“Moths round a candle,” said the doctor. “There, don’t worry yourself, my dear, it’s only her way. She loves admiration, and young fellows admire her, so it suits both sides.”
“But I don’t like a young lady who is under our charge to be so fond of admiration.”
“Oh, there’s no harm in her. She is one of those ladies who seem to have been born to exact attention; and as there are plenty ready to pay toll, why, what does it matter?”
“It matters a great deal,” said the little lady, indignantly; “and no good will come of it. One day she is trying to lead Mr. Harley at her heels like a lapdog; the next day it is Captain Lindley; the next, Mr. Adjutant Morris; then Lieutenant Barlow. Why, she was making eyes at Captain Pennelle yesterday at dinner. I declare the girl seems quite to infatuate the men, and you see if trouble does not come of it.”
“Oh, tut! tut! Nonsense, my dear, what trouble should come?”
“Quarrels, and duels, and that sort of thing.”
“Men don’t fight duels now, my dear. Oh, no, don’t you be uneasy. We shall soon be at Sindang now, and then we can hand your incubus over to papa Perowne, and be free of it all.”
“I shall be very glad, I’m sure,” said the lady. “There look at her. I suppose that’s the last conquest!”
“Whom do you mean?” said the doctor, drowsily, for he had just settled himself for a nap in the yielding cane chair.
“That great, tall young officer, who came on board at Colombo.”
“Oh, Chumbley,” said the doctor, looking up and following his wife’s eyes to where a great broad-shouldered fellow was bending down talking to Helen Perowne, who seemed to be listening eagerly to his words, as if on purpose to annoy the half-dozen gentlemen forming her court.
He was a fine, well-set-up young fellow, looking like a lifeguardsman picked from among a selection of fair, curly-haired Saxons, and, evidently flattered by the lady’s notice, he was doing his best to make himself agreeable.
“You may call it what you like,” said Mrs. Doctor. “I call it scandalous! Here’s the very last arrival in the ship.”
“Regularly subjugated,” laughed the doctor.
“It is nothing to laugh at,” said the lady, indignantly. “I declare I have a good mind to go and interfere.”
“No, no, don’t,” said the doctor earnestly. “She means no harm, and you may only make a breach between you.”
“I don’t care, Henry; it is for the girl’s sake that I should interfere; and as to the breach, she utterly detests me as it is for what I have said. I think she hates me as much as I do her.”
“Oh, nonsense, nonsense, Mary, you could not hate anyone; and as to Helen Perowne’s foolish coquetry, it will all settle down into the love of some stout brave fellow.”
“Such as that of Lieutenant Chumbley.”
“Perhaps so.”
“Well I hope so, I’m sure. One ought to have a big strong man to keep all the others away, for if ever there was a heartless coquette it is she; and the sooner we can place her in her father’s hands the happier I shall be.”
“Would you mind whisking a fly off now and then with your handkerchief, Mary,” said the little doctor, drowsily, as he settled himself for his nap.
“I know there’ll be some mischief come out of it all,” said the little lady, as she drove a couple of flies from her husband’s nose.
“Only—few days—old Perowne—sure to meet us, and—”
The handkerchief was kept busily whisking about, for the flies were tiresome, and the doctor was fast asleep, only turning restlessly now and then, when in her eagerness to watch Helen Perowne and Lieutenant Chumbley—the young officer coming out to join the regiment into which he had exchanged with the hope of getting variety and sport—Mrs. Doctor forgot to act as guardian against the flies.
Volume One—Chapter Sixteen.
A Dangerous Creature.
At last Mrs. Bolter’s troubles were, as she said, at an end, for the great steamer had transferred a portion of her passengers to the station gunboat at the mouth of the Darak river. There had been a quick run up between the low shores dense with their growth of mangrove and nipah palm. The station had been reached, and the ladies transferred to the arms of their fathers, both waiting anxiously for the coming boat upon the Resident’s island, where in close connection with the fort Mr. Harley’s handsome bungalow had been built.
For the first few days all was excitement at Sindang, for the report of the beauty of “Old Stuart’s” daughter, and above all that of the child of the principal merchant in the place, created quite a furore among the officers of the two companies of foot stationed at the fort, and the young merchants and civil officers of the place.
“It is really a very, very great relief, Henry,” said Mrs. Doctor. “I can sleep as easily again now those girls are off my hands. I mean that girl; but really I don’t feel so satisfied as I should like, for though I know Helen Perowne to be safe in her father’s charge, I am not at all sure that my responsibility has ceased.”
“Ah, you must do what you can for the motherless girls, my dear. Eh, Arthur? what do you say?”
“I quite agree with you, Harry,” said the new chaplain, quietly; “but the change to here is—is rather confusing at first.”
“Oh, you’ll soon settle down, old fellow; and I say, Mary, my dear, it is a beautiful place, is it not?”
“Very, very beautiful indeed,” replied the little lady; “but it is very hot.”
“Well, say warmish,” said the doctor, chuckling; “but I did not deceive you about that. You’ll soon get used to it, and you won’t be so ready to bustle about; you must take it coolly.”
“As you do?” said Mrs. Doctor, smiling.
“As I do? Oh, I’m the doctor, and here is every one getting his or her liver out of order during my absence! My hands are terribly full just now; but we shall soon settle down. How is the church getting on, Arthur?”
“Slowly, my dear Harry,” said the Reverend Arthur, in his quiet way. “They are making the improvements I suggested. Mr. Perowne subscribed handsomely, and Mr. Harley is supplying more labour; but I’m afraid I was rather negligent this morning, for I strolled away towards the woods.”
“Jungle, my dear fellow, jungle! but don’t go again without me; I’m more at home here than you.”
“But the woods—I mean jungle—looked so beautiful; surely there is nothing to fear.”
“Not much—with care,” replied the doctor, “but still there are dangers—fever, sunstroke, tigers, crocodiles, poisonous serpents, venomous insects and leeches.”
“Goodness gracious!” ejaculated Mrs. Doctor. “Arthur, you are on no account to go again!”
“But, my dear Mary—” said the chaplain, meekly.
“Now, don’t argue, Arthur. I say you are on no account to go again!”
“But really, my dear Mary—”
“I will listen to no excuse, Arthur. Unless Henry, who understands the place, accompanies you, I forbid your going again. I hope you have not been into any other