“I cannot see him! I will not see him!” cried Helen, passionately; and she turned pale now at the idea of encountering the passionate young Malay. For the moment she bitterly regretted her folly, though the chances are that if circumstances tended in that direction she would have behaved again in precisely the same way.
“Now look here, Nelly,” said Mr. Perowne, “you must see him!”
For answer she paused for a moment, and then walked straight to the door.
“That’s right,” he said. “Temporise with him a bit, my dear, and let him down gently.”
Helen stood with the door in her hand, and darted at him an imperious look; then she passed through, and the door swung to behind her.
“Confound him! What insolence!” muttered Mr. Perowne, as he stood listening. “Eh? No; she wouldn’t dare! Why, confound the girl, she has gone up to her room and locked herself in! What a temper she has got to be sure!”
He gave his head a vicious rub, and then, evidently under the impression that it was in vain to appeal again to his child, he snapped his teeth together sharply, and walked firmly into the drawing-room, where the Rajah stood impatiently waiting his return.
The young eastern prince was most carefully dressed; his morning coat and trousers being from a West-end tailor, and his hands were covered with the tightest of lemon-coloured gloves. In one hand was a grey tall hat, in the other the thinnest of umbrellas. Altogether his appearance was unexceptionable, if he had dispensed with the gaudy silken sarong ablaze with a plaid of green, yellow, and scarlet.
His thick lips were wreathed in a pleasant smile, and his dark, full eyes were half closed; but they opened widely for an instant, and seemed to emit anger in one flash, as he saw that Mr. Perowne came back alone.
“Where—is—miss?” he said, in a slow, thick tone.
“Well, the fact is, Rajah,” said Mr. Perowne, giving a laugh to clear his throat, “I have seen my daughter, and she asked me to tell you that she is suffering from a bad headache. You understand me?”
The young Rajah nodded, his eyes seeming to contract the while.
“She is of course very much flattered by your proposal—one which she says she will think over most carefully; but she is so surprised, that she can only ask you to give her time. I see you understand me?”
The Rajah nodded again in a quick, eager way.
“English girls do not say yea all at once to a proposal like yours; and if you will wait a few months—of course being good friends all the time—we shall be able to speak more about the subject.”
Mr. Perowne, merchant, and man of the world, meant to say all this in a quick, matter-of-fact, frank way, but he stumbled, and spoke in a halting, lame fashion, growing more and more unsatisfactory as the young Malay prince came closer to him.
“I—I think you understand me,” he said, feeling called upon to say something, as the Malay glared at him as if about to spring.
“Yes—yes!” hissed the Malay. “Lies—all lies! I came for friend. You mock—you laugh in my face—but you do not know. I say I came for friend—I go away—enemy!”
He went on speaking rapidly in the Malay tongue, his rage seeming to be the more concentrated from the cold, cutting tone he adopted. Then, nearly closing his eyes, and giving his peculiar type of features a crafty, cat-like aspect, he gazed furiously at the merchant for a few minutes, and then turned, and seemed to creep from the house in a way that was as feline as his looks.
Volume One—Chapter Twenty One.
Taking Alarm.
Mr. Perowne drew his handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped the dew from his forehead.
“Good Heavens!” he ejaculated, “they assassinated poor Rodrick, and here is that girl only home for a few weeks, and a shock like this to come upon me! Surely I’ve troubles enough on hand without a worry like this!”
He walked to the window and saw the Malay prince entering his boat by the landing-place, where it was pushed off and pulled into mid-stream by a dozen stout rowers.
“The man’s mad with passion,” muttered Mr. Perowne. “I would not have had it happen for all I possess. Women always were at the bottom of every bit of mischief, but I did not expect Helen would begin so soon.”
He had another look at the Rajah’s handsome boat, which took the place of a carriage in that roadless place, and saw that the Malay prince had turned and was gazing back.
“I don’t know what’s to be the end of all this, and—Oh, Harley! is that you? Come in.”
The Resident, looking rather troubled and anxious, came in through the veranda, gazing sharply at Mr. Perowne.
“What has the Rajah been here for this morning?”
“What has he been here for?” cried Mr. Perowne, angrily, and glad of someone upon whom he could let off a little of his rage. “Why, to do what you ought to have done in a downright way. I gave you leave, and you have done nothing but play with her.”
“He has not been to propose for Helen’s hand?”
“Indeed, but he has.”
“How unfortunate! I did not know that matters had gone so far as that?”
“Nor I neither. I knew she was flirting a bit, confound her. Did you meet him?”
“Yes, and he would not speak. I saw something was wrong from his savage manner.”
“Perhaps he thought you had come up to propose, eh? Had you?”
“Not exactly,” said the Resident, looking very serious.
“Because if you had, you ought to have come before,” said Mr. Perowne, biting his nails.
“I came to remonstrate with Helen, after seeing Mrs. Bolter this morning.”
“Hang Mrs. Bolter for a meddling little fool,” cried the merchant.
“She drew my attention to the serious dangers that might ensue if Helen led this man on. I ought to have foreseen it, but I did not, and that’s the most troublous part of it. I ought to have known better,” cried the Resident, biting his lips.
“Oh, it’s very easy to talk,” said Mr. Perowne, whose previous night’s blandness seemed to be quite gone, to leave a weak, querulous childishness in its place.
“Knowing what I do of the Malay character, Perowne, I ought to have watched her, but I confess I was so wrapped up in my own feelings that I did not think.”
“I thought you wanted to marry her, I gave you my consent at once. I told you nothing would please me better,” continued the father, querulously; “but ever since you both landed you seem to have done nothing but shilly-shally.”
“Don’t talk like that, Perowne,” said the Resident, impatiently. “A man does not take a wife like you make a bargain. I want to win her love as well as have her hand.”
“And you hang back—I’ve seen you—and let these other fellows cut you out. Hilton and Chumbley, and then this Rajah. I say—I must say, Harley, it is much too bad.”
“Yes, yes, I have done as you say; but I had