“Oh, yes, I had great belief,” said the little lady, quietly.
“Well, then, you were waiting for the missionary to come and lead your belief the right way. Now then, my dear, don’t you see this? Suppose a place where there are a dozen ladies and only one gentleman. How many can be married?”
“Why, only one lady, of course,” said Mrs Doctor.
“Exactly, my dear,” said the doctor; “but it is a moral certainty that the gentleman will be married.”
“Well, yes, I suppose so,” replied Mrs Doctor.
“Suppose so? Why, they’d combine and kill him for an unnatural monster if he did not marry one of them,” said the doctor, laughing. “Well, then, my dear, suppose we reverse the case, and take a young and very handsome lady to a station in an out-of-the-way part of the world, where the proportions are as one to twenty – one lady to twenty gentlemen – what is the moral result?”
“I suppose she would be sure to be married?”
“Exactly, my dear. Well, as our handsome young charge evidently thinks a very great deal about love-making – ”
“A very great deal too much,” said Mrs Doctor, tartly.
“Exactly so, my dear. Well, she is going to such a place. What ought we to do?”
“See of course that she does not make a foolish match.”
“Ex – actly!” cried the doctor. “Well, Harley seems to have taken a fancy to her at once. Good man – good position – not too old.”
“I don’t know,” said the lady, dubiously, “I don’t quite think they would match.”
“I do,” said the doctor, sharply. “The very man. Plenty of firmness. He’s as genial and warm-hearted as a man can be; but he has a will like iron. He’d break in my young madam there; and, by Jove! ma’am, if I am a judge of woman’s nature – ”
“Which you are not, sir,” said the lady, sharply. “Well, perhaps not; but I do say this – if ever there was a Petruchio cut out for our handsome, dark-eyed Katherine, then Neil Harley is the man!”
“Here, doctor, where are you? Come along!” cried the gentleman in question. “Music – music! Miss Perowne has promised to sing!”
“Have you been persuading her, Mr Harley?” said the little lady.
“I? My dear madam, no! She refused me; but has been listening to the blandishments of Captain Lindley; and – there – she is beginning. By Jove! what a voice!”
Volume One – Chapter Fifteen.
Lieutenant Chumbley
A rapid and pleasant voyage, with a touch here and there at the various ports, giving the two girls, just fresh from their life of seclusion, a glance at the strange mixture of nationalities collected together in these pauses of commercial transit.
It was one continuous scene of interest to Grey Stuart, who was never weary of gazing at the hurrying crowds and the strange customs of these far-off towns; while Helen, if persuaded to land, found the heat too oppressive, and preferred a cane lounge in the shade of an awning, with four or five gentlemen in attendance with fans, iced water, or fruit.
The Resident was constant in his attentions to her, and tried, whenever the steamer put into port, to get her to join some excursion, the most notable of which was at Ceylon; but she invariably refused, when he would laughingly turn to Grey and ask her to be his companion.
Mrs Doctor looked serious at first; but, particular as she was, she gave way, for the Resident’s behaviour to the bright English girl was beyond reproach.
“You’ll understand Harley better by-and-by,” said the doctor. “He’s a very old friend of her father, and he might be the girl’s uncle from his way.”
“But do you think it will be proper to let her go?” said the little lady.
“I’ll answer for Harley’s conduct, my dear. If ever there was a gentleman it is he. Let her go.”
So Grey often became Neil Harley’s companion in these excursions, returning delighted with the wonders of each place; while the Resident was loud in his praises of her quiet, sensible appreciation of all they saw.
“She’s a very amiable, sweet, intelligent girl, Mrs Bolter,” he said one evening, as he sat with the doctor and his wife.
“Do you think so, Mr Harley?” said the lady drily.
“Indeed I do, ma’am,” he replied, “and I am very proud to know her.”
“Better hook her, Harley,” said the doctor, with a twinkle of the eye, as he saw his wife’s serious, suspicious glances. “She’ll be caught up like a shot.”
“Then I hope you and Mrs Bolter will help and see that she makes no foolish match. I beg her pardon, though,” he added, hastily; “she is not a girl who would do that.”
“You are first in the field,” said the doctor, in spite of an admonitory shake of the head from his lady. “Why not make your hay while the sun shines?”
The Resident sat gazing very seriously out at sea, and his voice was very low and tender as he replied:
“No; Miss Stuart is a young lady for whom I feel just such sentiments as I should presume a man would feel for his bright, intelligent child. That is all, Mrs Bolter,” he said, turning quickly. “I ought to congratulate you upon the warm hold you have upon Miss Grey’s affections.”
He rose then and walked away, with the little doctor’s wife watching him intently.
“Henry,” she said suddenly, “that man is either a very fine fellow or else he is an arch-hypocrite.”
“Well, I’ll vouch he isn’t the last,” said the doctor, warmly, “for I’ve known him ten years, and I’ve had him down twice with very severe attacks of fever. I know him by heart. I’ve sounded him all over, heart, lungs, liver: he hasn’t a failing spot in his whole body.”
“Bless the man!” said Mrs Doctor, “just as if that had anything to do with his character for honesty and truth. Now look there, Henry, really I cannot bear it much longer. That girl’s conduct is scandalous?”
“What, Grey Stuart’s?”
“No; absurd! Helen Perowne’s. Why the young men all seem to be mad.”
“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