,” I answered* rising. “ She is over there on the sofa, and looks as if she was asleep.”
“ IPs Mrs. Moonathoon—an enormously rich Armenian. Luckily, I know her—come along”— and she advanced into the room.
“ Dear Mrs. Moonathoon,” sidling up to her • “ this is an unexpected meeting. Where did you come from ? ”
“ Oh—Mrs. Vavasour \” blinking incredulously, and delighted at such gracious notice from that cold and exclusive lady. “I came from Bombay for a little change. I am stopping with a niece, and I got a card for this ball. They are doing it very well, aren't they ? I wonder when supper will be served ? ”
“Very shortly, I believe. What magnificentPOOR MRS. MOONATHOON.
121
diamonds you are wearing! My dear Mrs. Moonathoon, they are superb ! ”
“ Yes—ain’t they?” smiling a fat, complacent smile. “You don’t see their match every day.”
“No. But how dangerous to wear what is not your own ! ” said Mrs. Vavasour impressively.
“What do you mean?” exclaimed the old lady, becoming a deep puce.
“ I merely mean that that necklace belongs to a relation of mine. She left it with Coopoodoo to take care of, as it is of enormous value. She will be astonished when she hears of this. In fact, she is present to-night, and if you will take my advice, you will not let her see it, for she has rather a temper, and is quite capable of flying at you, and making a dreadful scene. You surely have not purchased the necklace from Coopoodoo ? ”
“ Oh, dear me! dear me! ” moaned the now terrified Mrs. Moonathoon. “What are you telling me ? I only hired it for the night, for three hundred rupees, from Hookum, in Bombay—. you know, the great jeweller’s shop in Rampart122
DIANA BARRINGTON,
Row. He said he got it from his partner, Coopoodoo, and that it was in pawn for fifty thousand rupees.”
“ Never mind what he told you, my dear madam. Speaking as your friend, I strongly recommend you to take off the necklace, and put it into your pocket, before it is seen.	It
as well known here, I can assure you—is it not, Diana ? ” appealing to me.
“It is,” I answered, with emphatic corroboration.
“ If you will be so very good as to unfasten it, I will do as you advise,” said the now trembling Mrs. Moonathoon—“or perhaps the young lady,” glancing at me piteously, “ would be so kind?”
And I was so kind as to unfasten the clasp, with the greatest alacrity, and place the diamonds in her hand.
“ Put it away—hide it ! ” I could not resist saying, in my eagerness and anxiety. “ For goodness* sake, don’t let any one see it! ”
■ “ Is she coming ? ” stammered the old lady, in unmistakable alarm. “Do you see her?”POOR MRS. MOONATHOON.
123
“ No,” replied Mrs. Vavasour, turning round, and slowly surveying the door. “But you must be cautious. I do not know what she would say to Coopoodoo, if she knew that he hired out her diamonds at so much a night. I am certain she would prosecute him, and you would be called in as a witness, and it would be in all the papers. I am sure you would not like that—nor for every one in India to know that you wore borrowed jewels—so do be careful, my dear Mrs. Moonathoon.”
And with this remark, she walked away, leaving the unfortunate old lady to await supper with what appetite she might. Poor Mrs. Moonathoon, I was sorry for her, and only that I was afraid that she might be tempted to make some awkward confidences, I would have despatched Hugh himself to look after her, and escort her to table when the tune of “ Roast Beef” resounded through the mess-house.
“You see how cleverly I can manage things,” said Mrs. Vavasour, taking my arm, and leading me into a secluded nook between the palms. UI never lose my head, or my nerves, as you124
DIANA BARRINGTON
do. Why, your very face, as you sat beside that door, was enough to rouse any one’s suspicions—guilt was stamped on it—you looked as if you had been stealing the spoons! When a crisis occurs, you have not a scrap of pluck, or presence of mind. So different to me. Now, MY courage always rises with the occasion.”
“ Very likely,” I answered, rather tartly (but my nerves had been shaken to a most painful tension). “You have had plenty of practice, and I have not.”
She looked at me fixedly, and bit her lip, and said :
“ That is no way to speak to me. Here is a pretty return, for helping you out of an awkward scrape ! ”
“ A scrape that I got into for your sole benefit,” I replied, breaking at last into open rebellion. “And now that I have sacrificed my diamonds, I think you might release me from my promise, and let me tell Hugh—the diamonds may go, I do not grudge them, nor the tears and trouble they have cost me; but, mother, I appeal to you, by any affection youPOOR MRS MOONATHOON.
125
ever bore me, when I was a little flaxen-haired baby, let me tell Hugh. I cannot bear to deceive him, and it will break my heart, if I lose his confidence and respect.”
“No,” she said shortly, “you cannot tell Hugh yet. If you told him now, it would ruin me.”
“ But I am certain----” I began.
“And I am certain,” she interrupted, “that his knowledge of our secret, would be fatal to my happiness.”
“And what of my happiness, mother?” I asked, with trembling lips.
“Don’t!” she exclaimed, turning away her face; “ when you look at me like that, with those imploring eyes, you are the image of your Aunt Annie.”
“Who died?”
“Yes, the little goose—she took a like affair to heart, and it killed her.”
“ I shall die, too, if this goes on,” I said tearfully. “ This double-dealing will kill me.” “Not at all! You are tough—like me. Our delicate looks are the most complete delusionI2Ó
DIANA BARRINGTON
—this is quite between ourselves. As for your happiness about which you are so solicitous, you have youth, and health, and beauty. They are happiness.-”
“I don't believe in happiness,” I exclaimed bitterly; “it is a ghost Who has ever seen it ?”
“ What a quaint idea ! I am sure you picked it up from your father; it is so like what he would say! Well, my little m'oraliser, I cannot stay with you any longer. I believe in a certain kind of happiness ; I believe in supper; I believe I am hungry; and I believe that I see Sir Foster White searching for me everywhere. Goodbye, my pretty dreamer.”
I stood, and watched her tall, graceful figure, and satin train pass gradually from the room, and then I sat down alone. My appetite, like Mrs. Moonathoon's, had been most effectually dispelled.CHAPTER X.
“SO MUCH FOR A KISS.”
“ The last link is broken That bound me to thee.”
Miss F. Steers.
“What, all alone?” exclaimed Hugh, “and buried in a brown study. Oh, I say! this will never do! Rouse up at once, and come and have some supper. We have made up a jolly little party—the Maynes, Peter, and Goodchild, and ourselves. I have been hunting for you everywhere, for Peter told me you were dancing.” “ And what are you going to do with Mrs. Lawless ? ” I asked, with an effort at sprightliness.
“ Oh, I could not find her. She was out promenading. I hope she won't catch cold. Come;128
DIANA BARRINGTON.
you know you are a dreadfully greedy girl for sweets, and the strawberry ices and Peliti’s bonbons will all be gone, if you don’t look sharp.”
So I suffered myself to be led away, and, under the influence of Hugh's really anxious attentions, and the mirth of a very merry party, I soon recovered my wonted spirits, pulled crackers, and bandied jests, the more especially as that, to me, detestable word “ diamonds,” was not uttered in my hearing for the remainder of the evening.
I danced number seventeen—a valse—with Colonel Hassard, and afterwards — when the music had ceased—he led me out to one of the tents outside—a most popular resort. It was one immense marquee, pitched all round the trunk of a huge tree, and divided into a dozen little bowers, merely separated by a piece of canvas. Each retreat was lighted by fairy lamps, and furnished with a couple of luxurious seats, or a sofa.
The one we entered contained two inviting arm-chairs, drawn up in a friendly way, side by side ; and it was delicately illumined by“SO MUCH FOR A KISS:
129
a rose-shaded lamp—my own lamp, as I noticed —for to a large regimental affair like this ball, we all contributed furniture, lights, flowers, etc.
I cast myself into one of the inviting armchairs, with a mixture of weariness, and satisfaction. Here we were quite secluded from the vulgar gaze, and I was anxious to tell my partner all about my late scene with Mrs. Moonathoon, to consult him as to how the repetition of such a “ scare ” could be avoided, also to ask him how I was to pay the interest money? No one, who has not been similarly situated, can realise the solace and relief, it was to me to put my fears into words, and to pour my troubles into one sympathetic human ear.—Of course, I had recently learnt that Hugh did not approve of this particular organ ! But I was fully assured, in my own mind, that if Hugh knew all, he would like and appreciate Cousin Julian,* quite as much as I did !
I lost no time in unfolding my tale, and was soon most eager and confidential, and declaiming with my hands, and with my fan, according to'my wont. I earnestly besought my companion
vol. in.
K13°
■DIANA BARRINGTON
to tell me, how I was to prevent the necklace from being let out on hire? and thereby causing my public disgrace.
“ Oh ! I shall have a word with Coopoodoo,” he replied, “and it will be all right. The old rascal thought it would be a safe little game in Bombay.”
“ And what about the interest ?55 I continued anxiously.
“Oh, Mrs. Vavasour will surely see to that/”
“No — she will not; she said so most distinctly.”
“ Then I’m afraid you are legally responsible! What a country this is for what they call c taking interest/ ” he exclaimed ; “ it’s the universal bane—from the coolie, who pays one anna a rupee per month—seventy-two per cent. —up to the Prince of a Province, all will promise any interest to ensure present ease.”
“It has not ensured me much present ease,” I retorted rather fretfully.
“No; the present ease went to some one else,” and he laughed, as if the fact tickled him not a little.SO MUCH FOR A HIS SC	131
“ Supposing I declined to pay interest, what would happen ? ”
“You would be run in,” he replied, with a lazy smile.
“ And that would be rather disagreeable. How much have I to pay?”
“ About three hundred rupees a month,” he rejoined, with the utmost tranquillity.
“ Three hundred rupees a month! ” I nearly screamed. “And where am I to get it? I might be able to pay it after I am of age— but now it is out of the question.”
“You might make some arrangement after’ next quarter, but not before,” he answered musingly.
“ What am I to do ? ” I asked distractedly. “I seem to go in deeper and deeper.”
“ I can only think of one remedy,” he said, in a low voice. “/ will pay the interest—/ will be your banker.”
“No, no, no; that would be worse than all! But'surely Coopoodoo would wait, if you asked him. The interest might accumulate till I was of age, and then Colonel Raitt and the
k 2132
DIANA BARRINGTON.
Padre would pay. What do you say?” I asked eagerly,
“ I say that / will square it,” edging his chair nearer to mine, “and I say, too, that you must not bother your pretty head about it,” —and what was this he was murmuring ?—“ My poor, little, worried darling ! " and he suddenly stooped forward, and I felt a long, impassioned kiss pressed upon my bare arm ! It was an audible kiss ; and there was a laugh—some rude man’s delighted laugh—from the next partition.
As for myself, I felt as stunned, and horror-stricken, as if Colonel Hassard had struck me ! Mrs. Gimlette's repeated warning came back to me now, as many warnings do — too late, too late! I jumped up with burning cheeks, and quivering lips, and my companion also rose— but more deliberately.
“How — how — dare you!” I stammered, in a fury.
“ For God's sake, don't make a scene," he whispered excitedly, and pointed to the thin bit of canvas that divided us from our neighbours. “You are not really angry with me,“SO MUCH FOR A KISS:
133
are you ? It was all your own fault, for having such a maddeningly tempting arm, Diana; you know that I adore you! '' And he met my indignant gaze with a bold, unflinching stare.
“ I don’t understand you,” I faltered tremulously.
“If you don't understand, that it is not altogether because you are a far away connection, that I have been your shadow, and your slave, you must be lamentably deficient in- perception, my darling! ''
“Stop!” I interrupted. “I do begin to comprehend you, at last! And I thought you were my friend—like Mr. Mayne, or Mr. Hare ! ” I spoke aloud, for our neighbours — a hilarious couple—had departed.
“ Friend,” he echoed contemptuously. “ Bah 1 Give me one kiss of your own accord—just one— and I'll forfeit ten years of my life ! I’ll settle it up all right with Coopoodoo ; he shall never trouble you again, or cost you a thought—much less a tear. Only give me one kiss—and make me happy! ” He concluded in a tone at once imploring and caressing.134
DIANA BARRINGTON
“You,, then, think me so—so—disgraceful, that I would sell my kisses for money — for a year’s interest! You believe I would do that l” I exclaimed, in a voice that shook with passion.
“Then give me one for nothing”, he pleaded, unabashed. “ Diana, you know that you do like me.—-Let your heart assert itself for once, You cannot live without love—without a sympathetic, kindred soul.—What is Fitzroy-------?”
now endeavouring to take my hai)d.
“ Fitzroy 1 ” I interrupted fiercely, and recoiling towards the entrance. “Fitzroy is a man who would kill you, if he heard you insulting his wife. I did like you—you seemed kind, and sincere, and true—in short, a gentleman ; now I see you, as you are—I loathe you, and I will never speak to you again. Mrs. Gimlette was right when she said you were a wolf in sheep’s clothing----”
“Oh, Mrs. Gimlette said that, did she? Well I am not worse than her husband, who is an old ass in a lion’s skin. And if I am a wolf,, you cannot blame me for living up to my repu~“ SO MUCH FOR A KISS:
135
tation, can you ? ” he asked with a sneer. “ Come, don't be a little fool, even if it IS to be open war. Let us leave this together, and allow me, at any rate, to escort you back to the ball-room. No use in publishing our difference of opinion'"—(difference of opinion !)—“ to all Sindi. If you rush out, in a frantic fury, and I follow you alone, what will people think ? As to. insulting you —it is the last thing of which I am capable. I made you an offer that many women would have jumped at, and you blaze up in my face, like a catharine-wheel. I had no idea/' he added, with withering sarcasm, cc that Mrs. Vavasour*s daughter— a girl who was brought up in the jungle, and has shot tigers, and ridden steeplechases—would be as prudish as an old maid; but since you are so high, and mighty, pray manage your own affairs. Your kisses will not often fetch four thousand rupees."
As he concluded, I turned my back on him with an irrepressible shudder, and walked out of the tent without any reply. I felt as if the ground was shaking under my feet, and absolutely sick with horror and humiliation. As I passedDIANA BARRINGTON.
136
into the open, I heard a pleading treble voice say pathetically :
“ Oh—don’t let us go for a second, please. I must see who they are.”
She was undoubtedly alluding to us! Yes; there at a little distance, standing expectant in the full glare of the Chinese lanterns, was Mrs. Lawless—and Hugh. Mrs. Lawless stared at me with unfeigned amazement, shot one malicious glance at my companion—and laughed—what a laugh! As for Hugh, I did not venture to look at him, and I walked straight on with my head erect, as if I did not feel humbled to the very dust. Whén I entered the mess-house, I was instantly seized upon by an exploring partner, and drawn into the mazy waltz. I danced away incessantly for the remainder of the evening— anything was better than “ sitting out ” and thinking. I was one of the very last ladies to leave the ball-room. At four in the morning, I found myself alone in the cloak-room with Loo Lawless. She was standing at the glass, enfolding her petit figure in a superb plush mantle ■—possibly a gift. I took no notice of her, but“SO MC/CH FOR A KISSj
137
searched for my wrap in dead silence. However^ she soon came sidling over to me, and said in a voice of detestable significance :
“Ahem! c Still waters run deep/ Oh, goddess of the silver crescent! Oh, cold Diana ! I am surprised.”
“At what?” I asked, with a ghastly attempt at unconcern.
“ We were in the tent—your husband and I : and what is a canvas wall ? We heard a sound like this/* and she kissed the back of her hand with audible enjoyment.
'‘You did?” I stammered. “I do not deny it. He kissed my arm. I shall never—never—
speak to him as long as I live. Did Hugh--------”
Here I stopped abruptly, for Pride laid her finger on my lips.
“ Of course he did/’ she returned, with a malignant giggle. “ He laughed—he thought it was one of those rowdy Miss Russells, I fancy ; but when you marched out, looking like the Queen of all the Amazons, I was so utterly flabbergasted, that I nearly tumbled down ! ”DIANA BARRINGTON.
138
“ Why should you be so shocked ?99 I asked sarcastically.
<f Ah ! My dear, I am beginning to see the errors of my little ways.—I am going to turn over a new leaf, and abjure balls, and take a class in Sunday School, and join the Blue Ribbon Army.”
“ I don’t believe a word of it ! ” I said, as I turned to quit the room, “you are joking !
“ Of course I am—and so were you, about the ARM,” she called after me.—A truly Parthian shaft.
Hugh and I drove home in silence. On some occasions, it is convenient to be assumed to be asleep.
The next afternoon, after a miserable night, I went into Hugh’s writing-room, and made a clean breast of it. And, young ladies, let me assure you that it is not an easy thing to tell your husband, that another man—against whom he has warned you—has been making love to you. I told my tale as briefly as I could, with a good deal of stammering, many blushes, and a few tears ; but I got it out at last.“ SO MUCH FOR A KISS:
139
He looked at me quietly, but keenly, for some seconds, and then he said :
“You knew that / knew, Diana. Have you made a virtue of necessity ? ”
“ I have not,” I answered forcibly. “ Do you
think that I would not have told you-----------” I
was endeavouring to be calm and self-possessed, and was failing wretchedly. Finally I faltered out:	“You are not angry with me, are you,
Hugh ? Of course I shall never speak to him again.”
>	“ I should hope not, indeed ”—very sternly.
“You won’t take any notice, will you—you won’t TELL any one?” I urged beseechingly.
“ Good Lord, Diana! do you think I am mad ? ”
“ And you won’t horsewhip him ? ”
“No—I shall resist—I must resist—that overwhelming temptation for your sake.—I always had a feeling that that fellow was not on the square, for he spoke of a lady the other day in a way that showed him in his true colours, and made me feel inclined to wring his neck. However, we will say no more about him. There140
DIANA BARRINGTON
now, don’t cry ; you were a good girl, to come and tell me everything.”
But, alas ! like Sapphira, I had kept something back. I had made no mention of the bribe that I had been offered. It was entirely out of my power to tell Hugh iC everything 1 ”CHAPTER XI.
ALL IS LOST, INCLUDING HONOUR.
“ Most ignorant of what he is most assur’d.”
Measure for Measure.
After our grand, much lauded, regimental ball, and the resulting “grand total” of our mess bills—all went smoothly for a month. There was not a ripple on the surface, to denote the gathering storm which was coming up so surely, and so fast. Miserably deluded girl! I believed that the worst was tided over, and that I was going to have a spell of fair weather at last. I had scraped together, and paid off the interest money. Hugh had given me his race winnings to “buy myself something nice/5142
DIANA BARRINGTON.
instead of which, the money was most opportune in meeting my ever haunting debt, and went straight into Coopoodoo’s capacious pocket. Mrs. Vavasour had never once spoken to me since the ball. Colonel Hassard had been pro-.moted to another sphere (not Heaven), and in every direction, the clouds were lifting. Some tiresome “ board/'’ or court-martial, summoned Hugh to Bombay for three days, at this rather critical period ; but the horrible guilty time was past, when his absence was a relief, and I grumbled a good deal against boards and courts-martial, as I drove him to the station.
“ I shall be back on Friday,” he said cheerfully, “ and I shall bring you something nice— I know you like a ‘surprise/ so you. can amuse yourself, during the next few days, in guessing what it is to be.—I promise you that it will be something beyond your wildest dreams! ”
During the succeeding three days, needless to state, I cast many thoughts in the direction of my present. I even called Ada Mayne, and Mrs. Gimlette into consultation. Mrs. Gimlette believed it would be an AmericanALL IS LOSTi INCLUDING HONOUR. 143
cooking-stove, for which I had expressed a hankering.
Ada was inclined to think, it would be some article of jewellery, and I myself had visions of a 'new pony! Friday came, and one o’clock, but no Hugh, and I had such a nice little tiffin waiting him, a pint of hock in ice. I had decked the drawing-room with fresh flowers, attired myself in his favourite dress, and tied a smart pink ribbon round Billy’s neck. Two struck—three—four.	I was ravenously hungry,
and could wait no longer, and Mrs. Gimlette, who had looked in for a moment, consolingly remarked:
“ Oh, he is probably bringing the cooking-stove, and waited to get it packed. Fie will come by the night train ; but if not, remember that I can get you a second-hand one at half the price.”
Immediately after she left, a hired gharry drew up, and, to my amazement, Hugh jumped out, flung the man his fare, and came quickly up the steps. I ran to meet him in great delight, saying:144
DIANA BARRINGTON
“ Why, I sent the cart to the train for you hours ago ! Where HAVE you been ? ”
I stared at him ; he looked very strange and white, and not like himself; and he did not make any attempt to greet me, but went straight over and closed the glass door leading into the dining-room—closed it and drew the bolt! This was exceedingly odd behaviour! I stood in the middle of the room and stared, and Billy sat on the top of the piano and stared. Whenever that awful hour comes back to me, a small black cat, with a large pink bow round its neck, invariably forms part of the picture.
“ What is the matter ? What does this mean ? ” I asked anxiously, my anxiety intensified by an undefined fear. Was any one dead ? I wondered — Peggy, or Father Paul ? I was about to hear bad news.—No need to tell me that.
Hugh turned and looked at me, and the sternness of his face, seemed to paralyse my tongue.
“It means,” he said, taking me by the wrist, in a grasp like steel, and -speaking in aALL IS LOST; INCLUDING HONOUR. 145
low, but perfectly distinct tone—“it means that I have found you out! ”
I was conscious of becoming cold all over, and, no doubt, as he made the announcement, every particle of colour sank from my abominably tell-tale countenance.
“Yes,” he continued with a grim smile, that was positively ghastly, “ I intended a nice little surprise for you, and found to my cost that the boot was on the other foot—that you had arranged a similar affair for me !—a surprise with a vengeance.”
“Tell me what you mean?” I inquired, plucking up a little spirit—resolved to try and show, if possible, a few of Mrs. Vavasour's qualities, when she found herself in hot water —courage, coolness, and presence of mind.
“ I mean, that I have discovered why you were unable to wear your necklace at the ball —you could not wear what was not in your possession—you have sold it."
ciYes—I have raised money on it,” I faltered, suddenly sitting down on the nearest chair, and trembling violently.
VOL. III.
LDIANA BARRINGTON
146
“You have deceived me from first to last, you wicked girl! ” he said hoarsely; “ and by a mere accident, I have discovered your practices. My eyes have been opened once for all, and I am amazed to find that you, whom I believed to be as innocent and inexperienced as a child, have the boldness, and resource of the most accomplished intriguer! Let me tell you how much I know, that you may fully understand how little you and I can have to say to one another in future. You are as practically dead to me now, as my wife, as if you were in your coffin. No, you need not speak— exculpation is out of the question, and deeds are louder than words. You have told many lies, you have hoodwinked me completely; you shall never have the chance of doing so-again.”
"What lies have I told?” making a pitiful effort to speak boldly.
“ They are too numerous to be counted; but I may mention the fables about your necklace, and the solemn promise you made with regard to Mrs. Vavasour—and broke. You hadALL IS LOST; INCLUDING HONOUR. 147
the assurance to deny that you met her, whilst I was away/'’
“No, I only said I did not go to her house, or write to her/'’ I faltered in self-defence.
“ There,” putting up his hand, “ no more. Shall I tell you what I did in Bombay yesterday ? Like the precious idiot I was, I wanted to make you a present, with an pld debt that had been paid me most unexpectedly, and with
this virtuous intention in view I went to
♦
Hookunds, the great jeweller’s. There were a good many people in the , shop, and several ladies were leaning over one particular case in ecstasies of admiration. I glanced at the case in passing, and to my great surprise, I saw that the very pretty thing they were admiring, was no more or less than your necklace ! At first I thought that I must be mistaken, I could not credit my own eyes, believing, as I most firmly did, that your necklace was lying in your dressing-case, with a broken clasp. However, as I was on the spot, I thought I would make inquiries, and I asked leave to examine the magnificent diamonds more closely, and I soon
l 2148
DIANA BARRINGTON.
had the necklace spread before me — it was yours! Supposing it to have been stolen, I had an interview with Hookum, and^ he calmly informed me that the jewel was the property of Coopoodoo Ragoo, his partner, who had sent it to him, to clean and repair ; more than this he would not tell me, beyond the fact that it was not for sale, was a most wonderful article, and attracted crowds to his establishment. After this unsatisfactory explanation, I got into the train and came here to-day, and went direct to old Coopoodoo, and asked for a private audience. At first he was not inclined to communicate any information, beyond the meagre statement, that the diamonds were partly his property—he had advanced a large sum on them to a lady, whose name he refused to divulge.55
Here Hugh paused, and looked at me fixedly, and I looked back at him. The pallor of his face was startling—a ghostly, ashen shade—his eyes were dark with anger (they now seemed black, not blue), and I shivered involuntarily under their piercing, unsparing gaze. I was guilty, and yet not guilty, and I cowered beforeALL IS LOST, INCLUDING HONOUR. 149
him like a convicted criminal, and passed my handkerchief across my trembling', speechless lips.
“Coopoodoo was staunch to you,” he continued, “until I produced my card, and asked if the lady's name was not the same as my own ? I told him that I was ready to swear to my wife's necklace, and begged to know how it had come into his hands, and assured him that if he declined to answer a very civil, simple question, he would find his mistake. Think,” he said, turning on me fiercely, “ of my having to beg of a soucar to admit me into his confidence, in a matter concerning my own wife !"
As he spoke, he sometimes paced the room, sometimes paused, and stood before me ; but I sat as motionless throughout, as if I had been turned into stone.
(C Coopoodoo admitted, at last, that my surmise was correct, and that, about six weeks previously, a young lady and a gentleman had come ,to him, and offered the necklace for sale; the lady was very young, and she had hair like sunshine; the man was Colonel Hassard. He arranged the whole transaction, and was aDIANA BARRINGTON
irò
very keen customer, and a clever gentleman at a bargain. The diamonds were splendid— a truly Royal ornament ; there were few such nowadays. To prove his words, he produced a written receipt for four thousand pounds, signed ‘ Diana Fitzroy/ in a tremulous scrawl— a guilty scrawl; also a kind of joint deed, signed by you, and Hassard, undertaking to pay the interest for two years, if the necklace was not previously, redeemed. Yòu may, or may not, imagine the awful blow this was to me. For some time I sat stupefied, and finally, I staggered out of the place like a drunken man. The next thing that I wished to find out, was this : What you had done with the money ? I had the number of the cheque, and I went at once to the bank ; it had been drawn in favour of Mrs* Vavasour, who had cashed it at once. I saw the cheque. I had it in my hand.”
He paused, and struggled with some choking of his breath, and did not speak for several seconds. I was totally dumb ; my tongue was powerless. I was living through the most awful moment of my life.ALL IS LOST,i INCLUDING HONOUR, 151
“Now/5 he resumed, pacing the floor, “what I have found out is—needless to ask you—why you secretly pawned your diamonds, and made over such a sum as four thousand pounds to Mrs. Vavasour ? No one gives without a return, nowadays. You paid that money for value received. What value ? I ask myself. Mrs. Vavasour is in possession of some secret of yours. That sum is hush-money—the price of her silence. A large price ; but she is a needy woman, I know, and the secret must be worth much to youP
“ Stop ! ” I cried fiercely.
ce Mrs. Vavasour is a bad woman/5 he went on, in1 a rapid, suppressed tone. “ Birds of a feather
flock together. Julian Hassard is your------ No, I
cannot say it! Mrs. Vavasour has you both in her power—you were both in her precious clique. She has hinted at disclosing certain facts to me, and consequently, you and Hassard hurry down to Coopoodoo’s — Hassard naturally transacts your business—and pawn the diamonds, for a good round sum, with which you are enabled to stop the woman5s mouth/5152
DIANA BADDING TON.
Again I endeavoured to interrupt him, and in vain.
“You see,” he said impressively, “I have unravelled the whole story, and a very edifying story it is! One thing, it shall not come into the papers. I would far sooner shoot myself, than see my name dragged through the gutter. Whatever may have happened to it in private, there will be no legal proceedings; but I shall keep you under a strict guard, for the rest of your days—figuratively chained up, like some
dangerous animal. As to Hassard------”
“ Hugh, Hugh,” I cried, finding voice at last, and rising with my hands pressed to my head. “You are wrong—wrong. I am innocent of all, but a secret that is not mine.”
“Innocent, of course you are,” he sneered. ec How innocent to steal down veiled to Coopoodoo, to pawn your necklace! ”
“ I did go to him,” and I slopped, and gasped for breath.
“ Thank you, I am already in possession of that fact.”
“ But that is all,” I protested, in an agonisedALL IS LOST,, INCLUDING HONOUR.	153
voice. “ I implore you to believe me. I have lost my diamonds, I have lost my peace of mind for months. Oh, don’t—-don’t let me lose you” and I clutched his arm convulsively.
“Do not touch me,” pushing my hand away roughly. “ Keep your tears, and caresses, to yourself—it makes me sick with shame to see you. Sit down, whilst I try and collect my thoughts, and arrange what I am to do with you.” He paced the room once or twice in silence, then he, snatched up that day’s paper, which lay on a sofa, and looked at it for a few moments.
“The Rome goes the day after to-morrow. We shall go in her. We start for Bombay by the eight o’clock train this evening.” As I still sat immovable, he added: “You have not much time to spare.—Just three hours, to get ready to start for England.”
“ Before I go—before I get ready—I must speak. You have condemned me unheard. You are merciless.”
“ No, I am not. I have judged you by your own acts, and by the strongest circumstantial*54
DIANA BARRINGTON.
evidence. Do you think that it was a pleasure to me, to find you out ? ”
“ If I am tried and condemned, I can at least claim one favour, like a criminal on the scaffold. I must write to Mrs. Vavasour, and receive a reply from her before eight o’clock to-night.”
“You shall,5’ he said cuttingly, “provided that I read your letter, and her reply. I’ll send a syce riding, so that there will be no delay.”
He opened the door as he ceased speaking, and went into the dining-room, and ordered a syce and horse to be ready to start ; he also ordered the pony-cart for half-past seven. I then sat down at my little writing-table — oh, surely not for the very last time!—and scrawled off a frantic note to Mrs. Vavasour.CHAPTER XII.
NO REPRIEVE.
“ One woe doth tread upon another’s heel,
So fast they follow.”
Hamlet.
I COULD scarcely hold the pen, my hand trembled so excessively; and this is what I said, without any preface whatever:
“ All is known about the diamonds. My husband saw them at Hookum’s, in Bombay, and is very angry; he thinks terrible things of me, which must be cleared up within the next two hours. I beseech you, most earnestly, to release me from my promise; my very life itself, depends upon a favourable answer to this letter.
“ For God’s sake say yes.
“ Yours,
“D. Fitzroy.”156
DIANA BARRINGTON.
Outside the envelope I wrote : “ Most urgent/* and then handed it to Hugh, who glanced over it, and said :
“ I doubt if she can make it out.—I can’t read half. What’s this about demons ? ”
“Diamonds,55 I said. “ I can’t do better,’* and, indeed, he could see for himself, that I was shaking from head to foot.
“ Well, now/’ he continued, “ you had better go at once to Pallia, and pack your things. Take all you value, for you are never coming back.”
Perhaps I was not going, hope whispered in my ear—the answer must come in an hour’s time ; and surely—oh, very certainly it would be yes. Did ever lover desire that little word, as I desired it ? No—never! I sat on the side of my bed, with my watch before me, counting the moments till the messenger would return. I had seen him gallop out of the compound, on Hugh’s first charger—an animal that had never been used to carry a message in its life.
Pallia was bustling about, and seemed to take the crash with the utmost composure—NO REPRIEVE.
157
she had apparently expected something of the kind.
“ Missy going England. Master plenty angry. I too going Bombay. Missy never minding me. Missy is found out. The fruit of the tree will fall at its foot. Poor master — poor master/'’ she muttered to herself.
“ Be quiet, Pallia! ” I exclaimed indignantly.
“Yes, Miss Ranee. When you go to England, you will be quiet; you will have no friends— no master, or Peggy, or Missy Mayne—nor poor Pallia, to scold—you will be alone, and like a blind man who has thrown his staff in the air! or like a straw on a wave.”
But time was far too valuable to waste in words, and she dragged out my boxes, and began to cram them with things, as fast as possible. She was a clever packer, an excellent lady’s ayah—when she chose. I watched her laying out my travelling dress, and hat, and gloves—it was HER firm conviction that I was to go. I followed her arrangements, with a sort of horrible fascination.
Was I really going away in less than two15»
DIANA BARRINGTON.
hours—thrust out of my pretty little home for ever, to be sent to exile, in far away, cold, foggy England, where I had no friends ?
I looked round the room at all my little ornaments, pictures, and knicknacks, in which I took such pride; there was a framed photo I had only hung up last week, a bracket that Peter had carved for me, a little clock that Hugh said was “a present from Billy”; there were various bits of salvage, from the old Bungalow on the Karrhan. As I gazed about, in a kind of dreary amazement, there was a knock at the door, and Hugh’s voice said :
“ The answer has come.”
I started up at once, and rushed out. How my heart was beating! Here was my reprieve ! And when Hugh knew all—oh, how; penitent he would be!
“ Sit down,” he said, with an imperative gesture, as I entered the drawing-room. “ I have 6pened the note.”
“Give it to me,” I said feverishly—“give it to me! ”
“ Presently,” he returned, moving back a pace.NO REPRIEVE,.
159
“I shall read it aloud to you, and you will hear how it sounds,
“ ‘ Dear Diana,—
“‘Your letter (which is half illegible) received. What a bore this is about your diamonds ! What evil little imp conducted your husband into ' Hookum’s ? I am sorry that I can do nothing. Possibly you have not heard, as I have not seen you lately, that Mr. Vavasour has been ill, and we are off to Australia for six months to-morrow. I feel overwhelmed with all I have to do. All married people have rows, more or less—the great thing is, not to be afraid of your husband (I grant that yours is a specially bad case). You married a bear> in my opinion. Still, bears can be tamed, and, after his sulks are over, you must smooth him down, and humour him, and after a time he will dance very prettily.
“Whatever happens, brave it out—this is my own private receipt, and has never failed me yet. As to what you ask—it is out of the question at present. Au revoir, my dear. If youióo
DIANA BARRINGTON
are still at Sindi when we return, you and I will have many a laugh over the ridiculous fuss that has been made, all because you have taken the liberty of doing what you like with your own property. Captain Fitzroy seems to forget that he is a pauper—married (of course most disinterestedly) to a girl with a large fortune, upon which he means to live ; do not allow him to bully you into the bargain ! Stop the supplies, that’s the way to tame them all! I hope when I return, that I shall find you the happy proprietor of a very nicely-behaved, intelligent, dancing bear.
“ Yours till then,
“M. Vavasour.”
This was a pretty letter to fall into a husband’s hands ; and more especially the hands that were holding it. I could give no idea of the sarcastic emphasis, with which Hugh read aloud this (to me) fatal document. If my affairs could be any worse than they were already, this letter—so sublimely indifferent to my fate, so mocking in its tone of easy patronage, soNO REPRIEVE.	'	161
insolent in its reference to my “ dancing bear,” this letter hurled me to the lowest abyss, to which misfortune could fling me. In it, Hugh saw, in his mind’s eye, the reflection of letters of mine —letters that had doubtless abused him, sneered at him, and ridiculed his empty pockets.
When he had concluded reading it, he looked up with steady, inflexible eyes, handed it to me politely, and said:
“ I am sure you would like to keep this valuable autograph letter, in your own possession. I am glad that I have been able to furnish you and Mrs. Vavasour, with so much diversion in the past; but your amusement at my expense is at an end—from to-day.”
As he spoke, I tore the letter into atoms, and frantically scattered it on the floor—and— laughed—yes—laughed — immoderately. I could not say what I was laughing at, but I felt as if something had snapped in my head, and that it was all — most amusing, and excessively funny !
“ I have been seriously considering what I am to do with you, Mrs. Fitzroy,” he said, when
VOL. III.
Mj(2	DIANA BARRINGTON.
I was a little more collected. “ This terrible thing, which has exploded our home, is not known in Sindi, nor to my brother officers. The only people in the secret are you and I— Mrs. Vavasour, and Hassard—and the servants.” “ The servants know nothing.”
“ That depends upon what you call nothing ! They know that you went out at eleven o’clock one night alone, and on foot, to meet some one in the Temple Gardens.”
“ It was Pallia who told you!” I cried passionately.
“Yes—she volunteered the information, for I have not yet fallen so low, as to question her.”
“ And she has eaten of our bread for twenty years ! Oh, what ingratitude !—what treachety ! ” “ My mother must be told,” he continued, as if I had not spoken. “Of course I could not ask her to receive you under her roof, but she will see, that you are placed in some strict family, who will never believe your word, or trust you out of their sight. Peggy shall live with you. She is a respectable old woman.NO REPRIEVE.
163
Your own money will not be available for some time. After you are of age, you can live on it very comfortably, unless there are other heavy calls on your purse, similar to the one made upon it recently, by your brilliant correspondent. I shall return to the mess, and my bachelor life ; and if any one asks questions, I shall tell them—that the air of Sindi did not suit you, and I was obliged to send you home—not the first matrimonial breach, that has been sheltered behind the word c Climate !;
“ And I—what am I to say ? ” I asked distractedly.
u Say ”—turning on me fiercely—“ say that your sins have found you out — say that you are ope of a tribe that is becoming unpleasantly numerous —say that you are a disgraced and discarded wife ! ” And with this overwhelming speech, he left me.
m 2CHAPTER XIII.
“TO BE TRANSPORTED FOR LIFE.”
“And life is thorny, and youth is vain ;
And to be wroth with one we love,
Doth work like madness in the brain.”
Coleridge
After this, I felt very strange—oh, very strange, indeed! I dressed, I scrambled together my few little treasures—Father’s watch, a pipe, and Bible ; Hugh’s photograph, and an old smoking-cap. Just something out of the wreck. Dinner was served, and I sat down in my hat and jacket; but I ate nothing, and Hugh scarcely touched a morsel. He only spoke once: “You had better eat some soup, or something ; you will get nothing till eleven to-morrow,” was his sole observation in a chilly voice.“TO BE TRANSPORTED FOR LIFER 165
I imagine that I astonished him a good deal by suddenly bursting into wild [peals of laughter. Never had I laughed so long or so heartily, as I did over this most melancholy meal — the funeral feast, as it were, of our married life. Hugh stared at me stonily, which only made me laugh the more. The servants stood round, amazed out of their usual dignified demeanour.
Missus eating nothing. Missus laughing too much.
At last we were off, driving rapidly to the station behind Candace, our best pony. Dear, irritable, speedy Candace! how proud I had been the day she first came home !
; It was not yet eight o'clock, and we met numbers of our neighbours driving homewards— Mrs. Gimlette, in her waggonette, who screamed out something about “ out to dinner," as we passed ; and Ada and her husband, who stopped us and said :
“ Shall you be in this evening? Ada and I will come over for a game of whist.”
“No, old fellow, not this evening," and he touched Candace smartly, and she sprang away.DIANA BARRINGTON.
166
All these people we met were driving merrily back to their homes, they little guessed that I had just been turned out of mine.
Pallia and I, had a large carriage to ourselves— full ladies* compartment — but I never spoke to her once, the treacherous wretch ! and she soon rolled herself comfortably up in her blanket, and went fast asleep on the floor.
I never even pretended to lie down, and sat staring out of the window, or walking restlessly about the carriage, till dawn came flickering in the east — darkness gradually withdrew her mantle from the low-lying plains, and the early birds, sat dressing themselves on the telegraph wires. I was giddy, sick, and bewildered, my head felt so strange, as if I had had a blow on it—had I been another girl, clever and sharp, and able to argue, perhaps I could have pleaded my cause with Hugh — but that was now hopeless; I could never clear myself, unless I committed a great sin and broke my solemn oath. Oh, why did I ever take it—why did I ever take it ? Easy to say this now. Did I not then believe that I had to deal with a madTO BE TRANSPORTED FOR LIFER 167
woman, and was I not ready to promise her everything ? All through the fresh early morning we travelled, and over the great Bhor Ghaut, along the sides of mountains, across narrow bridges, over gaps of abysmal depth, past rushing mountain torrents, and through splendid, stately scenery. Then we came in sight of the plains once more— the palms, the toddy trees, and the wide stretches of glittering water—betokening that we were approaching Bombay, and the sea. I loved India— the land of my birth ; and if my heart was capable of feeling one additional pang, it would be this— that I knew that I was now looking at it for the last time, and was about to bid adieu to it for ever. Before we reached the end of our journey, Pallia roused herself; deliberately arranged her saree, twisted up her coarse black chignon, and then proceeded to lecture me with her usual air of contemptuous reproach :
“ Missy never eating, never sleeping, all night. Missy sorry NOW. Honour lost for a pice—will not return for thousands. Mrs. Vavasour is a bad lady—she is not to be trusted. Missy Vavasour is like a snake—with a head at both ends.”DIANA BARRINGTON.
158
“ Be silent, Pallia ! ” I said at last, in desperation. “ I am utterly disgusted with you—and my head is aching. Do not speak to me again.”
“Ah, missy would never listen to me, but as the deaf listen to a song. What would master say—I mean poor old master ? **
Ay, indeed, what would he say ?
“ Leave me alone, Pallia/* I said distractedly. “Why will you torture me? Can I be more miserable than I am ? **
“ True, Miss Ranee. There is no cold to those that are completely wet. I am only a poor, ignorant, native woman, but God has been good, and given me one gift. All the world knows that Pallia is as sharp as a sickle. I saw that Colonel Hassard was as sly as a snake in a box; that Missy Vavasour, for all her kisses and her 4 dear darling/ rocked the cradle, and pinched the child. What days those were long-ago, Maharanee!—days before you knew her. You were Queen of all the plains, and when you came flying on your white horse, with money, and kind words, the people fell down and made salaams to the earth, for they thought you were“ TO BE TRANSPORTED FOR LIFE.” 169
the goddess of goodness! What are you now ? Oh—yea—yo! You are like a water-lily in the mud !”
“Pallia!77 I exclaimed, seizing her arm excitedly.
“ Missy—I will say no more !—I have done ! Why draw water, when the well is dry?"
“You had better say no more/’ I replied fiercely, now pushing her aside, and laying my hand on the carriage-door. “ Say one word— move your lips once—and I swear to you most solemnly that I shall jump out of the train, and kill myself! ”
As I spoke, 11 leant over the open window, and pointed to the appalling depths below us, with a steady hand. I think something in my manner and expression must have terrified Pallia, for she instantly shuffled down into a corner, and maintained an awe-struck silence, until we arrived at our destination—at about four o'clock that afternoon. We drove to the best hotel in Bombay, and climbed up to the third storey, at my request, for I wanted air, and Pallia struggled up behind me carrying bags and wraps. Our suite consisted170	DIANA BARRINGTON
of three rooms, and overlooked the harbour. Standing at the window, you saw the Esplanade, with its hired victorias, and weedy little Arabs, big evening carriages, and tramways, dashing equipages — containing wealthy, shiny - capped Parsees ; then there was the beautiful blue bay, and the shipping, comprising old hulks, Bunder boats, coasting vessels, colliers, mail steamers, cargo steamers, and one huge white Indian trooper, lying off the Apollo Bund. I sat down and tried to drink some tea, a woman’s invariable pick-me-up, and refreshment—but I could not manage to swallow a drop, it seemed to choke me. When twilight had fallen, and the parade, and shipping, were becoming dim and indistinct, Hugh came in, and said :
“ Still sitting there! I have been to the Adjutant-General’s office, and got three months’ leave, and I have taken our passages for tomorrow, in the mail. I’ve sent a telegram to Mayne, and you had better write her a line. Say,, that a great family trouble has suddenly called you home.—You will dine up here, of course.”
. And without waiting for any reply, he left“TO BE TRANSPORTED FOR LI FES 171
me—left me, to thoughts, which surely touched the bounds of madness! Would it not be well, if I flung myself out of the window—a mere delightful falling through the air, a crash—and then death ? Better to end life at once—than to drag out long years of unspeakable dreariness.—But fortunately I turned a deaf ear to the insinuating little imp, who was perched on my shoulder; and when Hugh came in, at ten o’clock, I still sat alone at the window, in the darkness. I could not endure light, or noise—at the opening of the door, I felt inclined to scream.
Hugh was surprised, as he made out my figure in the dusk. He lit a candle—two candles, and then went over to a table,, and got out pens, and paper, and placing a chair, said :
“You had better write that note now, for the steam launch takes us off at seven tomorrow morning, Come—you may as well send her a line—for your own sake.”
I rose, and went over at once--sat down, pen in hand, and wrote away furiously, over two sides of a sheet of paper.172
DIANA BARRINGTON.
“ There! ” I exclaimed, hastily pushing it towards him, “ I can’t do any more.”
He took it up, glanced at it, and then stared very hard at me. I had given him a letter all covered with scribbling—just such as would be produced by a child of two.
He moved a candle close to my face, and I stared back at him—with blazing eyes, and scarlet cheeks, and laughed, and said :
“ Who is it to ? Is it for Mrs. Vavasour ? Will it do ? ”
It would not do at all! For it was plain to be seen, that I was either going raving mad, or was in for a most terrible attack of brain-fever !CHAPTER XIV.
AT DEATH’S DOOR.
“ Triumphant Death his dart Shook, but delay’d to strike.”
Paradise Lost.
It was brain-fever.
Mrs. Vavasour was perfectly right when she declared that I had a “ tough ” constitution. For weeks and weeks I lay in the upper storey of the hotel; and all the stairs and passages were lightly trod, on account of the young lady who was said to be dying. For twenty-one days the fever ran its course, licking up my life, and scorching my brain. I raved, laughed, sang, and danced. Poor Mrs. RaitPs kind efforts to keep me in bed were useless; and it took Hugh’s174
DIANA BARRINGTON
utmost strength—and he was a very strong man —to keep me down, and prevent me from “ going to church/* or “to a ball/* or “to see Mrs. Vavasour!” according to whatever crazy notion possessed me at the time. I chattered ceaselessly— of diamonds and Coopoodoo ; of Herr Schammel, Rukoo, my mother, and the Evil Eye! Such wild, mad topics, had never been heard outside Bedlam. I would jump out of bed and dance; or I would throw myself on my knees, and weep, and wring my hands most piteously. Also —I had a rather sweet, uncultivated voice, of which I was excessively shy, and rarely lifted it, save when alone. I now sang uninterruptedly for hours, and played the violin on a pillow in my arms!
I believe poor Hugh—who rarely dared to leave me—and never took off his clothes for nights, had a dreadful time. All this I heard long afterwards. Occasionally I seemed to see faces, in a mist, and Hugh’s was always among them. The frenzy of fever, which had seemed to burn my very bones, was only equalled by the reaction, which set in when itAT DEATH’S DOOR.
175
left me, a miserable wreck, more dead' than alive — all my faculties were numb, and I lay in a kind of torpor, powerless to move a limb, or utter a word. When at the end of several weeks I came to my senses, I discovered Peggy sitting beside me. ' She had come to release kind Mrs. Raitt, who had nursed me through the' worst. Peggy was unchanged ; she wore the same queer caps, and v aprons, and was "as imperious as ever. I must not speak, L must not iiiove, I must not do this, that, or the other. I wlas mending *at last, thank God. Yes, I was getting ■better; very slowly I crept back to life, in tbat airy upper room, lying with a deadened brain,, gazing from sunrise to sunset at the sky and, sea, listening lazily to the tingling bells of the. tram horses in the street below, and the musical chimes of, the great clock. By-and-by Peggy allowed me to talk a little, and to listen a good deal.
“ït; all came of my being away*,” was her modest remark. “ And well I krjow who is at thé bottom of your troubles. God pardon her for all her sins.”176
DIANA BARRINGTON
I turned my head, and looked at Peggy fixedly.
“ Who else would you give over money for, and bind yourself to secrecy—who else but her?” “You always told me that she was dead.”
“I did; and Heaven forgive me for it,” making the sign of the cross as she spoke, “ and many a penance it cost me.” (Pallia had often declared that Peggy would tell lies by the thousand, and build a temple.) “ But it was best—and there are some people did ought to be dead, and sure, who would ever think you would come across her? The world is wide.”
“ Then, Peggy, since you know, I may tell you.”
And then, in a feeble voice, and with many" stops and gaspings for breath, I poured out all my story.
“ I knew my own girl, that I reared, could never be so desperately changed. I knew it well>,, she said, wiping her eyes in her apron;
but what could I do, when the Captain took me aside into the sitting-room, and told me just the most terrible tale I ever heard in myAT DEATH'S DOOR.
177
life—ay, and proved it too. All I could say was : * Sir, if Miss Ranee done what you say, the poor child is out of her mind, and ought to be put in some private asylum/ That’s just what I said, Miss Ranee, and I tell it back to your own face.”
“ And what did he say ? ” I asked tremulously.
“ He said you were as sane as I was; but that, if he had to live with you any longer, he would be in Hanwell—which I take to be a madhouse.”
“And he has nearly reduced me to idiotcy,” I exclaimed. “ Peggy, I must speak, or my heart will burst, You don’t know him when he is angry; he is another man. Bad-tempered people you don’t mind—you get accustomed to them and their outbursts ; but when—a man —whom you have never seen put out in his life —when he is in a rage—you never forget it.”
“ But, still, Miss Ranee, you did wrong to keep things from him—and you did things, dearie, that looked very black—even to me. That Mrs. Lawless was a bad example for you ! Her very breath would bring ill-luck.”
vol. hi.
Ni78
DIANA BARRINGTON
“The secret has ruined me, Peggy. Mrs. Lawless had nothing to do with it. I have not seen her since I was in Gurrumpore.—It was all the secret ”
“ Why did you ever offer to keep it ? ” she asked testily.
“It is all so easy to ask that now—th ^ secret has been my bane—it and my diamonds.” “And what in the name of goodness have they to say to it, my darling girl?”
(C They discovered me to her, and sold me into bondage; they discovered me to Hugh, and sold me into bondage to him. If she had never seen them, she would never have wanted me to sell them. I hate them now ! ”
“Ay! and you were so set on them at first! I mind you well, figuring with them at the glass, and as proud as the prince of peacocks. , I believe myself, that the Devil , was in that Evil Eye. Bad luck to it! ”
“ Nonsense, Peggy.”
“Well, any way, you have had a power of disasters since you got it; but you would not have had one, if I had been at your elbow.AT DEATH’S DOOR.
179
And first and foremost, your husband bid to be told. I’d tell him meself — but Fm as bad as you; the master laid his commands on me, never to name her, so you must just write off and say you can keep the secret no longer. Surely to goodness, she does not want to ruin her own daughter for life ? ”
“ How can I write? I do not know where she is, and Australia is a large place. She knows Hugh is a gentleman, and a man of honour. Why does she refuse to let me tell him?"
“ Oh, good morrow to you for a simple, innocent child! And do you not know that?” said Peggy excitedly. “ Do you think if he knew, he would let her run her arm down elbow deep into your pocket, and pick out four thousand pounds? Now I just ask ye that?"
“ But now—when she has got all-------”
a All? Why, sure, and aren’t you coming
into your fortune in a few months-----? ”
“ If I live," I interrupted.
“ I know she was giddy and thoughtless, and
N 2i8o
DIANA BARRINGTON.
had a heart no bigger than a pea; but I never believed she would turn out like this ! She never pretended to care for children, and just had you in to show off at a party in your pretty frock and ribbons—that was all she ever axed to see of you. Why, even an animal has some love for its own; and there does be birds, that plucks the down and the best of the feathers off themselves, and make nests for their young. With her—more shame for her!—it’s the other way. She plucks you bare to feather her own nest, and leaves you without home, or husband, or character, and goes off to the end of the world as if it was a grand joke. She broke your father’s heart, though he did not die of it. You must be brave, and determined, and fight for yourself, or she’ll break yours.”
<f It is broken,” I sobbed. “ I have nothing left to fight for—now.” And as I covered my face, with my skeleton hands, tears trickled down between them.
“ Oh, for mercy sake, don’t cry* my heart! And haven’t you your husband ? ”
“ No. He is unjust—he never gave me oneAT DEATH'S DOOR.
18 r
chance. What is his love—when—it can be burnt up in one hour with jealousy—and—when he won't believe one word I say ? "
“Well, you know you did tell him a good deal that was not true, Miss Ranee. I'm afraid he found you a terrible handful altogether. Ye did deceive him, for I have your own word for it."
“ I did, I did/’ I sobbed. “ I know I never deserve to be believed again.—I feel as if I had been another girl, a mean, false, shuffling creature, whom I hate; but it was myself all the time."
“ Miss Ranee," said Peggy impressively, “ if the doctor saw you, roaring and crying, like this, he'd be as wild as Barney O’Toole's pig. Don't talk any more, honey—I see your heart is sore, and indeed they have been hard on you among them, and as to the Colonel, that let on he was your cousin, he was just a melted rogue."
“Where is Hugh ?" I asked, endeavouring to stifle my sobs.
“ Gone back to his duties, now you are on the mend ; he was here at first night and day *182
DIANA BARRINGTON.
and Mrs. Raitt is one of God’s own people, though she may not be, so to say, a lady all out; and that young creature, Mrs. Mayne, was better nor a sister to you—I could just lay me two hands under her feet; she was wore entirely out, and her husband came and fetched her away; and there was poor Mr. Hare—he came down once all the way, and seemed tee-totally beside himself; and indeed, Miss Ranee, if having people very unhappy, and down, is any relief to you— you ought to be a proud girl! ”
“ And how did you come out ? ” I answered feebly.
“ By the telegraph,” was her startling reply. “ I was up at home, in the Dublin mountains, in a very out-of-the-way part; only one shop, and no dispensary.—Faix, when people is took badly there, they have to die without the help of a doctor. Well, I was just after taking me tay — there’s nothing that nourishes the heart in one, like a fine strong cup of tay, that the spoon could stand in—and it was just as well I was fortified—when me brother Pat brought me in a telegram—for I got a terrible turn, forAT DEATH’S DOOR.
183
I never received one of them things before. Me brother spelled it out, and it said:
“ ‘ Captain Fitzroy, Bombay.
“ ‘ Come out steamer Chitsan. Apply King and Co., London/
“Well, this was the seventeenth; short work; but I was soon ready. John drove me to the station, and took me to Kingstown, and saw me aboard the boat. I was in London in good time, and I travelled out overland and first class in great style. But I need not tell you, Miss Ranee, I knew me place, and took me meals alone; and now Pm here, I am never going to let you out of my sight as long as ever I live.”
“ Or as long as / live, and that may not be long.”
“Nonsense,” she returned angrily. “ Don^t be talking nonsense.”
“ Oh, Peggy, I would give anything if I could only see the Bungalow once before I die! How little I knew, how little I guessed, what184	DIAJVA BARRINGTON
was in store for me, when I used to sit by the river, and gaze at the stars, and long to see the great world, and take my part in life. I have had my wish, and played my part, you see ; and it- has been a dead failure. Peggy, as you love me, take me home. I feel as if the only chance I have of being happy again—no, happy is too strong a word—less miserable—is to see once more the brown river, and the big eddies, and the great, quiet Jungle stretching round me. And if I die, you will bury me beside father, under the palm-tree ; and—if you put a stone over my head — you may write on it:
“ DIANA ALSO SLEEPS HERE.
“ ‘ ALL IS VANITY/ ”
“Vanity!'’ screamed Peggy, “I should just think so! I never in this mortal world, heard such mad, outrageous talk ! Some of these days, you will be thankful, that it was only old Peggy Magee, was listening to you! ”
After a while, I was moved to a sofa near the window, and Mrs. Raitt would keep meAT DEATH’S BOOT,
i85
company for hours. She told me, that every one had been so anxious, and so sorry for Hugh—and that in her opinion, I owed my illness to Sindi—it lay so low—especially our side, and she hoped that I would be a warning to people living in those lines. I begged her to let me see myself in a glass, but she always said :
“Well, lovey, not yet; you see we don’t mind, we are tised to you—just wait till you get a little flesh on your bones. But you will pick up ; the only thing is your hair.” Yes, my poor hair! it had been all cut off. “ Peggy,” she asked one day, “what have you done with Miss Barrington^ hair ? ” (I was always Miss Barrington with her.)
“ Kep it, av coorse,” returned Peggy—“ to show to her children some day, as an example of what hair should be—but I’m not going to show it to her?
“ Indeed you are! ” I protested indignantly.
“ I declare it;s a judgment on the two of us, Miss Ranee, for being so proud of it.”
At last, when I pressed her greatly, and186
DIANA BARRINGTON,i
begged very hard, she reluctantly brought out a white silk handkerchief, and then unrolled from it my long, soft, beautiful hair—it measured a yard and two inches, and had been shorn off close to my head.
“We cut it the second day,” explained Mrs. Raitt. “I came by the early train, and stood out for an hour—but when the doctors—there were three—said it was your hair, or your life, I thought it best to let the hair go — for it might grow again, and the life wouldn't/”
Mrs. Raitt used to sit and knit, and talk to me, and tell me little 'bits of news from Gurrumpore, and strange anecdotes about her own career, that aroused and interested me, and kept my thoughts from brooding on other things. I liked to watch her, and to listen to her. She was so plump, so good-humoured, so kind, and so content. By the time she went away, I had been promoted to a chair in the window; and then Father Paul arrived, but I did not see him the first day he came. Peggy told me that he and Hugh had done “a terrible lot of talking, all about me, that the doctorsAT DEATH'S DOOR.
187
were against my going to England at the time of year, and that I was to be sent to the nearest hill station/’
“ I saw his Reverence preaching and expounding to him/’ she said, “ all the same as if he was in the pulpit, and» A? won’t believe no harm of you ; and the long and the short of it is, Miss Ranee, that I think the Captain will take you back and give you another chance.”
“An,d if I won’t go back?” I asked resentfully.
“Well, anyhow, you will have to be up in the hills for a good four or five months, and that will give you time to consider things over.”
“ When am I to go ? ”
“As soon as ever you can be moved. The Captain has to go back on the mail to-morrow, but he will return in time to take you away; and Father Paul and I will stop here and mind you.”
“You are all too good to me,” I could not .help saying. “ Even Hugh—now”188
DIANA BARRINGTON.
“The Captain is to see you this evening ; the doctors say it will do you no harm. He has not laid eyes on you, since you came out of the fever; and then he was head nurse. I must try and make you a bit smart.”
“Yes, if you can,” I answered, with a dreary smile. “Mind you stay in the room, Peggy; don’t leave us alone.—Promise me you won’t leave us alone.”
“No fear. Sure, Beelzebub himself would not say a word to you now,” she answered reassuringly.
At half-past four, I was dressed in a white cambric wrapper, my locks were neatly brushed, and I was placed in my arm-chair by the window, and for once I was allowed to have a handglass. I looked into it eagerly. But who was this, with immense eyes, pinched features, and short hair? Not I ? I did not recognise myself, and surely no one else would know me. What a strange thing had happened! Diana Fitzroy, as she once appeared, was gone — was dead—and had left such a miserable substitute in her place—a sort of living skeleton, withAT DEATH'S DOOR.
189
hollow cheeks and sunken eyes. I put away the glass hastily; I could not bear to look at that spectre of myself. I gazed at my hands ; they were like old Rukoo's, but very white and transparent. I could see the light through them easily. They would never be able to hold a pulling horse or handle a rifle again ; if they poured out tea, it was as much as could be expected of them.
Presently Hugh came up, treading softly—but I knew his step. Peggy opened the door, and he entered, and walked half across the room. He looked thin, and ill, and careworn too. He stopped abruptly when he caught sight of me, with an expression of incredulous horror on his face ; but he mastered himself by a wonderful effort, and came on, and said, as he took a chair opposite mine:
“ Well, Ranee ! ” (the national British greeting).
“ Well, Plugh ! ” I echoed, in a low voice.
“I hope you are better?” he asked unsteadily.
“ Yes.”190
DIANA BARRINGTON.
“ I am sorry to see you so much pulled down.”
As he said this, he did not look at me, but on the floor, and Peggy coughed significantly, and said :
“Yes, but a change to the hills will set her up again, please God ! ”
“I am going back to-night,” he continued. “ Is there anything you would like from Sindi ? ”
“No,” I answered shortly.
“No message for any one ?”
“ No.”
' “Not even Ada?” he inquired, with a sort of haggard smile.
“Yes—my love.”
Here Peggy coughed again, and he said:
“Well, then, I must be going.—I hope to return, and take you to the hills in about ten days. Would, you like to have the cart up there, and Candace?”
“ No,” I repeated, with numb apathy.
“ Good-bye ! ” he said, as he took my skeleton hand in his for a second, and then he wentAT DEATH'S DOOR.
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away, and Peggy with him. She looked unusually cheerful when she returned, but her eyes were red.
“What is the matter, Peggy ?" I asked at once.
“ Nothing at all, at all, me darlinV’
“What is it? You are keeping something from me—and you must tell me/’ I urged, with the peevishness of a pampered invalid.
“Don't I tell you it is nothing?"
“And don’t I tell you that it is something?" I persisted.
“ Oh, I see you are as bad as ever. Signs on it, you are getting better !"
“Yes. Tell me, what makes your eyes so red ? ”
“ Well, then, God knows I could not help it! It's enough to melt the heart of a brazen image, to see a man crying."
“ Do you mean Hugh ? He thinks me very ill, does he ? He thinks I am going to die. Why should he pretend to be sorry ? He ought to be very glad ! ”DIANA BARRINGTON.
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“ Pretend ! ” echoed Peggy. u See now. Miss Ranee—hold your tongue ! Many is the thing you’ve said, as was best left alone—but that’s just the very wickedest word you ever spoke, since you were born?CHAPTER XV.
“SHALL I TELL YOU?”
“ He was ever precise, in promise keeping.”
Measure for Measure.
After Hugh went away,, Father Paul remained, and was permitted to see me: he put no restraint on his feelings, and I saw tears twinkling in his old brown eyes, as he held my hand in his. It soothed me to see him, it was like a breath .of cool, strong air, in a sultry place. He did me good, and he knelt down beside me, Protestant as I was, and thanked God for having spared my young life; to which prayer Peggy said “ Amen ” most heartily. When later she had descended in search of her indispensable cup of tea, he and I sat side by side,
VOL. in.
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DIANA BARRINGTON
at the open window, and gazed over the wide bay, and watched the native craft, passing between the shore, and the ships at anchor.
“ Diana, you are not to speak,” he said; “ but I may talk to you, and now you have been given a new lease of life, I hope you will turn it to a better account.”
“ Do you believe ill of me too f ” I asked reproachfully.
“No—no—I do not think you are wicked. I know your mind too well—possibly you have been weak, foolish, and vain; and, I am afraid, that you practised deceit You are changed,” he exclaimed, with a sigh.
“Yes, since I am married — I feel—oh, so old now.”
“And have you been a good wife, Diana? Your husband may be hasty and hot-tempered, but surely he has been good to you? He has given you his name, his money, his love. And—he has suffered. What has become of his spirits, and his merry laugh ? He is graver and more serious now, than I am. You must not think hardly of one another! I have“SHALL I TELL YOU?
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talked to him, and earnestly pointed out how rash a.thing it is, to uproot one's home; how cruel to throw you among strangers, a girl like you, who has no relations, and that the stigma of being separated from her husband, is one which a woman’s reputation never recovers. I have ■‘recalled to him your strange bringing up—your wild, unconventional ideas—your innocence. I told him that you were easily influenced, and timid morally, and credulous, and therefore a tempting tool, in the hands of an unscrupulous person.”
“ And what did he say ? ” I inquired, in a faint voice.
“Not much. And now that his mother is 4ead, he is not so anxious to send you home."
“ Is she dead ? I never knew it! ”
“ Yes—she died when you were very ill.”
(It may seem a very heartless thing to say, but the death of old Mrs. Fitzroy could not have taken place more opportunely; for to her demise was attributed our hurried departure for England, postponed, of course, in consequence of my illness.)
o 2igó
DIANA BARRINGTON
I desired Peggy to get me a black dress which she did with alacrity, having, like all the lower order of Irish, a great respect and admiration, for a good show of the deepest crêpe and mourning. My mourning made me look more ghastly than ever, as I drove about of an evening in a large open carriage, attended by Peggy and the Padre ; we were undoubtedly a good deal stared at ; I, with my weird-looking face propped up among pillows, Father Paul, with his tanned skin and long white beard, and Peggy in her obsolete attire. We enjoyed these airings extremely, as we drove along by Malabar Hill, in search of the evening breezes, talking over what we called “old times”—present times, alas! were not a comfortable topic. I was soon sufficiently strong to be moved up to the hills—those wonderful Indian hills, with their unrivalled dawns and sunsets, their valleys of mist, majestic heights, and vague views of low-lying plains. When I had been some months at “ Callian,” my baby was born. The most audacious flatterer could not have called him a “fine child/’ much less a beautiful infant ; but he was perfect in his“SHALL 1 TELL YOU?”
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mothers eyes, and I named him John Barrington. Peggy, instead of being delighted, was not merely disappointed, but actually angry, and contemptuous, because he was so inferior to a certain wonderful child in the same hotel.
tc You were a lovely infant yourself, Miss Ranee,” she would say reproachfully, “and it was proud I was to carry you, and show you off; but when people says to me now, f Oh, is that Mrs. Fitzroy’s baby ? Do let me see it/ I give ye me word, the knees shake under me, and I feel inclined to turn, and run ! Sure, he is no bigger than my hand, and doesn’t he look as if he had all the cares of the world on his poor little shoulders ?—I hope the Captain won’t see him before he fills out ! ”
The Captain never saw him, and he never filled out. He only lived six weeks, and then he was taken from me ; and if I could be more broken-hearted than I had been for the last six months, I was heart-broken now. Those mothers, who had suffered similar losses, came and tried to comfort me; but I repulsed them almost fiercely, and turned a deaf198	DIANA BARRINGTON.
ear to all consolations. This child was to have been everything to me, and I would have been everything to it Now it was gone, and I had nothing left.
“ It is not right to grieve in this way, dear Mrs. Fitzroy,” said one kind visitor. “ You will ruin your eyesight with crying, you will injure your health. You are not like poor Mrs. Rothwell,, you have much to be thankful for—you have your husband.”
What was the use of telling this warm-hearted Samaritan, that I had lost him long ago ? I made no answer; I only went on crying more bitterly and hopelessly than ever ; and my well-meaning adviser, finding that her efforts were thrown away, abandoned me to Peggy, and my own devices.
Peggy did me more good than any one0 She rated me soundly, for what she termed my “ wickednesstold me plainly, that the child never could have lived, and it was a wonder it struggled on so long; its heart was affected, and I had no one to thank for that} but my fretting, and myselfi
Time waits for no one, Time heals most“SHALL 1 TELL YOU?
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wounds; Time brought me health. I was able to join the table d'hote, to walk almost unsupported, and to sit out of doors for hours. Hughes busy season was over, and he paid me flying visits—very flying, indeed \ and once Peter accompanied him, and remained for three days. We were so delighted to meet one another again, that it was not easy to dispel the idea, that he was Captain Fitzroy, and not the silent, dark gentleman, who left us so much to ourselves. As a high mark of affection—or, perhaps, with some frantic notion of consoling me for my loss, Peter triumphantly produced Billy, from a basket, and placed him in my arms. This kind experiment, was a disastrous failure. Billy, to quote Peggy, “ fought rings round ” with the hotel cat; and, after a sharp struggle, dismissed him with an immense loss of prestige, and fur.
After this, he had a desperate duel with a fox - terrier, and again distinguished himself, scratching the dog so unmercifully that it ran yelping to its mistress ; he then devoured a live canary, and a cold roast chicken, and concluded a short, but not inglorious career, by200
DIANA BARRINGTON.
disappearing up the hotel chimney, from whence he was dislodged and kept in durance until the following day—when he was repacked in his basket, and despatched to Sindi. I made several acquaintances at the hotel; among others I came to know Mr. Kirke, Carrie’s former admirer. I was determined to be friends with him. I made bold advances, I threw myself in his way—for he was most determinedly shy —and I am certain that he thought me an excessively forward young woman—either that, or a particularly tiresome, exacting invalid. I compelled him to carry my wraps and books, to wind my worsted, to read aloud to me, and to sit next me at meals—but I did it all for Carrie! Letty Lawless had arranged the truth, I was resolved to rearrange it. Why should not Carrie be happy ? She had no unlucky secrets in her life, and Mr. Kirke was different to Hugh. I had now a new interest in life, I was bent on winning back Carrie’s lover; and, after all, it was not a task that went against the grain.^I liked Mr. Kirke immensely, although he had a ridiculous habit of holding“SHALL L TELL YOU?”
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his head on one side—like a crow peeping down a marrow-bone — and he was awkward, shy, and plain.
On the other hand, he was clever and well read—in am unobtrusive style, that did not pain other people, and make them feel like fools. He was fond of dogs and children, and they were devoted to him; and was most unselfish, thoughtful, and good-natured. How at hotels you can see with half an eye, and at once, who are the really unselfish people ! Place after place he took at table, and was turned out of it, until I made a resolute stand, and indignantly refused to allow him to be parted from ME ! He lent his books, his pony, and his newspapers,— he fought as champion of the oppressed, and battled — poor man ! — over the bills of single ladies, and grass widows, who were staying at the hotel, like myself. He rode with the ugly girl at picnics, took the stupidest old dowager to supper, mended the children’s toys, prescribed for sick dogs, repaired broken china, and, in short, was both popular and useful.
The first time I ventured to allude to “my202
DIANA BARRINGTON,
friend Miss Raitt,” he was startled—red, and nervous—but I soon learnt to tread, with a freer foot, over this delicate ground, and he, on his side, seemed to find my society quite amazingly attractive. We talked “ Carrie,” over five o’clock tea, in my little sitting-room, and in secluded flowery nooks, on the tennis-ground,—and the Mrs. Grundy of the hotel, our own special mischief-maker, hinted to various people that “ Mrs. Fitzroy, for all her frail looks, and invalid airs, was not a bit too delicate to flirt! ”
When I had thus artfully smoothed the way,, I wrote and invited Carrie to come up and keep me company and pay me a long visit—and then I left the rest to Fate—that is to say, to Fate, assisted by a certain amount of judicious gooseberry pickling—and, at the end of ten days* time, a little picnic (a moonlight picnic) settled the affair, and Carrie was once more engaged to Mr. Kirke.
And we were all very happy. Just at this point Hugh came upon the scene, and, being endowed with considerable penetration, took in the situation at a glance. Indeed, he was“SHALL 1 TELL YOUt
203
promptly pressed into service, as assistant gooseberry picker. The evening after he arrived, we all strolled out together in the moonlight— Hugh and I walking behind the others, discreetly blind and deaf; I could not help feeling a pang of envy, as I watched them—they were both older than we were — considerably older than we were — and yet all the best part of their lives lay before them—and ours, was past —my happiness, youth, and future, were dead— and yet-—would I change places with Carrie ? No.
“ I understand that this — is chiefly your arrangement! ” said Hugh, nodding at the happy couple in front of us.
: “Yes/’ I rejoined, with some complacency.
“ I hope Carrie and Kirke will be properly grateful, in years to come. But I should have
thought-----” and he stopped abruptly, and
walked on in silence.
“You would have thought, that my own affair, having turned out so unfortunately, I would be the last to inveigle any one into matrimony — is not that what you were going to say ? ” '204
DIANA BARRINGTON
“ Well, since you will have it, something of the sort — did occur to me. However, she is an amiable, commonplace girl. She lacks the energy, and imagination, to do anything — startling — or that will ever give Kirke a moment’s uneasiness. He is an honest, plodding, and most excellent fellow—he will be led by the nose. May he be happy ! ”
“I am not at all sure that he will be led by the nose,” I said, seating myself on a bench, that was placed on a point overlooking the plains. It was called “The Lovers’ Seat,” though it was rather too prominently situated, to deserve that title.	Our lovers had dis-
appeared, and I was too tired to pursue them any farther.
“Well, that is my impression; and—now, Diana, I am going to speak to you about something most seriously.—I wonder if it will do you any harm ? ”
“If you are going to speak to me, as you did once before, you will kill me—that is all,” I answered, with convincing prompitude.
“You need not be alarmed; but there isSHALL I TELL YOU?
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something that I must say to you. I will say it as quickly as I can, and, for goodness' sake, don't excite yourself."
“Go on, then/' I said, “get it over."
“ It is merely this: Of course you and I can — never be as — we were before; but as Father Paul has pointed out to me, I am alone. You—are alone; you have no relatives; you are an orphan." (Was I ?)	“ It is a serious
thing for a woman to be outwardly separated from her husband. There has been some talk already in Sindi — though, goodness knows, I have done my best to keep up appearances—* and — and so, if you like to come back — you can."
This was not a very pressing invitation! I did not change my attitude; I did not look at Hugh; but I shook my averted head, and said :
“No—thank you," with a sort of catching of my breath.
“ And what will you do ?" he asked, collectedly, after a moment’s silence.
“ Go home; back to the old Bungalow.2o6
DIANA BARRINGTON
Yes; I think I shalli have the best chance of happiness, where nothing but the memory of happiness lingers/'
. “And do you mean to say that you are willing to bury yourself there, for the remainder of your life ? ” he demanded.
“Yes, why not? I have seen life.”
“ At twenty ? ” he echoed incredulously.
“ At twenty. I am an old woman. I have been a station belle—I have been a wife—an heiress, a social success—a subject for scandal—and— a domestic outcast. What have I to learn ?— All is vanity. Life, as I once pictured, is but a mirage, a Dead Sea apple.”
“Are you serious, Diana, or is this just your old way of talking at random ?”
“ I am perfectly serious —• never more so, and I long to return to my Jungle home, ten times more eagerly than I once longed to quit it. I shall take Peggy, and—Pallia, and Cassim, and reign once more as Princess of the Jungle, and among my own people.”
“You are sorry you ever quitted them?”
I evaded this question by another, and said :“SHALL I TELL YOU?”
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“ Are you not sorry ♦now, that • you ever tossed that rupee in Saloor Dak Bungalow — which sent you to Ram Tek—to find me?”
“No/* he answered, to my great surprise, “ I am not sorry — it was i Kismet/ as they say out here. You were the wife that Fate held in store for me.—I had a vague, feeling as to WHO you were, when I found you asleep on the old temple steps by the lake. I would have been miserable, if I had not married you. I am miserable, now that I am married to you 1 I agree with a fellow in one of Charles Readers novels. Everything is nothing—nothing is everything.—It will be all the same a hundred years hence.”
And he folded his arms, and looked away across the plains, with a fixed, rigid expression on his face.
“ Hugh/’ I said sharply, rising as I spoke, and feeling impelled towards him, by some strange feeling of pity for him, and pity for myself, “ listen to me. If I were to break a most solemn oath, sworn on the Bible, I could clear myself in your eyes now, this moment—2o8
DIANA BARRINGTON
and I never was so-strongly tempted in all my life. Why should one word—a breath of air, as it were—stand between us and blacken our lives? Hugh, shall I speak ?” I asked excitedly. “ Shall I tell you—it is for you to say ? ”
Then there was a silence for several moments. Hugh turned and looked at me steadfastly—it was as if our two souls were gazing at each other. He seemed to be battling with some fierce inward emotion — his face looked white and haggard. For my part, I was so desperately agitated, that I could no longer stand ! At length he made a quick gesture of repudiation, and said—in a cold, condemnatory tone:
‘‘No — never — your word is sacred. True daughter of Eve! would you tempt me, to bid you break it ? I must have sunk very low in your opinion, if you suppose, that I would consent to such a deed—even although, as you say—one word, a mere breath—would release our lives from the pit of darkness.”
There was no more to be said! I knew“SHALL I TELL YOU?
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that Hugh’s ideas of honour, were far loftier than mine. I had been mad, to ask him such a question —- and, after my excited outburst of supplication, I collapsed like a stricken creature, and covered my face with both my thin little hands, to hide my shame—ay, and my tears.

pCHAPTER XVT«
TWO ENGAGEMENTS.
w At every word a reputation dies/’
Pope.
No, I would not return to Sindi; and even after Carrie had been recalled home, I remained on at the hotel with Peggy, leading a very uneventful life—reading, working, and walking. I made clothes for Ada Mayne^s baby; and, if anything would have tempted me down to the plains, it would have been to see my little goddaughter. The hill station, where I was staying, was central, and what Peggy called “ convenient ” to many places; and people were constantly coming, and going, and running up for a few days^ Among others, Colonel Hassard appearedTWO ENGAGEMENTS.
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upon the scene, to my intense disgust. He came in the train of a very pretty woman—whose cousin he was said to be. Apparently his supply of cousins was unlimited. He sat directly opposite to me at the table d'hote, and did not recognise me, and, indeed, no wonder. Some one on his left hand—an old habitué of the hotel— was evidently retailing the histories of all present, and possibly mentioned me, and my famous diamonds—for their reputation seemed to have preceded me everywhere—and then he glanced across, and our eyes met. A smile of recognition was hovering round his lips ; if he thought that I would ever speak to him again, the delusion could not be too thoroughly, ‘or too promptly, dispelled. I looked him full in the face with a stony, neutral stare, and cut him dead. He only remained at the hotel for a few days, and for those few days I had my meals in my private sitting-room.
I could not remain altogether indoors, and once or twice I came across Julian flassard and his latest admiration. He was bending over her, talking to her in the same delightful, confi-
p 2212
DIANA BARRINGTON.
dential manner in which he used to talk to me. How blind I had been in those days ! And did she, his pretty cousin, know whither she was drifting ? And did she know what would be the climax of his soft and subtle civilities ?
Soon after Colonel Hassard had departed, I found another familiar face confronting me at the dinner-table.—This was that of no less a person than Mrs. Little! She had a shrivelled, discontented look, but she pretended to be enchanted to meet me once more, and brought her coffee-cup over after dinner, and sat beside me. She had just arrived from Sindi; and was full of curiosity about me, about my illness, about my plans, and put many disconcerting questions.
After a sweeping condemnation of Sindi society, and figuratively casting her shoe over that place, she exclaimed:
“ Well, I would never have known you again, my dear Mrs. Fitzroy, for, although I had been prepared, I did not expect to see you so shockingly altered, such a complete wreck!”
As I had no vanity left, I did not wince; indeed, I believe I smiled in her face.TWO ENGAGEMENTS.
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“ And so poor Carrie Raitt is actually going to be married at last! Wonders will never cease! ”
“Why poor? And why at last?” I asked sharply.
“ Because the dear girl has been out so long, and is all but an old maid ! Then she is frightfully handicapped by her dreadful old mother. She really ought to be shut up.”
“ I must remind you, Mrs. Little, that the Raitts are particular friends of mine,” I said stiffly.
“Ah!—-well, you need not be so fierce; but of course I know that a long illness does make people irritable. Mr. Kirke, at any rate, is not a particular friend. He is a hideous, dull, little man—and, worse than all, there is madness in his family.”
“ There is not, Mrs. Little,” I answered indignantly, “ no more than there is in yours or mine. At least, I can answer for mine. I know all about his relatives.” (Had he not talked them over for hours with me—had I not read all their kind letters to Carrie ?)214
DIANA BARRINGTON.
“ If you will take my advice,” I continued courageously, “you will not repeat that remark to any one else, or you will certainly get into trouble.”
Spiteful Mrs. Little could hardly believe her ears—nor that a “ chit ” of my age should dare to rebuke a woman of her years (“ five-and-twenty,” she said). Her cruel little gray eyes gleamed, and glared fixedly into mine!
The day was now passed for the prancings of the tourney, and I saw that we were going to have a battle a outrance, and my heart, strange to say, did not quail; but then I could always fight so much better for other people, than for myself, and meant to stand up for the Raitt family through thick and thin. However, as it turned out, she was going to carry the war into my own camp—for she said, with a malicious giggle:
“ Get into trouble! According to what I hear, you have been getting • into terrible trouble.”
“ According to Sindi gossip, that is to say. I wonder you believe gossip, Mrs. Little, whenTWO ENGAGEMENTS.
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you know so well, how cheaply it is manufactured.”
This was, what Hugh would have called, One for her.”
“ And then it’s not true that you and Captain Fitzroy don't get on—and are * separated ’ ? ”
“ I do not know by what right, you ask such a strange question. However, it is very good of you to be so interested in our private affairs, and I am sure you will be delighted to hear, that I believe I have the best, the bravest, most honourable, and the most loyal man in India, for my husband.”
“ Loyal! ” she echoed, in her shrillest key. ,Oh then, my poor, dear Mrs. Fitzroy, you evidently have not heard of Mrs. Horne .”
“Of whom?” I inquired, rather tartly.
“ Of Mrs. Horne.—She is making herself the talk of the place.”
“ It is so easy to do that,” I retorted contemptuously.
“Ah—yes. However, a word from me, you know, is kindly meant, and I do think it is a great mistake for a woman to leave her husband2IÓ
DIANA BARRINGTON
too long alone.—You have been away from Sindi for nearly a year, have you not? Well, my dearest Mrs. Fitzroy, it is quite time you went back.”
(It was plain that she was deliberately bent on exciting uneasiness.)
“ What do you mean ? ” I asked frigidly.
“ I mean that Captain Fitzroy has this cousin down there—Mrs. Horne—a little, lively, dark woman. You know, he always admired small women—for instance, you remember Mrs. Lawless? Well, she plays most beautifully, and I never went to her house that I did not find your husband there—with a violin—a violin is occasionally most convenient,” and she smiled expressively.
“ Hugh would go anywhere—I believe he would go out to a cholera camp—to get some one to play his accompaniments.”
“Ahem!—yes.—But he drives her out, and rides with her, when no fiddling is possible. Of course, there may be nothing in it.”
“You may make your mind perfectly at ease—on that score,” I answered impressively.TWO ENGAGEMENTS.
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“ I have the most implicit faith in my husband.”
“ Ah—well, indeed ! it's very good of you. I always said, you were more sinned against than sinning. Still, you know, they say that Mrs. Horne was an old flame of his, when he was in a regiment at home — he was desperately in love with her—but, of course, he could not marry her, as she had no money.55
Now I just pause here, to ask any young married lady, with a good-looking husband, how she would have liked all this information ?
Hugh was handsome, he rode and danced well, and played the violin admirably; he had no mauvaise honte, and the pleasantest voice I ever heard in a man. In short, he was the very beau ideal of a nice “ cavalier servente55 /or marauding matrons of attractive manners. Nevertheless, I showed a bold front to' my fierce, little assailant, and laughed at all her hints, smiled incredulously when she gave me affectionate advice—and routed her completely— so much so, that she presently retreated with2lS
DIANA BARRINGTON.
an unusually sour expression, into the privacy of her own quarters, leaving me, so to speak, the victor, and in possession of the field.
But alone, in my own room, and no longer carrying my head so high, or wearing a masked battery of smiles, I asked myself, was I the victor? Where had I found the joints of her invulnerable armour—and had she not given me a deadly wound? Yes!
I was weak still, mentally and physically, and I laid my head down upon my arms (after I had got rid of Peggy), and wept as bitter tears as I ever shed in all my life. Was this jealousy? It looked remarkably like it. Could / be jealous ? Evidently so, wildly and furiously jealous! In my mind’s eye, I saw Hugh and this creature, riding, and practising, and playing tennis together, and my whole soul was roused to arms in a manner that amazed me. The upshot of the matter was, that after telling myself one moment that “ I did not believe a word of it; ” at another, “ that Hugh was the last man in Sindi to get up a flirtation with any one; ” and at another, “ that perhaps sheTWO ENGAGEMENTS.
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WAS an old love ”—and I now remembered that a Mrs. Horne had sent him a remarkably handsome wedding present — before the end of a week, I despatched the following telegram :
“ To Captain Fitzroy, Sindi.
“ From Mrs. Fitzroy, Callian.
“ This place no longer suits me—come and fetch me.”CHAPTER XVII.
“THEY SAID THAT YOU WERE NEVER COMING BACK.”
“ And there’s a lust in man no charm can tame Of loudly publishing our neighbour’s shame ;
On eagle’s wings immortal scandals fly,
While virtuous actions are but born and die.”
Harvey.
Hugh arrived promptly, in answer to my telegram, and escorted me back to Sindi. I found the Bungalow in beautiful order—much the same as I had left it, and tastefully decorated with fresh flowers—possibly in honour of my return ? Billy had grown into a huge black monster, with pellucid green eyes, and supercilious manners, and had acquired an ineradicable habit, of occupying my chair at meals. The puppy, alas for our hopes!NEVER COMING BACK I
221
had developed into a large, awkward, yellow pie, good-humouredly submitting to be severely sat upon, and cuffed by his former little playmate, who led him a bond fide dog’s life !
I was glad to be back.—Yes, I felt happier, and more contented, than I had done for a long time, as I sat in the drawing-room, the morning after my arrival, surrounded with all my beloved household gods (they had been taken great care of, that was evident). As I sat thus, mentally reckoning up a certain set of much-prized cups and saucers, I saw a dark lady, on a gray pony, come trotting into the compound, and, stopping under the porch, she called out, in a shrill falsetto:
“ Hugh ! ”
This was very nice indeed ! and it was quite time that I came home.—Mrs. Little had been right for once.
I rose, and walked slowly into the verandah. On seeing me, she seemed rather surprised, and pleased, and said :
“ Oh, so you did come last evening! My dear, what a child you look ! ”
This was more than she did. She was forty222
DIANA BARRINGTON.
if an hour—and very dark and sallow. (Well^ there was some comfort in that!)
“Are you quite well now?”
“ Quite well, thank you ”—very frigidly.
“I am Hugh’s cousin, as perhaps you have guessed—Sophy Horne.”
“Yes — I have heard of you,” I answered stiffly, and after this, ensued an uncomfortable pause.
“ Do you ride ? ” she asked, stroking the pony’s mane.
“Yes, I am very fond of it.”
“ Oh, are you ? Then, now that you have arrived, I suppose Dobbin and I must part?”
“ Why ? What have I to say to your pony ? ” I asked, with raised brows.
“ He is not mine—he belongs to Hugh ; but I ride him every day.”
“ Oh, as far as I am concerned, you are welcome to him,” I said, with a smile. “ He is much too small, and too serious in his manners, to suit me”
“Indeed!” colouring. “Then I suppose you are a great horsewoman.”“NEVER COMING BACK:
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“ I have never considered the matter, but I can ride—a horse,” and I glanced at the pony with the utmost scorn.
“Oh! Well, I only came in to tell Hugh, that I have drawn him as my partner, in the big tennis tournament to-morrow. He and 1^ play together in the ladies’ and gentlemen’s doubles;—and I am so glad ! ”
(Of course she was. No need to tell me this.)
“It will be rather a good match. You must come down and look on.”
“ Thank you,” ironically.
“ Oh, Hugh, there you are,” she cried, as she saw him advancing behind me. “ You see, I have made your wife’s acquaintance ; she says I may keep Dobbin, as she does not care for ponies; and I looked in to tell you, that I have drawn you for the match to-morrow! ”
“I don't think I can play. I am on duty, and I don’t see how I can get off.”
“Oh, nonsense! Now don’t be disobliging, just because your wife has come to look after you. She won’t mind.”224
DIANA BARRINGTON
She said this in a way (so it seemed to my prejudiced mind) as if we might take it for a joke, or not—just as we pleased ! And with a nod to me, and a wave of her hand to Hugh, she cantered away.
“Odious woman!55 I exclaimed. “And she rides like a sack of potatoes ! ”
“ I see that you are not likely to be bosom friends/5 returned Hugh, with a short laugh. “And, indeed, Diana, I am sorry to find that you regard civility, as some do truth—too precious an article to be wasted/”
“I have heard of Mrs. Horne from Mrs. Little/5 I answered, rather sharply.
1 “ And I am sure that Mrs. Little had nothing but good to say of her,” he retorted sarcastically.
“ She did not say much—she only told me that, once upon a time, you were frantically in love with one another, when you were at home, and she was a girl.—That must have been many years ago ! ”
“Yes, when I was in socks, and short white frocks.. And what else, did Mrs. Little say?“NEVER COMING BACIN
225
After we were frantically in love with one another, was she good enough to mention, why we did not marry ? ”
“Yes, she told me that also—a most touching story! She said that you were too poor; poverty parted you, and that you could not marry any one but a girl with money.”
“ Such as yourself ? ” he asked, with stern bitterness.
“Yes,” I answered, without a blush.
After a long silence, he said :
“ Diana, it is not possible that you could be jealous of Sophy Horne ? ”
I laughed, a wild, hysterical laugh.
“Perhaps it was owing to Mrs. Little’s good-natured representations, that you changed your mind about Sindi ? ” he asked, in a curious tone.
“ Perhaps,” I echoed derisively.
“ Mrs. Little’s name ought to be—never mind —it would be too ridiculous, and too childish, if you were to be jealous of me”
“Yes, you are jealous enough for both of us,” I retorted quickly.
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DIANA BARRINGTON
“ When did you learn, to use your tongue with such satirical effect ? There," suddenly putting his hand on my shoulder, he said, “ don’t let us begin our new experiment with rows. I hate them ! Sophy is ten years older than I am. I have known her since I was an infant. She likes riding, and tennis, and going about; she has no ties at home. She has been very good to me—she knows nothing; and she wishes to be very good to you. But you met the unfortunate woman on the door-step, like a heroine, defending, your domestic hearth ! Poor Sophy ! how you did snub her. And, do you know, I believe she was here all day yesterday, putting the house to rights, and arranged every one of the flowers herself, and fixed up your room."
“ Did she ? " I exclaimed, much softened, appeased, and ashamed. “ I am very sorry—I was very rude to her—and, I am afraid, she will think l am a horrible, cross, disagreeable girl.”
There,, there, for mercy’s sake, don't. You can easily make it all right with Sophy. Here are Colonel and Mrs. Gimlette, and Peter ; and,, whatever you. do, don't let them find you in tears.”“NEVER COMING BACK”
227
Ada, of course, also came to see me, and brought her baby, and wept over me.
“Ob, dear! oh, dear! you are so changed!” she sobbed. “ You are worse than I expected.”
“ Oh, I am far better than I used to be, now that my hair has taken to curling,” I assured her consolingly.
“Diana, I am so glad you have come home, not only for my own sake, and for Captain Fitzroy's, but for other reasons.” She added mysteriously : “ People were hinting such things, and saying that you, and Hugh, had quarrelled, and that you were never coming back ! Wasn't it wicked of them? Of coufse, I always denied it, and said that I was your greatest friend, and that I ought to know, and that you and he had never had a word of difference in your lives.”
(Should I tell her, or should I not ? No.)
“We saw a good deal of him, of course. He often came, and had tea with me. Poor fellow! He missed his home, and you, most dreadfully!”
(Dear, little^ unsuspicious Ada !)
“ Then, when baby was born, he shunned the228
DIANA BARRINGTON
house, as if we had the black plague ; and when I showed baby to him, and asked if he was not the image of Dick, he roared, and said he would be sorry to pay Dick such a compliment. Wasn’t he rude ? Then, I said, I was surprised that a soldier like him, who had fought, and been commended in despatches, would run away from an infant. So he pretty well divided his spare time—his play time—between the Hornes and us. She is nice, Di—you will like her. She may be a little too fussy, and young in her ways ; but, poor woman, she has no children,” added Ada compassionately. u And she plays divinely. Even Mrs. Little allowed that”
Thus Ada chattered on, and I listened, in unusual silence. She little guessed, how nearly the announcement, that “ I was never coming back,” had been fulfilled.CHAPTER XVIII.
MARCHE FUNÈBRE.
“ À death-bed’s a detector of the heart.”
Young.
Although I had returned home, and resumed the keys of office, I was still to a certain extent an invalid : I could not play tennis, I could not ride, and was obliged to content myself with merely looking at Cassim, and seeing him exercised by Hugh. I pottered about, among my plants, and poultry, followed by the pup and Billy—the latter evincing an affectionate interest in promising clutches — which interest, he subsequently justified, by devouring quite a holocaust of young chickens. I was no longer, quite such a gaunt and ghastly230
DIANA BARRINGTON.
object, as I had been of late—my short locks developed a tendency to curl—my cheek-bones were not so painfully prominent, nor my dresses such grotesque misfits—still I was so altered in appearance, by my illness, that many former acquaintances, failed to recognise me, and passed me with a vacant stare.
Ada's prediction was fulfilled, and I liked my newly discovered cousin, Sophy Horne—-liked her very much. Her husband was frequently “on tour/’ mine was but little at home, and we spent a great deal of our time in each other's company — to our mutual satisfaction. Our ages might have easily been reversed— surely I was forty, and she was twenty!— so staid and grave was I—so gay, loquacious, and energetic, was she. Sophy declared that I wanted rousing, and she set herself to the task of arousing me, with her usual vigorous spirits. She taught me fancy work, told me amusing stories, hustled me, if I may use the expression, and, above all, played to me—she played magnificently, not only with the highest proficiency, but the most sympathetic expression, andMARCHE FUNÈBRE.	231
lier music, like David's harp, seemed to exorcise the spirits of melancholy, and apathy, that had taken up their abode with me. My hardest task at this period, was to endeavour to com ceal from all the world, the wide, impassable gulf lay between Hugh and me. Hugh was very kind, thoughtful, and almost too polite ; no one could have suspected anything from liim. No one would have suspected our dismal meals—our forced conversation—our tacit avoidance of the past—our long séances of sad, suggestive silence. No one, perhaps, but Sophy! I often wondered if Sophy had not some glimmering of the truth ? Sophy was a sort of person that seemed to have eyes all round her head.
Since old Mrs. Fitzroy's death, our income had been agreeably increased, and in a moderate way, ‘‘expense was no object!” Consequently, Hugh presented me with a very smart victoria, and a pair of stepping cobs—as he said that “ the -cart was not suitable for an invalid;" but this I looked upon as a shallow excuse, and232
D/ANA BARRINGTON.
merely a civil way of getting out of driving me—for, of course, I was now obliged to have the usual dashing, and emblazoned coachman. Sophy or Ada, were generally my companions of an afternoon—when Hugh went to polo, or racquets. One evening, about a month after my return, I was seated alone in my carriage at the band, for Sophy had descended at my request, to take a turn with Peter. A sudden veer of fashion’s weathercock, had elevated the Temple Gardens into an eagerly-sought, gay resort There, peeping above the orange-trees, was the little white Pagoda, where I had held that stolen, and, to me, disastrous interview. As my thoughts still dwelt on that moonlight night, almost a year ago, my heart gave a feeble little leap, for at that moment Mrs. Vavasour herself went by, driving a pair of superb chestnut horses. She glanced at me carelessly, then looked again; presently she turned and passed me at a walk, finally she drew up and said :
“ Surely, Diana, it is not you ?39
“ Yes/9 I replied tremulously.
Without another word she beckoned to her233
MARCHE FUNEBRE.
syces, and got out, and came hastily towards me. She looked very pale and agitated, and said, as she gazed up into my face :
“Tell me what has happened, my poor child!" .
“ I have been very ill,” I murmured.
“ I never heard of it! But we only returned last week. And," laying her hand on my black dress, “ are you in morning still for your mother-in-law ?"
“No,” I replied, striving to speak with composure. “ For my—baby."
“ Good gracious, Diana ! your baby ? ” Then> after a pause, she added:	“ How old was
it ? ”
“ Six weeks and two days.”
“ Oh "—another pause—“ well, I really think people in the army are far better without children. Fancy my being a grandmother—what a hideous idea!" and she gave a little shudder. “ I cannot pretend to be sorry for it, Diana, but I am really very sorry for you■—I am indeed. They say that I have no heart, dear," laying her hand in mine, and gazing at me steadfastly,234
DIANA BARRINGTON.
as she spoke. “ But I must have a bit of one, for I feel such a queer tightness in my throat, when I look at your thin, white face, and sunken eyes. The ties of blood are real after all. What caused your illness ?
“ It was brain-fever—I got it—after the— the letter—you wrote/’ I answered, in a choked voice.
“Letter ! what letter ? Ah, I recollect— now! I have a miserable memory. You are so excitable. You take things too much to heart. There was a fuss about the necklace— yes.”
“Fuss!” I echoed hysterically. “ A fuss that nearly, killed me ; a fuss that has alienated my husband for ever. I wish the diamonds had been at the bottom of the sea ! I wish I had never been born ! I wish-------”
“ Come, come, Diana! You should not say that to me,” she interrupted sharply. “I’m afraid Julian Hassard, muddled that business of the necklace! However, I shall release you from keeping my secret very shortly. I promise— honour bright.”MARCHE FUNÈBRE.
235
“ How soon ? When ? ” I asked breathlessly.
“ Perhaps in another year—or two.”
“ Year—year or two ! It must be days,” I cried, with sudden passion. “ Now you are within reach, mother, I shall give you no peace till you give me back my peace.”
“ Hush ! hush ! Here are some people coming, and I must go.—I’ll write to you.—I will, indeed.”
“ Oh, mother ! If you knew what your secret has cost me; if you knew how miserable I am, you would have pity on me,” holding her hand very tight, and speaking with intense excitement.
“ Diana ” (struggling), “ let me go —I must really go—Pll think of it,” and, snatching her fingers from my detaining clasp, she walked away ; and in another moment, Peter and Sophy Horne came up, with beaming faces.
“There goes Mrs. Vavasour, out-and-out the prettiest woman in Sindi,” said Peter, as she dashed past. Yes, she looked as young and as pretty as ever—and a grandmother—impossible !236
DIANA BARRINGTON.
“ Those are her new horses,” he continued —“ a spanking pair ; but she is not much of a whip — nearly as bad as you are,” turning his little twinkling eyes on me.
I held my handkerchief before my lips, and made a great struggle for composure, but Sophy answered :
“ What gratuitous impertinence ! That is no way to speak to your Captain's wife. He is dining with you this evening, Diana—give him bread-an d-water.”
“Anything,’5 he returned promptly — “even haggis—-as long as I dine with you”
“ Don't be late/' I said, with an effort; “ and tell Hugh—you will see him at the Club —we dine at eight to-night."
“ There is a big billiard tournament on this evening," said Peter, “ so do not wait for me. If the worst comes to the worst, I'll come in appropriately with the sweets. But I’ll give your message to Hugh— Mrs. Fitz — and send him home in good time." And mounting his pony, and lifting his cap, Peter—the irrepressible—cantered away.MARCHE FUNÈBRE.
23 7
After his departure, Sophy and I went for what is called a <c little turn,” and on our way homeward, I noticed a crowd of people running down a by-road,; but we were going so fast ourselves, it was not worth while to pull up, and satisfy our curiosity. Sophy was dining with us,	and she	and	I waited a long, long
time for	dinner,	with	more	or less	patience.
At last, when it was nearly nine o’clock, Peggy came in with wrath in her eye.
“ Miss Diana,	why	don’t	you go	to your
dinner ?	Are not	ye starved	with the	hunger ?
What’s the good of me being so earnest about feeding you up—with broth and nourishment— when ye sit and fast, an hour after your males, with a face on you, as long as a happorth of bacon! ”
“ We are waiting for Captain Fitzroy and Mr. Hare,” explained Sophy. “ They are looking on at a billiard-match.”
fi Oh—and sure, don’t ye know them, when they get together? Divil a toe, they’ll put inside the place this hour,” she muttered to herself. Then, in a louder key : “ Never mind238
DIANA BARRINGTON.
waiting on the likes of them; but go in and take your soup, it is getting stone cold.”
Thus commanded^ Sophy and I obediently followed her advice — and had scarcely seated ourselves at table—when Peter walked in, rather breathlessly.
“Don't be frightened/' he said, “but Hugh has had a fall—and hurt himself a little; his arm is tied up—but it's nothing much—he made me come in first-----"
“Oh, Peter!" I exclaimed, jumping up, “where is he ?"
“ He’s all right," he replied, following me into the drawing - room; and there I saw Hugh, getting out of the cart, and felt greatly relieved.
“ Are you hurt ? ” I asked, running out.
“No—a slight sprain, and a few cuts/' he replied, with rather chilling unconcern.
But why was Peter frowning at Sophy ? And why did Hugh stand in the verandah, as if reluctant to come in? When he did enter, I saw that one hand was done up in bandages, his arm was in a sling, and his face lookedMARCHE FUNÈBRE„	239
curiously white, and when he turned, I noticed a large piece of lint, and plaster, on the back of his head.
“ Come/'’ he said cheerfully ;	“ you * are a
nice soldier’s wife, to turn pale at a bit of sticking-plaster ; ” and then he sat down, rather suddenly, and said : “ Peter, fetch me a whisky and soda.”
Peter and Sophy went out into the diningroom, and I saw them with their heads together, whispering at the sideboard.
“ I know you are badly hurt, ” I said, lookiiig anxiously at Hugh. “ I am sure of it.”
“ I am not— Do you think I could drive home if I were?” he answered, rather sharply.
“Were you thrown out of the cart? How did it happen ? ”
“ I fell over the bridge, near the racquet court.”
“Over that!” I echoed. “ What an awful place ! I wonder you were not killed. How did you fall over it ? ”
“ I—I----” (Hugh was not good at pre-
varicating.) “ Well, I could not well help myself. I went over the parapet—it’s not as240
DIANA BARRINGTON.
bad as it looks. Ah ! here is the whisky and soda. Now, Peter,” he said, when he had swallowed it, i( take me away and dress me for dinner.”
So Peter and he went off accordingly, and in a very short time, we were all seated at table. Every one talked a good deal, during dinner. Peter and Sophy were especially vivacious, but I noticed that Hugh avoided all allusion to his accident, save to “ pooh, pooh ” it, and that he scarcely touched a morsel, and now and then it seemed to me, that all three looked unusually grave. What were they keeping from me? I felt that something was impending, and had been in unaccountably low spirits, ever since the band at the Temple Gardens had concluded its programme, with Chopin’s weird, and melancholy, “ Marche Funebre.”
When dinner was concluded, we returned to the drawing-room en masse. Peter reclined beside me on the sofa, and dressed up Billy in my best chair-back. Hugh went out, and sat in the verandah—he frequently did this when we were alone — but why to-night? Sophy natu-MARCHE FUNÈBRE.
241
rally gravitated to the piano, where her fingers wandered dreamily up and down the keys, and then apparently recalling the evening's programme, she struck up the funeral march, interpreting it superbly, with its tramp of many feet—as the procession moves solemnly on—then the one voice, that seems to take up the tale of sorrow, and speak of passionate, undying remembrance—of a love, that will live beyond the grave, of a hope of a future meeting in that far off, undiscovered country. As the last notes died away in a kind of sob, I saw a brougham drive under the porch, which I recognised at once as Mrs. Vavasour's, for ,1 knew the coachman's face. He handed a note to Hugh—yes, to Hugh—and he tore it open, and readmit by the lamp which hung in the verandah. When he came into the room, with this note in his hand, his face was graver than ever, and he looked at no one, but me.
cc Diana," he said huskily, “ Mrs. Vavasour ”— (we had not uttered her name for many months) —“ has sent for you—and me. She met Avith a carriage accident this evening."
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DIANA BARRINGTON.
I rose from my seat as he spoke.
<e Her horses took fright at the steam-roller, and bolted across the parade ground. I ran and tried to head them at the bridge, but they had too much pace on, and went clean over the low parapet.”
“ Is—is—she much hurt ?” I asked, in a voice that sounded a long way off.
“Yes—I believe she is.”
“Is she going to die?" I gasped out.
“ I am afraid so,” he returned very gravely. I uttered a stifled cry, but I did not speak, I only stood looking at Hugh, and trembling excessively.
“ She has sent for you,” he continued ; “ she wishes to see you and me. But, Diana, you are not jit to go—I shall go in your place.”
“ In my place ! no. Oh, Hugh, I—I must go—Hugh,” I reiterated, with sudden passion. “I must go—must go, if it were to cost me my ¿life. Do not lose the priceless moments —let us go now,” and I rushed out into the verandah, just as I was, in my evening dress, and [got into the brougham before any oneMARCHE FUNEBRE.
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could interfere. Hugh followed me almost immediately, then Sophy tossed a wrap in through the window, and Peter shouted to the coachman, “Go on, drive fast, shove 'em along." In a wonderfully short time, we were at our destination. The great white house was all lit up as usual, but so silent; voices and steps were alike hushed, and already it seemed to be the abode of death. In the lofty entrance-hall, two doctors were standing and conversing together in whispers, they appeared to be surprised to see me; and then Coxon came down to look for us, and she explained to me, as we went upstairs .. side by side, that her poor mistress could not hold those horses at the best of times, and that at the sight of the engine of the steam-roller, they made off like mad things.
“ It was a most shocking runaway; it was a wonder that Captain Fitzroy was not killed, ma’am. He did all he could to stop the horses ; but what was one man—and them going so fast? He fell over the bridge, too, and was taken up bleeding and insensible. At first we thought he
r 2244
DIANA BARDINO TON.
was the worst. They took him off to the hospital close by, and when he came round he would go home, in spite of every one. I see he is better ”—glancing back at Hugh, who had stopped for a moment to speak to the doctors.
“Yes/* I said; “but I am sure he is more hurt than he will allow. And Mrs. Vavasour ?”
“ Ah, my poor lady ! the carriage fell across her back. She is in no pain to speak of, but she has only * a few hours to live. Her spine is fractured.”
At this moment a door in the corridor opened, and Mr, Vavasour looked out anxiously. I saw by his face that he was expecting me, and knew, why I had been summoned. However,, he did not address me, but -Hugh, who had now joined us, and said :
“ Fitzroy, I am thankful to see that you have escaped so well. I shall never forget what you did to-day. I am a man of few words—but— but—of this another time. She wishes your old Irish nurse to be with her—and—she would like
you to stay with me — till — till----” and he
almost broke down altogether.MARCHE FUNEBRE.	245
While he spoke to Hugh, he had more than once looked very hard at me — looked at me with an odd, half-incredulous expression. Poor man! no doubt he saw the likeness now.
“ You and your wife are to see her alone/’ he continued, opening the door. “ Don’t stay long. Don’t stay more than five minutes/’ he whispered eagerly.
I advanced into the room, with a beating heart, but no tragic sight awaited me. She lay on a sofa, wrapped in a white dressing-gown, with a shawl thrown over her. Her face looked pale and worn, but her eyes were' brighter than ever.
“ So you have come at last! ” she said, in a weak voice. “ Don’t cry, Diana—you have shed enough tears for me. Until to-day I little guessed how sorely the secret pressed on you. If I had known—I would have told him. Have you heard that, a few hours ago, he risked his life to save mine ? If he had been killed—if it had been him instead of ME, Diana ? ” and she gazed at me curiously.
“ God is just ! ” I answered passionately-DIANA BARRINGTON.
246
“ He could not take my husband until I had been cleared.”
She turned her head slowly, and looked at Hugh, and said :
“ Captain Fitzroy, can you not guess our secret ? ” taking my hand in hers, as she spoke.
But Hugh was dumb. How could he guess the truth ? He merely stood looking down at her with his searching, dark - blue eyes, ., and shook his head in hopeless ignorance.
“ She—is my daughter,” she whispered, in a voice that was scarcely audible.
After this amazing announcement, there was a dead, expressive silence, and I distinctly remember listening—as it were against my will —to the busy ticking of a little clock.
“ I was Mrs. Barrington twenty years ago,” she went on—“ Diana will tell you all. Her father took her far away from the wicked world, and far away from me. I recognised her, last year, by the diamond necklace, and, being in desperate straits, I told her who I was, and made her swear to keep the secret. The money she received for her diamonds, went toMARCHE FUNÈBRE.
247
me—she pawned the necklace for my dire necessities.—Julian Hassard is my cousin — he alone recognised me, and knew our secret; and he was the only person, whom I could trust to raise the money.”
Then she paused for a second—and then went on with increased rapidity :
“ I have been spoiled all my life. I have been, God knows, a miserable, selfish, heartless woman ; I have been accustomed to see people niake sacrifices for me, and that Diana should pledge her diamonds to pay my debts did not strike me as any very wonderful, out-of-the-way deed. From my cradle, others have yielded to me, because of my pretty face; I came to look upon it quite as a matter of course.—It seems only the other day, when they took away Annie's new hat and gave it to me—because I looked so, sweet in it; that was the beginning of my life—■ and here is the end.”
She paused exhausted, and signed to Hugh to give her a glass containing some restorative.
“ Why did you never answer her letter ?" he asked, as he received the empty glass.248
DIANA BARRINGTON.
“ Because I could not read half of it, for one thing; and for another, it struck me as being the mere excited, exaggerated note of a girl who had had a little quarrel with her husband.—She has suffered much — I have been very cruel to her, and I am sorry. I can never repair my fault—I wish I could. Be doubly good to her, for my sake”
And she raised her hand with an effort.
Hugh took it in his, and said :
“ I will be doubly good to her, for her own.”
“ Diana,” she said, looking at me, “no need to warn you, against my faults. You married for love, and are of a nature, that abhors a change—your father was the same !—they call it constancy. Take this ring off my finger, and wear it sometimes—think of me as kindly as you can—and now stoop down and kiss me.” I did as she desired, my hot tears falling on her cold, and death-like face. “Now”—and she glanced significantly at Hugh—“take her away —take her home, and remember your promise.” “Mother”—I said, throwing myself on myMARCHE FUNÈBRE.
249
knees beside her—“do not send me away—from you, as if I were a stranger ; let me stay with you, and pray with you—who is so fit to be with you, as your only child ?”
“No, no,” she returned impatiently, and again she looked at Hugh. “Go, now, Diana —you shall come to-morrow morning—a sickroom, is no place for you—go—I wish you to go.”
I had no alternative, I dared not urge her further, so I rose, and kissed her, and went— blinded by my tears. As I reached the door, she said in a faint voice:
“Turn back, Diana—that I may look once more on my youth—and you l There:—that will do,” waving her hand feebly. “ Good-bye—goodbye/’
,	“ Good - bye, mother,” I sobbed — making a
vain effort to reftiain—but Hugh was inflexible, and led me quickly out of the room, and closed the door behind us. There we stood on the landing, for an instant, and gazed at one another, in dead silence. Twice Hugh tried to speak, but emotion choked his utterance. His250
DIANA BARRINGTON.
face was deathly pale —whiter now, than hers whom we had just left—the beads of moisture stood upon his forehead.
“And that was the secret,” he said at last* in a husky voice.
“Yes,” I answered tremulously. “And, oh, Hugh, pardon me now ! ”
“ God knows it is for you to pardon me,” he answered, with emotion. “ I might have doubted my own senses—before I doubted you. Can you ever forgive me, Diana ? ” He came nearer, as he spoke, and laid his bandaged hand timidly on mine. “ Can you ? ” he repeated.
The corridor seemed suddenly to expand, and contract, Mr. Vavasour and Coxon, appeared to go whirling round; I staggered forward, and fell into his arms, in a dead faint. I remember nothing more till I found myself in the brougham —en roitte home. Even when I recovered consciousness, I was still in a dazed condition. A lamp we flashed past, showed Hugh’s anxious face bent over mine. His arm was round my waist, my head leant on his shoulder. What had happened ? What did it all mean ? AndMARCHE FUNÈBRE.
251
then he stooped and kissed me, and I remembered—everything. The black cloud, that had fallen on our lives, had been lifted at last.
We found Sophy, Peter, and Peggy anxiously awaiting us; and I was handed over at once to Sophy, whilst Peggy took my place in the carriage; and she and Hugh went back to Mrs. Vavasour’s, without a moment’s delay. Sophy put me to bed, with many soothing promises that I should be allowed to go and see Mrs. Vavasour “ first thing in the morning; ” and she gave me something, in some mulled claret, that made me sleep soundly—of this I am certain. I am also certain that Hugh had whispered to her —a word of the truth.
It was quite late the next morning, when I awoke. I threw on a dressing-gown, and looked into the dining-room. Peggy was seated at the table, covered with flowers. She was making a great, white wreath.
No need to tell me, that it was for the dead. Peggy looked up, and said :
“Yes, my darling girl—she is gone. May God rest her soul. She passed away as if she252
DIANA BARRINGTON
were going to sleep. I closed his eyes, and I closed hers.”
“ And—where is Hugh ? ”
“He is just wore out—he is asleep, I hope ; he was there all night — and Mr. Vavasour— quite broken down—and leaning on him, as if he was a son. I always thought Mr. Vavasour was a hard man, with no great feeling — and he is just heart-broken — although he knows everything. ’Tis a way she had with them all. Well, I hope she's at peace now. She made a great stir in her life-time ! ”
“ Peggy/’ I sobbed, “ how—how can you talk in this unfeeling way! ”
“ Now, now—don’t take on. Every cripple has his own way of walking ! I don;t mean all I say, no more than you do, me darlin’; and don’t you fret—and lay yourself up. Faix, I expect you will find some nursing to do on the Captain—his shoulder was put out, and one of his fingers is broke, and there’s a terrible cut on the back of his head, forby bruises, and scratches — but he faces us all down, that there’s not a hate ails him—for fear YOU might beMARCHE FUNÈBRE.
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unaisy. Oh, murder ! When I think of the place he went over—I wonder he wasn’t—killed dead.”
Inhabitants of Sindi, were like the Chinese— not easily surprised — but I think they were faintly astonished, to see Hugh walking beside Mr. Vavasour at the funeral, which took place that evening. Only a few people, ever knew the real reason, of this proceeding—Peter, Sophy, and the Maynes. I told the whole story to Ada, from first to last, and she has not got over her amazement yet.
One of the most conspicuous objects, in the cemetery at Sindi, is a sculptured monument of white Italian marble, on which reposes a beautiful recumbent figure. Beneath this angelic form is inscribed in unusually large letters:
“ Erected by her bereaved husband, to the belo.ved memory of Marion Vavasour, who was killed by a carriage accident, November the third, Eighteen hundred and eighty-three.
Ci God be merciful to me a sinner ”
N.B.—Mrs. Vavasours friends, are still lost in conjecture !CHAPTER XIX.
SUNSHINE.
iC So we’ll live,
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales”
King Lean.
About four months after Mrs. Vavasour’s death, Hugh, and I, went up to Gurrumpore, to be present at Carrie’s wedding. We were not the only guests from Sindi—Peter Hare, Colonel and Mrs. Gimlette, were also bidden to the marriage feast. As for our Colonel’s lady— that prompt, and clever woman had seized the opportunity, when Mr. Kirke was spending a week with us, to work upon his feelings— upon his newly-awakened sense of domestic requirements—and before I could come to his rescue, she had sold him a piano, eight table-SUNSHINE.
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cloths, and a silver teapot; To our old friend Mrs. Raitt she forwarded, per rail, carriage paid, what she considered “absolute necessities,” in the shape of two nearly new portmanteaux, some white and silver ornaments, for the cake, three dozen wedding favours (scarcely worn), and a casé of dubious, and unbranded champagne. How came Mrs. Gimlette, to have such an inexhaustible supply of articles on sale ? This was a question, that puzzled all but her most intimate associates. She was constantly going home ” — and selling off — never departing after all—and, owing to some unforeseen occurrence (and then she had her delightful excitement of once more “setting up”). Moreover, she was frequently moving from house to house, and revelled in the disposal of “ fixtures.” She was continually buying wonderful bargains ; lovely Japanese and Indian curiosities from hawkers; bartering jewellery, and plate, and even clothes, for lacquer, bronze, and egg-shell china ; getting tired of them in a month's time, and selling them again, in her turn, to the most timid and weak-minded of her neighbours.256
DIANA BARRINGTON.
Moreover, she was ever ready—nay, eager—to oblige her friends, and dispose of a trousseau, a layette, or widow’s weeds, at a moment’s notice. The happiest hours of her life were undoubtedly spent at sales and bazaars ; and as to her own, not infrequent auctions, they were the white stones of her existence! What preparatory polishing, painting, recovering of chairs, and repairing of china ; what triumphant realisations ; what doubling of outlay ; what loud boasting to those unfortunates, who had figuratively “ given their things away ! ”
But to return to Gurrumpore, after this long digression. Dear, hot, little Gurrumpore welcomed us all most heartily, as old and popular residents, and was almost unchanged, since the day I had descended upon it—now more than two years previously. Loo Lawless, had also arrived on the scene, and had imported her husband to the wedding festivities, from the miseries of Sodabee. He was a depressed-looking man, with a small head, singularly large ears, and a stoop—who rarely spoke, and never offered ah opinion—even on the weather; but his wifeSUNSHINE.
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appealed to him incessantly, and generally made an ostentatious parade of her affection for her “darling Freddy,” though occasionally she forgot her part, and snubbed him severely. Privately, I am convinced that the poor man was mercilessly bullied, and suffered many things of his pretty little wife. Once, and only once, I had an involuntary peep behind the scenes. One morning, I entered the drawing-room unexpectedly — an Indian drawing-room rarely boasts of closed doors, and discreetly rattled handles are unknown precautions.
Loo was standing with her back to me, with an open letter in her hand. She was speaking very angrily to her husband, and I distinctly heard her say, “ You brute ! ” Yes—quite distinctly.
Something in his expression, possibly, warned her that they were not alone, for she instantly changed her key, and said, in her most dulcet tones:
“Now, Freddy darling, dorlt be tiresome! You know it must be done. I am giving my husband a lecture on extravagance,” she explained to me, with her usual sang-froid.
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DIANA BARRINGTON.
‘ He lavishes his money, as if we were Rothschilds, and he knows, we are paupers.”
“ But, indeed, Loo, after all the kindness you have received from the Raitts, you should give Carrie a handsome present. I sent you three hundred rupees, and you would not spend it, so I was obliged to get something myself; and I do not think, it is at all too much.”
I believe my presence, gave the miserable man courage, for he spoke with unusual boldness :
“ What do you think of a pair of plated dishes ? ” he asked, appealing to me.
“ She knows nothing of our private affairs, Freddy, or of what we can afford,” broke in Loo sharply. “And / say, that a pair of handsome silver dishes, would be ridiculous. Mr# Kirke could buy and sell you—the other thing, is quite as much SHOW; so make your mind easy,' and go away, now, before post, and counter-order the dishes, like a good, sensible boy.”
Thus rebuked, and exhorted, this unfortunate, down-trodden worm departed obediently, without venturing on any further remonstrance.SUNSHINE.
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“ That’s the way to manage a husband/’ said “ unlimited Loo/’ triumphantly. “You make a great mistake, in allowing your husband to see that you care for him! it’s a fatal error, as you will discover by-and-by. Ah, you may laugh, but he won’t always be as devoted to you as he is now—unless you take a leaf out of my book. Look at Fred,” she continued with calm complacency, “ he is always so grateful for a word, or a smile, and when I let him take me out, he is so proud—he goes up to every one and says:	€ I’m going to
drive my wife this evening.’ Believe me, that’s the way to manage them ! ”
“ I don’t think a woman ought to manage her husband, as you call it,” I returned very coldly.
“ No ? It’s the other way about in your case, dearest.” And she smiled expressively. “ Fred —silly fellow !—is always raving about you and Hugh — such a good-looking couple — such a happy pair — such a delightful acquisition! If there is .one thing that I loathe, more than another, it is listening to the praises of other people! ”2ÓO
DIANA BARRINGTON.
“ That I can easily understand/' I briskly replied.
“Fred little knows how you kicked over the traces last year at Sindi—and I have been too good-natured to spoil his illusions,” she continued in a sharper key. “ Oh, pray don't look so virtuously indignant! Why, I saw you myself—at your Regimental Ball! Colonel Hassard's speciality, was always tall, fair - haired, young women, and he plays the sympathetic and confidential role to perfection, and generally succeeds in making his victim believe that she is an unappreciated, domestic angel. However, you have had a lesson ; and I fancy that Hugh Fitzroy, for all his merry eyes, has a strong hand on the reins.”
Loo talked on so rapidly, and so incessantly, that she never gave me time, to get in one word, as I stood gazing* at her in a dignified manner; but for all my dignity my heart was hot within me, and I do not know how our interview would have terminated, had we not been interrupted and put to flight by the entrance of Carrie and her betrothed.-—Mr.SUNSHINE.
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Kirke was palpably alarmed, and unhinged, at the prospect of being one of the principals at a large and fashionable wedding, and any stranger would have supposed from his manner, and his abject misery, that he was awaiting capital punishment! Of course, in Carrie’s exclusive company, he bore up and Was tolerably cheerful; but in general society, and under the influence of congratulations— presents, and chaff—and surrounded with busy preparations for the eventful day, his melancholy countenance and dejected demeanour caused Peter and Hugh the most exquisite delight. I almost think, that but for Hugh, he would have run away ! At least, so Hugh had the audacity to hint to Carrie, and it was actually from the gloomy sketches of his own sad experience, that my husband drew consolation for Mr. Kirke!
u No matter what happens, you never can have such an awful affair as ours,” I heard him remark over a confidential cigar, one evening before the wedding.
“ We were married in Bombay, you know—■2Ó2
DIANA BARRINGTON.
a very quiet wedding — Colonel Raitt gave Ranee away, Peter did the same kind office for me. My wife was in deep mourning, and cried uninterruptedly from ‘ dearly beloved * to ‘amazement’; her responses were taken for granted. After this cheerful ceremony, we went straight on board the steamer—no breakfast— no cake, no champagne. She descended to her cabin, and I never saw her again till we were in the canal.”
“ Meanwhile I believe you consoled yourself, by flirting with a pretty little, golden-haired, grass widow,” I supplemented impressively.
“ Only because she reminded me of you retorted Hugh. “ Shall I tell Kirke a few of your escapades ? How you disgraced me by signing your name as Miss Barrington to all your ‘ chits ! ’ How you dropped your wedding-ring behind a wash-stand, and it was never seen again, and you had to borrow Peggy's. How------”
“ No—no—let bygones be bygones. You were ten times better off than I was—indeed, I believe you enjoyed yourself most heartily, whilst / was sea-sick.”SUNSHINE.
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All the morning of the wedding day I was extremely busy, decorating the breakfast-table, and cake, and laying out the presents—my own included. (Hugh/s could not be paraded, as it was a very handsome horse.) Mrs. Raitt was inclined to melt into tears, on the slightest encouragement, so I was obliged to treat her with stony indifference ; and poor Carrie, was unexpectedly nervous and frightened. I dressed myself quickly, then dressed her, as her mother was incapable of doing anything, and Loo Lawless’s whole energies were, of course, concentrated on the adornment of her own little person.—Exceedingly well she looked, a vision of cream brocade, and old rose point, as she joined us, shortly before setting out for church—and exceedingly surprising was her solemn admonition to the pale and agitated bride.
“ Carrie, dearest, I am making a great sacrifice for you.—I never go to church to witness a wedding, for it makes me feel quite faint, to hear girls taking the most awful vows on themselves, in a careless and flippant manner—vows, that in ten cases out of twenty, they cast to the264
DIANA BARRINGTON.
four winds. Dear Carrie! I need not ask you to seriously reflect on your position to-day, and to consider the sacred ceremony, and the important step you are afyout to take. It is a blessed thing, as / know, to devote a life, to one man’s happiness.” And here, Loo went through the ridiculous farce of wiping her eyes, with a tiny gossamer handkerchief.
This extraordinary harangue, was possibly got up for the benefit of those of the assembled family, who believed implicitly in the pretty little impostor! Peter relieved his feelings by rushing out into the verandah, throwing himself on a sofa, and stuffing his handkerchief into his mouth ; and Hugh muttered 16 me in an undertone:
“The Devil quoting Scripture is nothing to Loo Lawless, preaching the duties of a wife ! Look at that unfortunate beggar, Freddy; if I were in his place Fd go out and hang myself, on the nearest tree.”
“ But as you are not in his place,” I retorted, “you may as well be starting us all for church; and you had better look after Mr. Kirke, and take care that he is there! ”SUNSHINE.
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Fortunately, my fears proved to be entirely groundless. Mr. Kirke—with the air of a martyr at the stake—was patiently awaiting his bride. Thè church was crowded with a large and fashionable congregation—vide The Gurrumpore Gazette—and after the ceremony we adjourned to . a déjeuner, where cake, champagne (not Mrs. Gimlette’s), and speeches, weçe the order of the day.
Mr. Kirke returned thanks for his wife, in a few manly, and well-chosen words. I again quote from The Gurrumpore Gazette. These “ few manly, and well-chosen words ” were dictated by Hugh, and traced upon his shirt-cuff, by the trembling bridegroom. Colonel Raitt made a long, maundering oration, in which there was a great deal about elephant, bison, and tiger, and a mere passing allusion to the bride, his daughter. Hugh, in lieu of Peter— who declared, with unexpected modesty, that he could neither speak in public, or in private—. got up, precisely as if he were a bachelor, and proposed the health of the bridesmaids, in a capital speech, which was received with uproarious enthusiasm, and shouts of laughter ; and
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DIANA BARRINGTON.
soon after this, the happy couple —1 and they really did look very happy—took their departure amid the usual shower of rice, rose-leaves, and slippers.
The remainder of the afternoon fell flat, the inevitable consequence of a wedding. However, we had a grand ball at the Club, where I nearly danced the soles off my shoes, and “held the floor,” as Peggy would have called it, until the “crow's dawn."
After a short stay at Gurrumpore, Hugh and I, started on a pilgrimage to the old Bungalow at Paldi; it was still kept up, for the benefit of the Padre on tour—for ancient retainers, and pensioned animals, and also as a kind of depot, from which father’s charities wer„e punctually disbursed. I was delighted to be back, in the Jungle, once more; to be surrounded by faces familiar from childhood — whether Brahmin, Gond, or Pathan—to see the herds of black buck and gazelle—and the tamer droves of little white bullocks trotting merrily along, to the sound of their bells. I liked to hear the notes of the birds, the chirrup of[SUNSHINE.	267
'squirrels, and even the screech of the green parrots in the banyan-trees, and to listen to the soothing- sound of rippling waters, as they flowed over the rocky bed, of the now abated, and shallow, Karrhan.
My Jungle friends welcomed me warmly, and gave me an overwhelming ovation. The day after our arrival, my neck was almost bent beneath wreaths of white blossoms—our verandah was impassable with offerings of fruit and flowers; dozens of gilded limes (gilded limes are the highest compliment) were presented to us, and the Malgoozars of neighbouring villages combined to erect huge bonfires on the banks of the river, and the Karrhan itself, was brilliantly illuminated, with a fleet of hundreds of floating lamps.
Hugh soon won golden opinions, by stalking and shooting a notorious panther, that was carrying grief and terror into the hearts of the populace. It lived* in a stony hill, between two large villages, and preyed exclusively on children.
Naturally the neighbourhood was very anxious, that we should remain altogether at Paldi, and268	'DIANA BARRINGTON.
that Hugh should assume father’s mantle, and title of “the Tiger Lord”—but this arrangement was out of the question.
After a months delightful holiday, spent in boating, fishing, riding, and shooting, we were obliged to turn our faces once more towards Sindi, military duty, and station society. We left Paldi with regret—indeed, I quitted it with bitter tears—and returned to our little circle* loaded with the skins, and horns, of wild animals* and the good wishes of numbers of old friends.
The diamonds were never redeemed! Hugh arranged the affair this time, and I accepted seven thousand pounds, and let them go. Coo-poodoo was highly pleased with the transaction— so was I. He broke up the necklace, as he had predicted, and the stones are scattered far and wide. It is said, that that ill-omened gem—the “ Evil Eye ”—is now the chief ornament in a Royal crown. May it bring the wearer nothing but good fortune!
THE END.
CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS, CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS.