HELEN TREVERYAN
 
 ^-
 
 HELEN TREVEEYAN 
 
 OR 
 
 THE KULING RACE 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN ROY 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I 
 
 ILonUon 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 AND NEW YORK 
 1892 
 
 All rights v zserved
 
 I/. 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Treveryans of Laneithin .... 1 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Change of Scene . . . . . .19 
 
 n? CHAPTER III 
 
 •*? The Langleys of Wrentham . . . . .25 
 
 ^ CHAPTER IV 
 
 ^ GrY Langley leaves England . . . .40 
 
 4 CHAPTER V 
 
 ^ The Thirtieth Lancers . . . . .46 
 
 ^ CHAPTER VI 
 
 T^UTWARD Bound . . . • .56 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Syntia ........ 70
 
 VI CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Some Morning Calls . . ... . .85 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 An Indian Cold Weather . . . . .111 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 Christmas Week . . . . . .125 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 The Proclamation of the Empire .. . . . 138 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 Mr. Pitt Wright ...... 155 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 The Die is cast ...... 172 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Suspense . . . . . . . . 184 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 Engaged ........ 201 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Guy writes Home . . . . . .217
 
 CONTENTS VU 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The News arrives at Wrentham .... 234 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 The Beginning of Trouble ..... 243 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 Trying to do Eight ...... 261
 
 CHAPTEE I 
 
 THE TREVERYANS OF LANEITHIN 
 
 Upon a weather-beaten headland, at one of the most 
 inaccessible points of the southern coast of Cornwall, 
 stands the old parish church of St. Erroc. Even now 
 there is no railway within several miles of it ; and the 
 parish is perhaps as isolated and old-fashioned "as any 
 in England. Its southern boundary is formed by a 
 line of rugged cliffs, with one or two difficult landing- 
 places which can be approached only when the wind 
 is off shore. To the north is rough moorland, over- 
 grown with gorse and the beautiful Cornish heath; 
 and beyond the moorland are the bare treeless hills, 
 eternally swept by the winds of the Atlantic. The 
 parish consists of several scattered hamlets and farms 
 at some distance from the church, which stands on 
 high ground with some trees and a village clustering 
 round it. The tall slender spire is a conspicuous 
 landmark for ships at sea. The principal house in 
 St. Erroc is the old manor-house of Laneithin, a sub- 
 stantial building of gray stone, which stands in a 
 VOL. I B
 
 2 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 wooded hollow near the edge of the moorland, about 
 two miles from the sea. From an architectural point 
 of view Laneithin is not beautiful or otherwise worthy 
 of remark ; but it is a fair specimen of a Cornish 
 country-house, and in its way picturesque enough. 
 About it are some clumps of fine trees ; and from one 
 side a deep glen runs down to a cove among the cliffs. 
 
 Forty years ago Laneithin was occupied by John 
 Treveryan, generally known as the Squire, whose 
 family had held the house, and some good land round 
 it, since the days of the Tudors. John Treveryan had, 
 when a young man, served for a time in the army ; 
 but he had retired on succeeding to his estate, and 
 had soon afterwards married a very fair and very 
 charming lady, who shared his Cornish home for 
 nearly thirty years. When she died she was very 
 deeply mourned, not only by her husband, but by the 
 whole population of that wild district of farmers and 
 fishermen. Of her children Margaret, the eldest, was 
 then with her father. A son, Erroc, had entered the 
 army, and gone to India with his regiment. A second 
 daughter had married the curate of the neighbouring 
 church of St. Kerle's, and had afterwards left the 
 county. 
 
 After Mrs. Treveryan's death her husband seemed 
 for a time quite broken by his loss. People pitied 
 the 'poor old Squire,' and said he would never be 
 the same man again. Perhaps he never was the same 
 But as time went on, it was found that
 
 I THE TREVERYANS OF LANEITHIN 3 
 
 John Treveryan had by no means done with life. 
 When the violence of his grief abated, the Squire 
 began once more to show an interest in what was 
 passing around him ; and after a year or two he was 
 again to all appearances as cheery as ever. His 
 daughter managed his house for him exceedingly well, 
 and was soon as popular as her mother had been. In 
 the sunshine of her love and care the Squire seemed 
 content and even happy. 
 
 He was a singularly fine -looking man; tall and 
 powerful, with a high-bred regular face and taking 
 manners, hearty but courteous. His complexion and 
 his blue eyes were clear and bright ; and his reddish 
 hair was still thick and almost untouched bj gray. 
 The broad rounded forehead and slightly aquiline 
 nose, and the straight strongly-marked eyebrows, gave 
 evidence of talent and character. Those eyebrows, 
 rather broad than heavy, were the distinctive feature 
 of the Treveryans. They were to be found in almost 
 every one of the family pictures. The Squire shaved 
 all but his whiskers, showing a mobile well-cut mouth, 
 and a rather prominent underlip and chin. A hand- 
 somer man one could hardly see. 
 
 Unfortunately the Squire was not free from some 
 dangerous qualities. He had a strong will, with un- 
 deniable talent and originality of mind ; but his judg- 
 ment was not altogether trustworthy, and his reckless 
 disregard for money had often been a trouble to his 
 wife. It was not extravagance of the ordinary type.
 
 4 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 He spent little on horses, or shooting, or dress, or 
 wine, or any of the usual luxuries. He rarely drank 
 anything but water, and though he had a magnificent 
 appetite he liked the plainest of food; and in every 
 way his tastes were very simple. But he seemed to 
 look upon money as a worthless thing, to be given 
 away with the most lavish generosity if any one wanted 
 it, and to be spent without limit or calculation upon 
 any object which might for the moment have aroused 
 his interest. Hitherto the steady common sense of 
 his wife had kept him within bounds ; but now that 
 she was gone he began to give himself more rein, and 
 to enter upon schemes of which she would certainly 
 have disapproved. 
 
 Margaret Treveryan had all her father's good looks, 
 and much of her mother's capacity ; but she was still 
 comparatively young, and, moreover, she did not know 
 all that was going on. So, having no check upon him, 
 John Treveryan began to get through his money a 
 great deal faster than he could afford to do. He 
 rebuilt two or three farmhouses, which were certainly 
 in bad repair, and amused himself by making them 
 examples of what in his opinion farmhouses should 
 be. The work afforded him a great deal of pleasure, 
 and in . a sense he did it very well ; but the result was 
 that the homely Cornish farmers found themselves 
 absurdly overhoused, and that a good many thousands 
 were sunk without the smallest return. Then the 
 Squire, who read largely and had an active mind.
 
 I THE TREVERYANS OF LANEITHIN 5 
 
 took to buying novelties in the way of agricultural 
 machinery. Each fresh toy was more wonderful than 
 the last, and each was in turn thrown aside and for- 
 gotten, and each cost money. The Squire had also a 
 taste for mechanical invention ; and he indulged it with- 
 out regard for expense. He set up a small workshop 
 in the house, and used to turn out very creditable 
 models, which went off to London or elsewhere to be 
 developed. They were useless, but they were very 
 ingenious, and they helped to get rid of the sovereigns. 
 
 After a time Margaret Treveryan began to see that 
 her father's inventions were more clever than practical, 
 and that the money must be going very fast ; but her 
 hesitating half- playful attempt at remonstrance met 
 with no success. The Squire told her with a good- 
 humoured smile that she did not understand anything 
 about the matter ; that it always paid to do things in 
 the best possible way; and that he was determined 
 to develope the estate to the utmost. Ten years after 
 Mrs. Treveryan's death he had developed the estate to 
 such an extent that he had got through all his ready 
 money, and was beginning to borrow. And there was 
 nothing whatever to show for it. 
 
 In the meantime the Squire had become a grand- 
 father. Erroc Treveryan had married, soon after his 
 arrival in India, the only child of the General com- 
 manding the division. Mary Ford was a gentle pretty 
 girl, and made him a good wife ; but she and her 
 children suffered severely from the climate. Two of
 
 6 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 them died before they were a year old ; and when the 
 terrible storm of the Mutiny broke upon our country- 
 men in India, the third child, a lovely little fair-haired 
 girl, eighteen months of age, was beginning to look 
 white and fragile. It was a fearful time for the 
 ladies and children. Mary Treveryan in common 
 with others was separated from her husband, whose 
 regiment was sent up to the disturbed districts. She 
 remained for a time in Calcutta, and there gave birth 
 to a fourth child which only lived a few hours. The 
 poor mother, worn out with grief and anxiety, very 
 nearly followed it; but at last she grew a little 
 stronger; and then, very pale and wasted, she gave 
 way to her husband's request and sailed for England. 
 His one desire was to know that she and little Helen 
 were safe at Laneithin. 
 
 They arrived in the early autumn, after a trying 
 voyage in the monsoon, and the Squire went all the 
 way up to Plymouth to meet them. He received them 
 with a warmth and affection which completely won 
 their hearts. Nothing could be good enough for them. 
 He had engaged the best suite of rooms to be got at 
 the best hotel, and had tipped the servants all round 
 to a perfectly ridiculous extent ; and he ordered sump- 
 tuous meals for them, and tried hard to make his 
 daughter-in-law drink champagne three or four times 
 a day ; and was generally charming and troublesome. 
 As for the child, he idolised her from the first moment 
 he saw her ; and she evidently understood the position.
 
 I THE TREVERYANS OF LANEITHIN 7 
 
 It was pretty to see them together — the tiny dainty 
 child, and the old man with his massive frame and 
 powerful limbs. She was not the least afraid of him, 
 and he was never tired of playing with her, and teas- 
 ing and petting her. 
 
 When he considered that they were sufficiently 
 rested, he took them on to Cornwall. There was a 
 reserved compartment in the train for Mrs. Treveryan 
 and Helen, who could not of course be crowded up 
 with other people. ' Expense, my dear ? What 
 is a few shillings compared with your comfort ? 
 Money is given us to spend.' At Laneithin Erroc's 
 wife and child found another warm welcome. 
 Margaret was at the door as soon as the carriage 
 drove up, and her face was a welcome in itself. It 
 was a thoroughly good face, handsome and honest 
 and kindly ; and both mother and child took to it at 
 once. 
 
 They remained at Laneithin a year, the strong 
 Cornish air doing wonders for little Helen ; and then 
 Mrs. Treveryan insisted upon returning to India. The 
 country was quieting down, and Erroc wrote that he 
 hoped she would soon be able to rejoin him. She 
 would go out to Calcutta again and wait there on the 
 chance. 
 
 It was a cruel wrench. Helen was three years old 
 now, and as pretty a child as one could wish to see, 
 and she was the only one. It was bitter to think of 
 leaving her, even at Laneithin. 'In a few months
 
 8 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 she will have forgotten me/ the poor mother said to 
 herself, with an aching heart ; ' she will never really be 
 mine again.' During that last sad fortnight, Mary 
 Treveryan's wistful eyes followed the child unceasingly. 
 Then the day of parting came ; a dark wet October day, 
 with a high wind from the sea ; and Mary Treveryan 
 kissed for the last time the sweet serious baby face, 
 unfastened the little arms from her neck, and went 
 away into the wind and the rain of the lonely Cornish 
 roads. 
 
 Do you ever think what those partings mean, you 
 happy English mothers ? They are going on around 
 you every day. Do you ever think what it is to hand 
 over to others, perhaps to neglect and unkindness, the 
 children you would die for, and to go away out of their 
 lives ? It is part of the price England pays for her 
 Indian Empire ; part of the cruel tale of blood and 
 tears. But it is not you who pay, so it matters 
 nothing to you. Stay at home in comfort, and thank 
 God that you are not as other women are. 
 
 A year later Mary Treveryan was at rest for ever. 
 She lived to rejoin her husband, and to spend a few 
 happy months with him ; and then she was laid in her 
 grave, with a tiny dead form by her side. 
 
 After her death Erroc Treveryan remained some 
 time longer in India. He was then holding an im- 
 portant post. During the Mutiny he had been selected 
 for service with a corps of irregular cavalry which was 
 being organised, and before the end of the campaign
 
 I THE TREVERYANS OF LANEITHIN 9 
 
 he was commanding it. The work suited him well, 
 and he speedily became a marked man. When the 
 fighting was over, Tr every an, now a Brevet Lieutenant- 
 Colonel, was offered the charge of a district which had 
 been one of the centres of disaffection ; and, as the 
 appointment seemed to offer a fine opening, he accepted 
 it. At that time the nation appeared to be deeply 
 interested in Indian affairs ; and it was supposed that 
 the transfer from the Company to the Crown was the 
 inauguration of a new and splendid era. Treveryan 
 did not foresee how soon India would be forgotten 
 again, and how completely he was cutting himself off 
 by entering upon an Indian career. 
 
 Once he had taken up his new duties he found he 
 could not leave his post for some time ; and it was not 
 until eighteen months after his wife's death that he at 
 last obtained furlough and returned to England. 
 
 His child was then nearly six years old. She was. 
 a pretty little girl, with large serious gray eyes and 
 dainty ladylike ways; but apparently as strong as a 
 child could be. The race had touched its mother 
 earth, and was springing up again, healthy and vigor- 
 ous. Helen tyrannised over her grandfather, and was 
 spoilt by every one in St. Erroc except Margaret 
 Treveryan, whose hand was as firm as it was gentle. 
 The child obeyed her to the letter, and thought her 
 quite faultless. 
 
 Helen was very gracious to her father. She took 
 him by the hand and introduced him to everything
 
 10 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 and everybody at Laneithin ; to the servants and the 
 garden, and the horses, and the cows, and the pigs, and 
 to her big retriever Dash, and to the turkeys and 
 ducks and fowls, and all the surroundings of her 
 country home. She had inherited the Treveryan love 
 for animals, and her aunt had strongly encouraged it ; 
 so that Helen was on terms of fearless intimacy with 
 every beast and bird in the place. Horses that could 
 have eaten her picked the bread gently from her tiny 
 palm, and rubbed their heads on her shoulder when 
 she went to them in their boxes : the ducks waddled 
 out of their pool under the ash tree when she passed 
 by; and Dash would have died for her a hundred 
 times over. 
 
 Sometimes Helen took her father out in the yacht. 
 The Treveryans had sailed the Cornish coast for many 
 generations, and they had some stirring traditions of 
 war and adventure at sea. Helen was to the manner 
 born, and dehghted in being afloat. The Dreadnought 
 was a handy little cutter of about fifteen tons, fit for 
 getting into and out of all sorts of places ; and her 
 captain, James Tregenza, was a steady old sea-dog who 
 knew every inch of the coast from Plymouth to the 
 Land's End. He belonged to the little village at 
 Came cove, and was a fisherman by early training ; 
 but he had served in the navy. Tregenza loved the 
 ' little lady' as much as if she had been his own child, 
 and was never so happy as when he had got her on 
 board.
 
 I THE TREVERYANS OF LANEITHIN ii 
 
 It was a thoroughly healthy life, and the father 
 and daughter spent a happy summer ; though with 
 him there was always present the sense of his loss. 
 If only he could have seen them together, the little 
 graceful child and the soft-eyed patient mother, who 
 had loved her so dearly, and left her for his sake. To 
 him life could never be very bright again. Erroc was 
 anxious too about his father. Margaret had told him 
 of her doubts as to money matters ; and he soon saw 
 that she had some cause for them. However, it was 
 very pleasant to be together, and for all at Laneithin 
 the time passed happily until the autumn, when Erroc 
 went back to India. 
 
 For the next eight or nine years Helen remained at 
 Laneithin, living a quiet country life, and learning 
 from 'Aunt Madge' nothing but what was good. 
 Margaret Treveryan was, like her mother, a well- 
 educated and accomplished woman ; and her influence 
 and teaching were just what a girl required. Helen 
 grew up straight and strong, in body and mind, with 
 refined feelings and tastes, and a complete want of 
 affectation. Aunt Madge taught her to be courteous 
 and considerate to all men, and to all living things : 
 to birds, and beasts, and flowers. She imbued Helen 
 with her own gentleness of thought, and with her own 
 chivalrous old-world pride in all that was good and 
 noble. She taught her to be proud of the Treveryans 
 who fought so well for King Charles ; to be proud of 
 Cornwall ; to be proud above all of England, and the
 
 12 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 great things England has done. She taught her that 
 cowardice was dishonourable, even in a woman ; and 
 that anything like deceit was cowardly, and there- 
 fore beneath her — beneath a Treveryan. She taught 
 her in fact to be, in the truest and fullest sense of the 
 word, a lady. And she taught her to fear and worship 
 God. A woman without religion is hardly a woman. 
 As for the less important matters which are generally 
 called education, Helen got on well enough. It was 
 difficult in Cornwall to get masters, but she was still 
 young ; and with the help of a good governess she 
 learned as much as most girls learn in the school- 
 room. She had decided talent for music, like most of 
 her family, and promised to sing well. 
 
 At fifteen she was a graceful and beautiful girl ; 
 a child still in many waj^s, and rather impetuous in 
 thought and speech, but very taking. She could 
 walk, and ride, and row, and she could steer the 
 Dreadnought on a wind very nearly as well as old 
 Tregenza ; and yet she was above all things gentle and 
 warm-hearted. From her babyhood she had possessed 
 the peculiar charm of manner which makes some 
 women attract all around them. Added to her good 
 looks and her real goodness of heart, that charm was ir- 
 resistible. The man had no music in his soul who could 
 see Helen Treveryan for five minutes and not love her. 
 Even Tregenza's two troublesome boys, the wildest 
 young scamps that ever sailed a boat, would do any- 
 thing for the little lady who lectured them and got
 
 I THE TREVERYANS OF LANEITHIN 13 
 
 them out of their scrapes. And in all the hospitable 
 houses of the most hospitable county in England 
 Helen Treveryan's face was as welcome as the day. 
 It was a very happy girlhood. 
 
 In the meantime, however, things had been going 
 from bad to worse with the Squire. As he got more 
 involved, he seemed to grow more reckless, and larger 
 in his views, and more irritable in temper. To Helen 
 he was always kind ; but at times he spoke sharply to 
 his daughter, who was obliged to trouble him for 
 money. He got a worried look too, and lost some of 
 his old heartiness of manner. A year or two after 
 Colonel Treveryan left England the old man opened a 
 quarry which was going to make all their fortunes. . It 
 failed of course, after a considerable sum had been 
 sunk in getting out stone and constructing a tramway. 
 The place was inaccessible, and the same stone could 
 be shipped much cheaper elsewhere. 
 
 For some time after that the Squire was more 
 careful. He used to sit and make models in his 
 workshop, or go out sailing with his daughter and 
 Helen. They were very happy then. He was so 
 cheery and handsome and good; like a big courteous 
 boy, full of fun and mischief. He even went so far as 
 to admit that he had been imprudent about money 
 matters, and promised to be very cautious in future. 
 Unfortunately the fit did not last. Margaret saw that 
 he was getting absorbed again in some scheme about 
 which he would not talk. He was carrying on a brisk
 
 14 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 correspondence ; and once or twice he went away for 
 a day or two. 
 
 At last she heard what had happened from a 
 woman in the village, who spoke as if the thing were 
 generally known. The Squire's curiosity had been 
 aroused by the chance discovery of a disused and over- 
 grown mine-shaft on the edge of the moor. He had 
 set to work to search the ground; and had almost 
 immediately found what he expected. Now he was 
 convinced that it only required a little money to open 
 at St. Erroc one of the richest tin mines in Cornwall. 
 He would soon be worth millions. 
 
 The Squire said nothing to his daughter. He knew 
 she should be afraid of the scheme ; and he did not 
 want to be discouraged. ' They will all believe in me 
 when I have done the thing,' he thought ; ' they will 
 see the old man was right then. Meanwhile it is no 
 use saying anything about it.' Margaret did not press 
 him, but she grew more anxious as the weeks went on. 
 
 The district was notoriously a bad one from a min- 
 ing point of view ; and the practical experts who came 
 down to examine the Squire's discovery looked doubt- 
 ful, and showed no inclination to help him. Their 
 caution, or, as he called it, their stupidity, only made 
 him more obstinate. He was not going to be put off 
 like that. His indignation incited him to tell Mar- 
 garet about it ; and she begged him to be very careful, 
 which annoyed him. He went away for a week, and 
 returned one evening in great spirits, bringing with
 
 I THE TREVERYANS OF LANEITHIN 15 
 
 him a pale, thickset, hook-nosed man, with a big head 
 and broad shoulders, and a slight foreign accent, whom 
 he introduced to his daughter as Dr. Stein, and de- 
 scribed as ' an Austrian mining fellow, who knew all 
 about it. Come down to see that find of mine, you 
 know. He's got a head on his shoulders, and saw 
 through the jealousy of the other fellows at once.' 
 
 During the summer of 1870, while all Europe rang 
 with the clash of arms, the end came at Laneithin. 
 Pushed on by Dr. Stein, the old Squire had got to- 
 gether every halfpenny that he could raise, and had 
 practically put the whole in the hands of his guest. 
 A considerable sum was really spent on the spot. 
 The greater part Stein professed to be spending in 
 London, promoting a company. This required a heavy 
 outlay ; but everything was going well. Success was 
 certain. 
 
 One morning at breakfast the Squire received a letter 
 which he opened eagerly. As he read his face grew 
 white, and an awful change came over it. Margaret 
 looked at him in alarm. 
 
 ' What is it, father ? ' she said anxiously. 
 
 The old man stood up, and a hoarse inarticulate 
 sound broke from him. The letter dropped on the 
 table, and he made two vain attempts to pick it up 
 again. Margaret and Helen were by his side at once, 
 and Helen picked up the letter and gave it to him. 
 He could not speak, but he raised his left hand to his 
 mouth, and then tried to walk out of the room.
 
 i6 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 With the help of the servants they got him up- 
 stairs, and sent for the doctor, who came two hours 
 later. 
 
 It was a paralytic stroke. Dr. Carlyon hoped all 
 might yet go well. In the meantime there was to be 
 no mention of business, nothing to excite or worry the 
 sick man. Alas ! he bore his death-wound in his 
 heart. He never lost consciousness, and after the 
 doctor had gone he succeeded in making Margaret 
 understand that she was to read the letter. As she 
 did so, he lay watching her face with eyes of pathetic 
 anguish. . 
 
 It was a cruel letter: Dr. Stein curtly informed 
 the Squire that he had failed in his efforts, that the 
 money was all spent, and that he was leaving England 
 at once. There was hardly an attempt at further 
 concealment. 
 
 Margaret put down the letter and looked at her 
 father. His mouth was trembling, and the look in his 
 eyes was more than she could bear. 'Never mind, 
 father dear,' she said. ' It will all come right. Don't 
 worry yourself about it. It's only a little money. 
 What does that matter ? ' 
 
 He shook his head despairingly. He knew it was 
 hopeless. In the presence of Death the Eevealer 
 many things became suddenly clear to him. He lived 
 only a few weeks longer. For a time he recovered in 
 a measure the use of his speech, and his head seemed 
 clear ; but he would accept no consolation. He had
 
 I THE TREVERYANS OF LANEITHIN 17 
 
 ruined them all, and his self-reproach was sad to see. 
 While his son was on the seas speeding homeward, 
 hoping to see him once more, the old Squire was 
 stricken again and died. The end came quietly ; they 
 hardly knew when it was over. He was laid among 
 his own people, under the shadow of St. Erroc spire; 
 and all who had known him were sorry for his death. 
 He had lived long among them, with a handsome face, 
 and an open hand, and a kindly heart. 
 
 When Colonel Treveryan came he found things 
 even worse than he had feared. How his father had 
 succeeded in raising such sums of money he could not 
 understand. One thing was clear, that with the 
 utmost efforts, by letting the house and saving every 
 penny he could save henceforward, he could harSly 
 hope in his lifetime to discharge the debt ; and, mean- 
 while, if he died his sister and child would be almost 
 destitute. It was ruin, complete and crushing. 
 
 While he was reflecting sadly over the position, he 
 received an offer which gave him a chance of getting 
 out of his difficulties. A rich landowner of the neigh- 
 bourhood, who could afford to pay a fancy price for 
 anything he wanted, came forward at this moment with 
 a proposal to buy Laneithin. At first Erroc Treveryan 
 shrank from the idea with something like horror. 
 Laneithin had been in the family nearly three hundred 
 years. He could not let it go. As he thought on, 
 however, the thing assumed a different aspect. The 
 price offered was very large, much more than he could 
 
 VOL. I c
 
 1 8 HELEN TREVERYAN chap, i 
 
 have hoped to get ; and after all what would he gain 
 by refusing it ? They could never live at Laneithin, 
 any of them, and he had no son to keep up the name. 
 Was it right in the interest of the others to refuse the 
 offer ? The brother and sister talked it all over to- 
 gether, with many fluctuations of feeling ; and at last 
 they agreed that it would be wisest to accept. The 
 old home must go. It was hard, cruelly hard ; but it 
 was the right thing to do. 
 
 So Laneithin passed away to other hands, and the 
 name of Treveryan disappeared from St. Erroc. 
 Henceforth their place would know them no more.
 
 CHAPTEK II 
 
 CHANGE OF SCENE 
 
 When Laneithin had been sold, Colonel Treveryan 
 went back to his work in India, and his sister took 
 Helen abroad. France and Germany were locked in 
 their death-struggle, so Helen and her aunt went first 
 to Italy, where they spent a very pleasant year. . A 
 complete change was the best thing for both of them ; 
 and the education would be good for Helen. They 
 had with them one old Laneithin servant — Miss Tre- 
 veryan's maid Power, a little brown-eyed woman who 
 loved her mistress from the bottom of her honest 
 heart, and had petted and spoilt Helen ever since she 
 first saw her. She followed them now, and would 
 have followed them to the world's end. 
 
 Altogether, in Italy and Switzerland and France, 
 and finally in Germany, they spent four years. Once, 
 for a few months, Colonel Treveryan joined them, and 
 they had a delightful summer about the Swiss lakes. 
 He was very proud of his daughter now. She grew 
 prettier every year, and her voice was delightful ; yet 
 she was just as unaffected and natural as a child. It
 
 20 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 was settled during his visit that when she was nineteen 
 she should go out to him in India, and that Aunt 
 Madge should go too. But when the time drew near, 
 the doctors interfered. Since they had left Laneithin, 
 Margaret Treveryan's health had never seemed so 
 strong as before, and lately she had suffered acute pain 
 from some affection of the heart. She was now for- 
 bidden to leave Europe, and Helen had to go alone. 
 
 She went with a painful conflict of feeling. She 
 had learned to love her father during his visits to 
 Europe ; but Aunt Madge had been everything to her 
 since she was a baby. It was hard to leave her, even 
 to go to him ; and it was doubly hard to leave her in 
 failing health. Aunt Madge was very firm. 'No, 
 dear,' she said. 'Your first duty is to your father. 
 Don't ever let him know you had the slightest hesita- 
 tion about it. I shall miss you of course ; but think 
 how lonely his life has been for the last ten years.' 
 
 ' But you are not well. You ought not to be left 
 alone.' 
 
 Aunt Madge smiled. ' I can take care of myself, 
 and Power will take care of me. I might live for 
 twenty or thirty years. You could not stay with me 
 indefinitely because I am not perfectly well.' 
 
 A few weeks later Helen had said good-bye and 
 sailed for India, and Aunt Madge had settled down in 
 a tiny house at Torquay, where she had been advised 
 to go. It was a very tiny house, for she was troubled 
 at being a burden on her brother ; and it was lonely.
 
 II CHANGE OF SCENE 21 
 
 Her sister had died long before, leaving only two sons, 
 who had grown up anything but agreeable. Their 
 father was a rough, rather coarse-bred man ; and they 
 seemed to have taken after him entirely. There was 
 nothing of the Treveryan in them. In the old times 
 they had come once or twice to Laneithin ; but they 
 were not nice boys, and Aunt Madge did not think 
 them good companions for Helen. There was no one 
 else belonging to the family. 
 
 However, Aunt Madge had not long to endure her 
 solitude. She began to lose strength fast. She seemed 
 to feel that her work was over ; and though she was 
 brave and cheerful to the end, she had no wish to live. 
 A year after Helen left her she was gone. 
 
 It was not until then that they knew how ill she 
 had been. She would never let Power tell them ; and 
 her last letter was as beautifully written as ever, and 
 as full of brightness and interest in their doings. She 
 died as she had lived, thinking of others. It was one 
 of those lives which are so hard to understand. As a 
 girl Margaret Treveryan seemed to have been given 
 everything which could make life sweet : beauty, talent, 
 education, charm of manner, a true warm heart. Then, 
 at two-and-twenty, the man she loved was taken from 
 her by a miserable accident ; and from that time she 
 never seemed to think of herself In making others 
 happy she found contentment ; but it seemed a waste 
 somehow, a waste of love and beauty, and capacity for 
 happiness.
 
 22 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 In the meantime Helen had settled down in her 
 Indian home. Colonel Treveryan was now in a 
 prominent position, and she had to manage his house 
 for him. It was difficult work at first, while every- 
 thing was strange to her ; but she soon learnt enough 
 Hindustani to make herself understood by the servants, 
 and the other ladies helped her over her early troubles. 
 Before she had been two years in India, Colonel Tre- 
 veryan's house was everything it should have been ; 
 and her presence had brightened his life to an extent 
 which he could never have believed possible. People 
 said he had grown young again. 
 
 She was very happy too. Her father's one aim 
 was to make her so ; and she had everything the heart 
 of a girl could desire. She had learnt to know him 
 thoroughly now, and she loved him as much as if they 
 had always been together; she could hardly believe 
 at times that they had not. It was a delight to her 
 to be with him and work for him ; to surround him 
 with care and comfort ; to relieve him of all petty 
 worries ; and to make his house pleasant for his many 
 guests. He had cleared off all the Squire's debts by 
 this time, and there was plenty of money for every- 
 thing; so she was free from that most wearing of 
 troubles, the anxiety about ways and means. The 
 difficulty was to prevent her father from spending too 
 much on her and her pleasures. He had given her 
 the best Arab horse he could get ; and had brought 
 out for her all the way from England a beautiful deer-
 
 II CHANGE OF SCENE 23 
 
 hound, which was a real delight to her ; and he was 
 constantly trying to find out something she wanted. 
 It was not very prudent perhaps, for his income would 
 die with him ; but he was so fond and proud of her, 
 and it was the Indian way to be open-handed. We 
 have changed all that now. The Indian Services are 
 half ruined by the fall in the value of silver, and the 
 old open-handedness is dying out fast ; but it was the 
 fashion then. 
 
 One Sunday evening in the month of September, a 
 small party of guests were gathered round Colonel 
 Treveryan's dinner-table. It was an understood thing 
 in the hot weather that any one who liked to come in 
 after evening-church could do so ; and generally three 
 or four men availed themselves of the chance. That 
 night some of the officers of a Hussar regiment which 
 was quartered at Syntia had driven over from can- 
 tonments. 
 
 The regiment was to be relieved two months later ; 
 and the conversation at dinner turned upon this 
 subject. They began talking about the Thirtieth 
 Lancers, who were coming to Syntia in their place ; 
 and Colonel Treveryan said he knew Colonel Aylmer, 
 who commanded ; they had served together in the 
 Mutiny. One name after another was mentioned, and 
 then a Major Hodgson said: 'The only one I know well 
 is young Guy Langley. He comes from my part of the 
 country. You are sure to like him. He is a real good 
 boy ; does everything well ; and a handsome fellow too.'
 
 24 HELEN TREVERYAN chap, ii 
 
 ' I have met him. He's a good-looking fellow,' 
 another man said ; ' but he puts on a lot of side, doesn't 
 he?' 
 
 ' Oh no. He doesn't mean it. He really is a very- 
 nice young chap. It's only the Thirtieth swagger.' 
 
 Helen sat listening in silence. ' I shan't like him' 
 she thought; and she pictured to herself a conceited 
 young gentleman with a supercilious manner. She 
 had seen some like that, and objected to them 
 strongly. 
 
 But Guy Langley was not like that. The idea 
 one forms of a man from the casual conversation of 
 others is often curiously incorrect.
 
 CHAPTEE III 
 
 THE LANGLEYS OF WRENTHAM 
 
 The Langleys of Wrentham Hall in the county of 
 Warwick were a good old family, with some reason to 
 be proud of themselves. They were not the original 
 occupants of the Hall, which, like most of our English 
 country houses, had changed hands more than once. 
 The Langleys bought it from a family of the name of 
 Blunt, who were ruined, like many others, in the dis- 
 graceful days of Charles the Second ; when the Dutch 
 were burning our ships in the Thames, and Society 
 was gambling and drinking at Whitehall. John 
 Langley, the first of the name at Wrentham, was a 
 London merchant, who had made a fortune in the 
 Eastern trade, and had been knighted by the King in 
 return for a loan of which nothing was ever more heard. 
 Sir John rebuilt the Hall, which was then a picturesque 
 Elizabethan house, or rather he added to it. The 
 original house was left standing, but the court and 
 subsidiary buildings were cleared away from the front, 
 and in their place arose a lofty fagade of stone, 
 with narrow windows and pointed gables. From this
 
 26 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 block two wings were carried backwards to meet the 
 projecting wings of the old house, and the whole build- 
 ing thus assumed the shape of a square, the original 
 porch and front looking across a flagged courtyard into 
 the back of the new block. Taking a hint from what 
 he had found at Wrentham, Sir John then threw out a 
 stone portico in front of his new main door, and a walled 
 court in front of the portico. A panel in the great stone 
 gateway bore the representation of a chained leopard 
 instead of the bull's head of the Blunts, which was 
 relegated to a smaller gateway on the right of the 
 court, leading into the garden. The stables were re- 
 built just outside the court, also to the right, an iron 
 gateway giving access from the court to the stable-yard. 
 Sir John Langley had been struck by the hall of the old 
 house, with its muUioned windows and high oak panel- 
 ling, and this he determined to reproduce. His new 
 front door was therefore made to open into a large 
 panelled hall, at one end of which was a wide fire- 
 place of the ancient type, and at the other end a broad 
 oak stair leading to the rooms above. For the sake of 
 warmth the front door was covered by a small inner 
 porch or anteroom, which projected into the hall, 
 breaking the stiff outline of the walls and forming two 
 pleasant recesses to right and left of the entrance. 
 From each of these recesses a broad carved window 
 with cushioned seats looked out upon the court. 
 
 A walled garden lay to the right of the house, 
 sloping gently towards a stream a hundred paces dis-
 
 Ill THE LANGLEYS OF WRENTHAM 27 
 
 tant. This stream turned in its course a little lower 
 down, and the road leading from the Hall to the village 
 of Wrentham crossed it by a massive stone bridge. 
 
 After the time of Sir John, Wrentham remained 
 substantially unchanged. The walls became mellowed 
 in colouring, and covered in parts with lichen and 
 moss and ivy ; the oaken stairs and panelling grew 
 darker and darker ; the garden-wall was levelled, and 
 the old enclosed garden gave place to a smooth slop- 
 ing lawn dotted with fine trees ; while flower-beds and 
 shady walks and hothouses gradually grew into being 
 beyond the stream ; finally, a considerable extent 
 of country round the house was enclosed and turned 
 into a park, full of grassy mounds and grand old troes 
 and pleasant glades, which ran up into the bracken 
 and underwood of the pheasant covers. But substan- 
 tially the Hall remained as Sir John Langley had 
 built it, only improved by the hand of Time, and the 
 loving care of successive generations of occupants. As 
 a specimen of architecture it was very far from perfect, 
 and at times a stranger might have thought it some- 
 what gloomy ; but in spring or summer, when the 
 lawns were smooth and trim, and the flower-beds bright 
 with colour, and the great oaks and beeches in their 
 glory, a man would have been hard to please who could 
 find fault with such a home. It was a thoroughly 
 English house, such as no country but England can 
 show, and fit to be the cradle of a sturdy English race. 
 
 The Langleys were worthy of their birthplace.
 
 28 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 They could not boast of a chivalrous descent, and they 
 had made no great mark in history; but they had 
 given to their country a fair number of stout soldiers 
 and honest country gentlemen, and in their own part 
 of England their name stood high. At the same time 
 the family was not wealthy. Since the days of Sir 
 John the Langleys had never made money, or largely 
 increased their possessions by marriage. The younger 
 sons had been obliged to seek their living all over the 
 world, very much to their own advantage and that of 
 the world as well. 
 
 That evening in September 1876, when the little 
 Sunday party were sitting round Colonel Treveryan's 
 table at Syntia, the sun was still bright in the English 
 sky. It was one of those clear exquisite days of 
 early autumn when the north wind brings with it a 
 gentle warning of the dark days to come. 
 
 The Langleys were gathered about the open hall 
 door in readiness for their usual Sunday ramble across 
 the fields. They were a handsome family. Charles 
 Langley, the master of the house, was fully sixty 
 years of age, but he was still a man to be envied as 
 he stood there among his sons, straight and broad- 
 shouldered and powerful, with the clear eyes and 
 fresh complexion which can only be kept by a healthy 
 country life. His wife stood near him, a tall graceful 
 woman, with a determined face. Lady Mary Langley 
 was the granddaughter of a successful lawyer, whose 
 abilities had won him a peerage. His son, the second
 
 Ill THE LANGLEYS OF WRENTHAM 29 
 
 peer, had rendered some service to his party, aud had 
 been rewarded with an earldom. When he died in his 
 turn he left behind him a son who succeeded to the 
 title, and a daughter, Lady Mary, who inherited little 
 in the way of money, but a large share of the 
 pertinacity and rather imperious temper which had 
 distinguished her father and grandfather. 
 
 When she married Charles Langley he was a 
 Captain and Lieutenant- Colonel in the Guards, and 
 one of the best -looking men in the service. She 
 never rested until she induced him to leave the army, 
 for which he was in some respects well fitted, and to 
 enter upon a political career, for which, as he well 
 knew, he was not fitted at all. She succeeded in 
 getting him into the House, but there her success 
 ended. He detested the life, and was beyond measure 
 pleased when, after a couple of years of weary drudgery, 
 he was beaten at the general election by a Eadical 
 candidate. Nothing would induce him to stand again ; 
 it was, he said, worse than being in jail. There at 
 least you got regular meals and a good night's rest ; 
 in the House you got neither. Lady Mary did her 
 utmost to rouse him to a sense of what she described 
 as his duty, but on this point he was immovable ; 
 and at last, with many secret tears of mortification 
 and anger, she was forced to recognise her defeat. 
 She had spoilt a good soldier in Charles Langley, and 
 she could make nothing else of him. 
 
 The two girls, Barbara and Evelyn, had much of
 
 30 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 their mother's gracefulness, but with more of the 
 Langley type, the fair hair and blue eyes which 
 were so common in the family pictures. They looked 
 well in their trim gray ulsters and honest walking- 
 boots ; and they were thoroughly good girls, well 
 mannered and sensible if not highly accomplished. 
 Their brothers were like them and each other, though 
 not cast in the same mould. Henry, the eldest, was 
 a typical Langley in face and figure, with his father's 
 broad shoulders and fair colouring. He had un- 
 fortunately married when at Oxford a woman of 
 humble extraction some years older than himself. 
 Husband and wife were now separated, and there 
 were no children of the marriage. It had been a 
 severe blow to Lady Mary, who could have forgiven 
 almost anything sooner than this ; and poor Harry, 
 who was a good fellow at bottom, found himself so 
 uncomfortable at Wrentham that he did not care to 
 come down very often. He lived by himself on his 
 allowance, which was liberal, hunting a little and 
 shooting a good deal, and getting through his time 
 with tolerable satisfaction to himself and not much 
 harm to any one else. Guy, the second son, of whom 
 they were talking in India, had been three years in 
 the army. There was perhaps a touch of swagger 
 about his manner, which was, however, singularly 
 pleasant and winning; and his tall clean-cut figure 
 was topped by a well-shaped head and handsome face. 
 He was like his mother; but his features, though
 
 Ill THE LANGLEYS OF WRENTHAM 31 
 
 regular, were not so determined in their expression. 
 Guy was the best looking and cleverest of the Lang- 
 leys, and the most popular with men and women. 
 Finally, there was Eoland, the youngest son, a good- 
 looking young fellow too, but perhaps at that time 
 the least attractive of the family. He was only a 
 couple of years younger than Guy, but he had always 
 been more or less delicate, and the difference seemed 
 to be much greater. Eoland had done better at 
 school than either of his brothers, and had left Eton 
 with a certain conceit about him which Oxford was 
 not eradicating. Guy disapproved of the tone Eoland 
 had brought back from college ; and expressed his 
 disapproval with candour. ' Eo, you are an infernal 
 young prig,' he said ; ' you ought to go back to Jones's 
 and get it swished out of you. I thought you would 
 come to a bad end when you began to bring back all 
 those beastly prizes. You won't do us any credit if 
 you go on like this.' And Guy had set to work in a 
 good-humoured but very scientific manner to 'take 
 Eo down a peg.' However, Eoland was an affectionate 
 boy, with the makings of a man in him, and if he 
 was inclined to be priggish he had some excuse. He 
 had been the most prominent oppidan at Eton ; and 
 his tutor, a very distinguished classical scholar, who 
 thought the highest thing in life was to be a school- 
 master or a college don, had said to him at parting, 
 ' Well, Langley, I am glad your people recognise that 
 you are too good to be wasted on the army.'
 
 32 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 Most families fall into natural subdivisions, and 
 the Langleys were no exception to the rule. Harry 
 and Barbara had always been firm allies. Evelyn 
 and Eoland, though given to sparring with each other, 
 never failed to present an unbroken front to an 
 external enemy. Guy, who came between the two 
 pairs, was a general favourite, but he was from the 
 beginning his mother's boy and had taken all his 
 childish confidences direct to her. Now it was his 
 last day at Wrentham, and Lady Mary's eyes rested 
 on him wistfully as he stood on the steps in the sun- 
 light, his left arm carelessly linked in Evelyn's, and 
 his face turned towards the stable, in front of which 
 two or three dogs were barking madly and straining 
 at their collars, hindering by their impatience the boy 
 who was trying to loose them. A few seconds later 
 they were racing across the courtyard, old Saxon, the 
 deer-hound, a dozen lengths ahead ; and after a stormy 
 greeting the party set out for their walk. 
 
 * Come with me, Guy,' his mother said, and she 
 thought with a sudden pang that this was perhaps the 
 last time, the last of so many since he had been a 
 sunny-faced baby of four. How well she remembered 
 his first Sunday afternoon walk, his pride at his pro- 
 motion, and his scornful refusals to admit that he was 
 tired. 'Twenty years ago,' she thought, and sighed. 
 Then she repressed the feelings that were crowding 
 upon her, and went on with an air of half- assumed 
 disgust : ' You wretched boys ! Poisoning the pure air
 
 Ill THE LANGLEYS OF WRENTHAM 33 
 
 of heaven with your horrid tobacco.' Guy laughed. It 
 was an old subject of discussion between them, and 
 had been a sore subject once ; but Lady Mary, like a 
 sensible woman, had yielded upon this point, and many 
 others, when she found her sons growing out of leading- 
 strings. * You know you like it really, mother,' he said. 
 ' I had hard work to educate you, and you must not be 
 ungrateful.' She answered him with a smile, and they 
 passed out together under the great stone gateway. 
 
 It was a walk both mother and son often thought 
 of in after years. Away in India Guy would sit at 
 times with a far-off look in his eyes, dreaming of the 
 old home, and that afternoon seemed to come before 
 him with special clearness. He could see the sunlight 
 on the grass slopes, and the autumn tints on the 
 trees, and he seemed to feel again the still cool air 
 just touched with the scent of the coming winter. 
 And his mother remembered it too, poor lady, gazing 
 out upon the path they had trodden side by side, 
 and longing, with a longing that was physical pain, for 
 one look of those straight gray eyes and the ring of 
 the cheery voice. The walk was rather a sad one. 
 Charles Langley and his eldest son went on ahead, 
 talking of the pheasants and the prospects of the 
 hunting. Lady Mary spoke little. The young people 
 laughed and chatted about the familiar objects they 
 passed, but their laughter seemed a little out of tune, 
 and once or twice the talk- slackened into silence in a 
 way that was unusual with that somewhat noisy family. 
 
 VOL. I D
 
 34 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 When their heads were turned homewards the breaks 
 of silence became longer, and by the time they arrived 
 at the Hall they all felt tired and depressed. 
 
 There remained a couple of hours before dinner, and 
 Guy strolled off to spend a part of them in saying 
 good-bye to his friends at the stables. He was a 
 favourite with man and beast, and his welcome was a 
 pleasant one. It was dark when he finished his chat 
 with old James the coachman in the saddle-room, and 
 knocked, as he had promised to do, at the door of his 
 father's study. Charles Langley was sitting in a leather- 
 covered armchair, with his feet on the fender, reading 
 The Field. Early as it was a fire was agreeable. ' Well, 
 Guy,' he said, as his son walked into the room and drew 
 a chair up opposite to him, * so you are off to-morrow.' 
 
 ' Yes, father.' 
 
 ' I wish you could have stayed in England a little 
 longer ; but you are quite right to stick to your regi- 
 ment, though your mother does not agree with me 
 there. I don't like to see a soldier shirking foreign 
 service.' 
 
 ' I wouldn't leave the regiment for anything in the 
 world,' Guy answered warmly ; and his father looked 
 at him with approving eyes. 
 
 ' You are all right about money ? ' 
 
 'Yes. I owe a little, but not more than I can 
 manage.' 
 
 ' That's right. It's a stupid thing to get into debt. 
 All the same, you must have extra expenses just now,
 
 Ill THE LANGLEYS OF WRENTHAM 35 
 
 and you may want something in India at first,' and he 
 took a closed envelope from the table at his side and 
 handed it over to his son. 
 
 ' Thank you, father,' Guy said, ' I daresay I shall 
 know what to do with it ; but I told you I would man- 
 age on my allowance if you let me go into the cavalry. 
 It has been rather a tight fit sometimes, but I have 
 never troubled you, have I ? ' 
 
 ''No, never. But I felt sure you would keep 
 straight,' his father answered ; ' and I am sure you 
 always will, about everything else as well as money.' 
 
 Guy did not reply, and there was a pause which 
 neither seemed able to break. Both would have liked 
 to say something more, but both were embarrassed. 
 Then Charles Langley put an' end to the silence and 
 the interview. 
 
 ' Hallo,' he said, with a glance at the clock on his 
 mantelpiece ; 'it is time to dress for dinner. I did 
 not know it was so late. I never heard the gong.' 
 
 Guy pushed back his chair slowly, stood for a 
 moment in front of the fire, and then walked out of 
 the room. As he passed behind the armchair, he laid 
 his hand gently upon his father's shoulder. Charles 
 Langley looked round with a smile and a nod, and then, 
 as the door closed and the sound of Guy's footsteps 
 died away down the passage, he sighed and stood up. 
 He felt that they should have been more to one another ; 
 that in his indolence he had let the boy drift away from 
 him. Now it was too late.
 
 36 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 After dinner, as the Langleys sat round the great 
 fireplace in the hall, the talk and the laughter were 
 bright enough. It was a way they had in all but the 
 coldest weather. The hall was a fine lofty room, the 
 walls covered with trophies brought back by sporting 
 or fighting Langleys for generations past. Great heads 
 of moose and bison from America, the tapering twisted 
 horns of Indian and African antelopes, and swords, 
 spears, shields, and strange old firearms were mixed 
 together overhead ; while the polished wooden floor 
 was half covered by the skins of tigers and leopards 
 and bears. At either side of the projecting carved fire- 
 place stood a figure in full armour, supposed to have 
 been worn by some of the bygone Blunts. These 
 motionless figures, with their closed helmets, were rather 
 ghostly companions ; but they had stood there ever 
 since the days of Sir John, and the hall which they 
 had so long guarded seemed to be the representative 
 room of the house and the race. It was the room the 
 Langleys dreamt of when they were away ; and for the 
 adornment of it the boys incurred many a hard day's 
 work, and faced many a danger. 
 
 There they gathered to spend their last evening to- 
 gether. Charles Langley and Harry sat near a lamplit 
 table reading, while the rest grouped themselves about 
 the log-fire, G-uy's long limbs stretched out across the 
 bearskin hearthrug, and his head resting upon a 
 cushion which he had comfortably disposed against 
 his mother's knees. Nobody but Guy would have
 
 Ill THE LANGLEYS OF WRENTHAM 37 
 
 dreamt of such a thing in that house, but Guy could 
 do anything. For an hour or more the talk and the 
 laughter went on, Lady Mary alone being silent, her 
 hand moving softly at times about Guy's head. Then 
 the bell in the courtyard suddenly rang out the 
 summons to prayers. Guy got up, rather unwillingly, 
 and they all passed into the inner room, where the 
 servants were awaiting them. As they went Eoland 
 put into words the idea which had struck more than 
 one of them. ' How dreary the old bell sounds to- 
 night,' he said -in a rather sentimental tone, ' as if it 
 were tolling for Guy's departure.' 
 
 Evelyn turned upon him with sudden wrath. 
 ' What an idiot you are, Eo,' she whispered savagely. 
 ' Can't you see what it is to mother ? ' and he went 
 to his seat feeling hurt but penitent. 
 
 Charles Langley read a few verses, and then they 
 knelt and listened again to the beautiful evening col- 
 lects, and rose, none the better perhaps some of them, 
 but quieted and calmed by the solemn words. They 
 generally gathered in the hall again when prayers were 
 over, but that night Lady Mary could stand no more. 
 ' You have to be up early,' she said, laying her hand on 
 Guy's arm as the servants left the room ; ' go and have 
 your cigar, and come to my room for a minute when 
 you are going to bed.' 
 
 So they broke up, the girls following their father 
 and mother, and the young men going off to change 
 their coats and assemble in their den in the east wing.
 
 38 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 That night they did not stay long smoking. In 
 less than an hour they parted ; Guy walking down the 
 passage with his arm over Eoland's shoulder. ' Good- 
 night, Eo,' he said, as they stood by the door of their 
 mother's room. ' Be a good boy, and don't think me 
 a beast for sitting on you. It's my way, you know.' 
 And then, as he caught a glimpse of the boy's 
 face, he turned hastily round and knocked at the 
 door. 
 
 When Guy left his mother an hour later he had 
 realised more clearly perhaps than ever before the 
 strength of her love for him. She spoke to him 
 quietly, never breaking down for a moment, but he 
 saw how hard it was to her ; and when at the last 
 he lifted and kissed, as he used to do, a mass of the 
 beautiful brown hair which hung down below her 
 waist, she threw her arms round him with such a 
 passionate cry that he was startled. ' Now go,' she 
 said, with a sudden change of manner, and her 'good- 
 night' sounded hard and constrained. 
 
 Guy's room looked rather desolate with his little 
 remaining luggage packed ready for the start, but he 
 was young and had the world before him, and he was 
 soon asleep. For an hour afterwards his mother sat 
 before the fire thinking of all he had been to her. I^ow 
 and then a smile came over her face, but for the most 
 the steady brown eyes were very sad. At last she 
 shivered and got up. The fire was almost out and the 
 room felt cold. She walked across to her dressing-
 
 Ill THE LANGLEYS OF WRENTHAM 39 
 
 table, and stopped a moment before it. Then she 
 lifted up the mass of hair that Guy had kissed, and 
 cut away a heavy tress. ' He will like to have it 
 when he is away,' she said to herself, ' my own 
 boy/
 
 CHAPTEE IV 
 
 GUY LANGLEY LEAVES ENGLAND 
 
 The London train which Guy wanted to catch left 
 Wrentham Eoad before seven, and as the Hall was 
 four miles from the station, the household was astir by 
 candlelight. 
 
 Guy himself woke before the man came into his 
 room with his clothes and hot water. He opened his 
 eyes with a sense that something was to happen, and 
 though his next thoughts were regretful, there was 
 enough novelty in the prospect to make it not alto- 
 gether unpleasant. He lay awake for a few minutes, 
 thinking of the past and all his happy days at Wren- 
 tham, but thinking more of the future. He was young, 
 and though there was in his nature a poetic element 
 which made him quick to feel, yet youth and health 
 and a cheerful temper preserved him from any morbid 
 excess of depression, and he was not on the whole un- 
 happy as he threw off his bedclothes. There was a 
 blazing fire in the grate, for the nurse who had looked 
 after him as a child, and was still in the Langleys' 
 service, had come into the room an hour before and
 
 CHAP. IV GUY LANGLEY LEAVES ENGLAND 41 
 
 made it up for him, determined that ' Master Guy ' 
 should be comfortable to the last. 
 
 Half an hour later he was in the dining-room, 
 where he found the rest of the family, except his 
 mother, assembled to see the last of him. It was a 
 cold gray morning, and Guy felt little inclination to 
 eat. With the faces of his brothers and sisters about 
 him he had a sudden revulsion of feeling, and his heart 
 sank as the thought came across him : ' I wonder when 
 we shall all be here again together.' Eoland had given 
 expression to the same thought just before he came 
 down, and the remark had been received in silence. 
 
 Now, in spite of his father's cheery voice, Guy felt 
 low-spirited, and wished that it were all over. Yet 
 he lingered, sipping his tea, and shrinking from the 
 pain that he knew he must go through in his mother's 
 room, until Charles Langley looked at his watch. 'I don't 
 want to turn you out of the house,' he said, ' but I heard 
 the dog-cart come round ten minutes ago, and you 
 have not much time to say good-bye to your mother.' 
 
 Guy left the room and walked slowly upstairs. 
 He had expected a painful parting, and painful in a 
 sense it was ; but she had nerved herself to go through 
 it, and was resolved that no weakness on her part 
 should make matters harder for him. He was con- 
 scious of a feeling of relief as he saw her standing 
 ready to receive him, perfectly composed, with a smile 
 on her face. ' I thought you were going off to India 
 without coming near me,* she said, as he stooped and
 
 42 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 kissed her. ' Now you must not stay long, or you will 
 miss your train. I know that new mare Harry got for 
 us takes a good deal longer to do it than old Tom 
 Brown. I hope we shall have taught her to trot by 
 the time you come back.' Then she took up a little 
 packet off her dressing-table. ' Only some of my hair, 
 Guy. I thought you would like to have it. God 
 bless you, my boy. Good-bye.' 
 
 'Good-bye, mother dear. Don't be unhappy. I shall 
 be back soon.' 
 
 She held him for a moment and looked in his face, 
 as if to fix in her mind the remembrance of every line, 
 then kissed him with a stifled sob, and let him go. 
 
 Three minutes later the wheels of Guy's dog-cart 
 were crunching the gravel at the end of the courtyard. 
 He hardly knew how he had got there ; but as he 
 drove through the gateway he looked back over his 
 shoulder and saw his father and brothers on the steps 
 under the porch, and the faces of the girls at the win- 
 dow by the side of it. 
 
 That day was a dreary one at the Hall. There was 
 a general sense of slackness, and a disinclination to 
 settle down to anything. Lady Mary did not appear 
 till lunch-time, and then she looked white and spoke 
 little. The afternoon dragged heavily, the more so 
 that most of the family had got up in the morning 
 some hours before their usual time. It was not until 
 another night had passed over that things really began 
 to go on again in their usual way.
 
 IV GUY LANGLEY LEAVES ENGLAND 43 
 
 It must be confessed that in the meantime Guy's 
 spirits were not at a very low ebb. The rapid drive 
 through the morning air was exhilarating. The new 
 mare, though a little raw, and inclined to shy and 
 break on small provocation, was a really well-bred one ; 
 and with a light cart behind her she got over the 
 ground very creditably. Guy knew and liked a good 
 horse, and it was a real pleasure to him to make the 
 little chestnut go as she should go. By the time he 
 arrived at the station they were on the best of terms, 
 and he was thinking more of her trotting than of any- 
 thing else. ' She will do, Charles,' he said to the 
 groom, as he handed over the reins and got down. 
 ' Take her home quietly. Good-bye. I shall be back 
 in England before long, I expect.' 
 
 ' Good-bye, sir. I hope you may, sir.' 
 
 The train was punctual, and Guy had not much 
 more than enough time to get his ticket and see to his 
 luggage, which had been sent on in advance. Some- 
 how he never could travel, even for a day or two, 
 without a large amount of it. He settled himself 
 comfortably in the corner seat of an empty carriage, 
 with his rug tucked round his legs, and early as it was 
 lit a long cigar. Having fairly started it he sat back 
 with a sigh of contentment, and began to think. 
 
 Naturally his mind soon reverted to his mother 
 and her farewell. His eyes softened as he pictured 
 her standing in her room, as he had last seen her. 
 * Dear old mother,' he thought, * how plucky she was.'
 
 44 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 Then he remembered the packet she had given him, 
 and felt hastily in his pocket for it. He found it and 
 took it out, and put it away in his dressing-case. 
 That done he sat back again, and his thoughts gradu- 
 ally drifted away to other matters. Before the train 
 reached Paddington they had travelled over a great 
 variety of subjects, and on the whole with satisfaction 
 to liimself. He had every reason to be content with 
 his condition in life. He was barely four-and-twenty, 
 and in perfect health, with a large capacity for enjoy- 
 ment, and nothing to prevent his taking full advantage 
 of it. Compared with some of the other men in the 
 regiment he was not well off; but one of his father's 
 sisters had left him two hundred a year, and his father 
 allowed him a similar sum, so that he could count on 
 four hundred a year besides his pay. This was not 
 wealth, but with care he could make it do. At the 
 present moment he had in his dressing-case his father's 
 cheque for a sum which would pay off all he owed 
 and leave him a good balance in hand to start with. 
 He liked the best of everything, and he had the in- 
 stinctive open-handedness of the English gentleman ; 
 but he was not extravagant and rarely wasted money. 
 He could therefore live in his regiment without dis- 
 comfort. Good-looking and popular and heartwhole, 
 with no serious cause of sorrow or self-reproach in his 
 past life, how could he help being happy ? Happy he 
 was, and looked, as he stepped out on the platform at 
 Paddington, and proceeded to gather his effects together
 
 IV GUY LANGLEY LEAVES ENGLAND 45 
 
 with the help of a porter, who had marked through the 
 window his good-tempered face and generally prosper- 
 ous appearance, and had at once set him down as 
 ' good for a bob/ 
 
 The next few hours were spent in town. He had 
 still to make one or two purchases to complete the 
 outfit which he thought necessary for a residence in 
 the East ; and there were some solemn parting words 
 to be said to the tailor and bootmaker whom he could 
 not hope to see again for months or years. These and 
 other farewell visits over, he made his way to Water- 
 loo, and the same evening he found himself once more 
 seated at the regimental mess. 
 
 Two or three days later Guy was standing on tbe 
 quarter-deck of the Ganges, one of our Indian troopers, 
 watching the English coast disappear in the haze as 
 the great ship steamed away down channel towards 
 the open sea. She bore away with her the Thirtieth 
 Lancers, five hundred strong, and some drafts for other 
 regiments, and a few stray officers who were going out 
 to rejoin their several corps in India.
 
 CHAPTEE Y 
 
 THE THIRTIETH LANCERS 
 
 The Thirtieth Lancers was one of the most popular 
 regiments in the service. Colonel Aylmer, who was 
 taking it out to India, had the reputation of being an 
 excellent commanding officer. Though a comparatively 
 young man, little more than forty, he was by no means 
 a young soldier. When a boy he had served in the 
 Crimea, and had even then distinguished himself by 
 his coolness and courage. Afterwards he had seen 
 service in the Indian Mutiny and in China. He wore 
 several medals and decorations, and among them the 
 one which every true soldier covets above all — the 
 Cross ' for valour.' He had won it in the dark days 
 of 1857, by riding single-handed at a knot of native 
 troopers who, in the confusion of a surprise, had sur- 
 rounded and almost despatched an English officer. 
 Colonel Aylmer was a fine -looking man, spare and 
 soldierly, with a peculiarly attractive face and courteous 
 manner. His heavy moustache and close- cropped hair 
 were hardly touched with gray; and when in the 
 saddle, with his easy seat and upright youthful figure,
 
 CHAP. V THE THIRTIETH LANCERS 47 
 
 he looked the model of a sabreur. As a cavalry leader 
 he had few equals. He knew exactly what horsemen 
 could do and what they could not do, and was as 
 careful as he was bold. 
 
 The senior Major, ^ Bob ' Dangerfield, was a man of 
 good abilities, and an exceptionally sound judge of a 
 horse, but rather too heavy for a cavalry soldier. He 
 was not however a bad officer, and he was popular in 
 the regiment, for he was open-handed and. good- 
 natured. If he had been a little less fond of good 
 living, and a little slighter about the waist, he would 
 have been more efficient, but you cannot have every- 
 thing. The junior Major was a big fighting English- 
 man, of the heavy dragoon type, with a huge yellq^ 
 moustache and a bald head, which gave him rather a 
 German look. He rode as no man of his size and 
 weight has a right to ride ; and he was generally 
 known as the Baby. He was a merry companion, and 
 champagne seemed to have no more effect upon him 
 than water. 
 
 The Adjutant of the Thirtieth was perhaps the 
 keenest soldier in the regiment. Succeeding to an 
 earldom before he was out of long clothes, he had set 
 aside the appeals of his mother and friends and insisted 
 upon entering the army. He was now one of the 
 smartest Adjutants the Thirtieth had ever had, con- 
 versant with every detail of his profession, and an 
 enthusiastic cavalry man, convinced that British horse- 
 men well led could do anything in the world, from
 
 48 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 riding down unbroken infantry to boarding an ironclad. 
 The men, who always love a lord when he is at all 
 lovable, and often when he is not, idolised Lord 
 Enleigh and would have followed him anywhere. His 
 brother officers liked him too, but some of them were 
 a little inclined to vote him a nuisance, and to sneer at 
 his enthusiasm which was a rebuke to themselves. 
 Some of the wilder spirits too resented the extreme 
 courtesy and gentleness of his manner, which perhaps 
 savoured a little of affectation. 
 
 Of the other Captains the two whom Guy Langley 
 knew best were St. Orme and Beresford. The first, 
 St. Orme, looked and spoke as if he had stepped from 
 a novel of Dumas. He was a tall, rather loosely built 
 man, who wore his fair moustache fiercely twisted 
 upwards, and affected in all respects the manners and 
 conversation of the typical hussar. Both men and 
 women liked him, for his magnificent swagger was in 
 no way offensive, and it was known to be accompanied 
 by the reckless courage which belonged to the part. 
 St. Orme did not profess to have deeply studied the 
 science of war. That, he would tell you in a fine deep 
 voice, rolling his r's, and speaking from the back of 
 his throat, was all infernal nonsense. The British 
 cavalry in old days had not learned to fight by reading 
 books. Then he would swagger away, showing a great 
 deal of cuff and collar, with his trousers ostentatiously 
 turned up, as was then the fashion. Some people did 
 not take St. Orme quite seriously, thinking that the
 
 V THE THIRTIETH LANCERS 49 
 
 cuffs and the collar and the rest of the properties were 
 the whole man. In this they were wrong, for he was 
 a fine fellow. His ' get up ' was merely a correct and 
 necessary portion of the performance. George Beres- 
 ford, generally known as ' Berry,' was an Irishman, or 
 rather what the Irish of the present day would call 
 one of the English garrison. His laughing eyes were 
 very blue indeed, and his face was burnt by constant 
 exposure to a deep brick -red. He had a strong though 
 hardly an elegant seat on horseback, and gave promise 
 of turning out a bold and capable soldier when his 
 natural daring and dash should be regulated by experi- 
 ence. Berry had begun his career in an infantry 
 regiment, but had eventually induced his father to let 
 him exchange into the cavalry. He explained that he 
 really could not * march.' If a fellow had been in- 
 tended to march he would have been given four legs. 
 The argument was a little confused, but it served its 
 purpose, and before long Berry was one of the cheeriest 
 spirits in the Thirtieth Lancers. 
 
 One of the subalterns, Denham, was Guy Langley's 
 special aversion, and the most unpopular man in the 
 regiment. How he came to get into the Thirtieth no 
 one knew, and it was not easy to understand why he 
 had entered the service at all. He was dark and 
 slight, more like an Italian than an Englishman in 
 appearance, and extremely reserved. No one ever 
 heard Denham speak of his people, though, as a matter 
 of fact, he had nothing to conceal. He held himself 
 
 VOL. I E
 
 50 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 apart, making no intimate friends, and giving no one 
 the right to treat him with familiarity. In his way he 
 was a good officer, cool and ready on parade, and 
 thoroughly versed in the ordinary duties of his profes- 
 sion. So far as his work was concerned, he rarely laid 
 himself open to criticism, or failed to do well whatever 
 was required of him. He was a beautiful horseman, 
 and one of the best steeplechase riders in the army. 
 Yet Denham was essentially unpopular, both with 
 officers and men. The former never felt that they 
 knew him better than at first, and they resented his 
 reserve and cynicism. The latter, though he never 
 lost his temper with them, disliked him cordially. 
 They felt that he despised them, as indeed he did. 
 He regarded the' British soldier as a drunken brute, 
 and the feeling showed very plainly through his level 
 manner. Denham had never owned a dog, and never 
 touched one if he could help it. He said dogs were 
 dirty, as they doubtless are. Curiously enough he 
 was not unpopular with women. He seemed to interest 
 them, and they admired his dark eyes and swarthy 
 skin. Perhaps his apparent indifference to their 
 beauty attracted them. He could dance well, when 
 he chose, which he rarely did. 
 
 A strong contrast to Denham was little Hugh 
 Dale, one of the junior subalterns and Guy's insepar- 
 able companion. They had been gazetted to the 
 Thirtieth within a few months of each other. ' Chimp,' 
 as they called him at Harrow for obvious reasons.
 
 V THE THIRTIETH LANCERS 51 
 
 was short but strongly built, with a plain face which 
 no one could help liking. It was a bright and 
 thoroughly honest face, with good brown eyes and 
 white teeth, and a keen merry expression. Physically 
 Chimp was 'good all round.' Hard and quick, and 
 practically in constant training, for he rarely drank 
 and never smoked and was always on his legs. Chimp 
 could probably have thrashed any man in the regi- 
 ment. He could jump very nearly his own height ; 
 and could run in very fair time any distance from a 
 hundred yards to a mile. He was an exceptionally 
 pretty bat, without much reach, but with a good eye 
 
 and great quickness and pluck. It was very hard 
 
 • 
 indeed to bowl him, and if once he got set and began 
 
 hitting, the other side had a bad time of it. In the 
 field he was equally useful, a smart point, and not bad 
 at the wicket, worth having anywhere. He could 
 bowl too to a certain extent. In fact, there was 
 nothing in the way of athletic exercises that came 
 amiss to him. He could ride of course, not very 
 scientifically perhaps, but very hard and straight. 
 Chimp's two main characteristics were keenness and 
 pluck. He was always ready to do anything, and he 
 would go till he dropped. His weakest point was his 
 language. It was the language of a boy, and alto- 
 gether too simple for the expression of complex 
 emotions. He disliked books, though he was by no 
 means wanting in practical brains. Finally, he was a 
 thorough little gentleman in his feelings and an almost
 
 52 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 universal favourite. His two great objects of admira- 
 tion and love were his father and Guy Langley. The 
 former was an ofi&cer who had once commanded the 
 Thirtieth, and was still well known to the regiment. 
 He was a rich man, and almost alone in the world, 
 so that his son was kept well supplied with money, 
 which he spent royally to the old General's entire 
 satisfaction. 
 
 The other subalterns of the Thirtieth were in their 
 several ways a delightful set of boys, of the usual 
 pattern. Who does not love the British subaltern ? 
 Is there, on the whole, anything in the world to equal 
 him ? As wild as a hawk, but so full of good feeling 
 and honour, and so gloriously reckless of life and limb. 
 Our officers are better than any other officers in the 
 world if we only would believe it. They cannot help 
 beins^ so. There is no material in creation like the 
 English boy. 
 
 As for the men, the Thirtieth had in 1876 a large 
 number of old soldiers, and the discipline was admir- 
 able. Lancers always look well, for their uniform and 
 their arm are greatly in their favour, but the Thirtieth 
 looked better than most. The men were perhaps a 
 little big for rough work ; but they were steady and 
 smart on parade ; and altogether it was a beautiful 
 regiment, and certain in Colonel Aylmer's hands to 
 distinguish itself if sent on active service. Throughout 
 all ranks there was a feeling of content, of respect for 
 their commanding officer, and of pride in their corps.
 
 V THE THIRTIETH LANCERS 53 
 
 There were not many ladies with the regiment 
 when it sailed for India, but there were two or three 
 of marked individuality. 
 
 Mrs. Aylmer, the Colonel's wife, was almost as 
 much liked as her husband, and rather more feared. 
 She was a few years younger than he was ; small and 
 slight, with steady gray eyes and a low forehead, from 
 which the hair was brushed off in a thick smooth wave. 
 Mrs. Aylmer was always perfectly dressed, and her 
 manners were those of a gentlewoman born and bred. 
 She feared no living thing, and was an uncompromising 
 opponent, but a most warm and loyal friend. A truer 
 woman never stepped ; but she expected you to be 
 quite honest with her. Anything approaching di^ 
 honesty or cowardice she met with a quiet but undis- 
 guised contempt which was extremely disconcerting. 
 The Aylmers had one child, a daughter about six years 
 of age, who would have been hopelessly spoilt if 
 universal petting could have spoilt her. She was a 
 pretty child, with her father's light brown hair and 
 blue eyes, but she had inherited or caught from her 
 mother a certain directness and self-possession of 
 manner which in so small a person were odd and 
 captivating. Mrs. Aylmer was the only person who 
 kept her in order. 
 
 Mrs. Dangerfield was a strikingly handsome woman 
 in a rather animal way, with large dark eyes, red 
 lips, and a faultless figure, and a very merry wit. 
 There had been something a little doubtful about her
 
 54 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 past life, and though society had now agreed to over- 
 look it, she was made to feel in numberless little ways 
 that her antecedents were not altogether forgotten by 
 her lady friends. The best of them were not intimate 
 with her, and the others were occasionally unpleasant. 
 Naturally enough she preferred the society of men, 
 who were more charitable and less particular. With 
 them she was a favourite, and not without reason ; 
 for she was bright and good-looking, and though 
 perhaps a little canaille she had a good heart. Men 
 always like that combination of qualities : the women 
 who are ' pretty and witty, wild, and, yet too, gentle.' 
 Mrs. Dangerfield rarely if ever spoke unkindly of 
 others, even of those who had treated her badly. For 
 an intentional slight or insult she would retaliate by 
 some act of open warfare which generally left her with 
 the balance in her favour. That done the matter was 
 forgotten or at least forgiven, until some fresh pro- 
 vocation was offered. She was perfectly reckless of 
 appearances, but capable of behaving properly when 
 she thought it desirable to do so; and even at her 
 worst you could hardly say that she was unladylike. 
 Hers was a wild untamed nature, in which the animal 
 qualities predominated over the intellectual ; but she 
 was not vulgar. 
 
 Mrs. Stewart, the wife of one of the senior Captains, 
 was a woman of an altogether different stamp. She 
 was handsome too, in a picturesque style, with volu- 
 minous plaits of copper -coloured hair, and a com-
 
 V THE THIRTIETH LANCERS 55 
 
 plexion of unusual purity, which was rendered all the 
 more striking by a very white and even row of teeth. 
 Women said she painted, which was malicious, and 
 men were a little afraid of her. She read a good deal, 
 and was fond of talking about literature. Stupid men 
 jeered, and said it was all humbug, that she only read 
 up reviews. Some of the clever men thought her 
 ' metallic' She was an entertaining companion, with 
 an acute sense of the ludicrous and a rather quick 
 tongue, but by no means devoid of softer qualities. 
 Between her and Mrs. Dangerfield there was an armed 
 truce. They had met in open fight more than once, 
 and were not close friends ; but as opponents they 
 respected one another. Mrs. Stewart had far more 
 skill of fence ; but, as a rule, Mrs. Dangerfield fairly 
 rode her down. Now Mrs. Stewart avoided provoking 
 Mrs. Dangerfield to conflict, and Mrs. Dangerfield 
 never attacked any one who let her alone; so that 
 they generally met and parted peacefully. 
 
 With the ladies as well as with his brother officers 
 and his men Guy Langley was popular. It was no 
 wonder altogether that he loved his regiment, and felt 
 satisfied with life. ' Ajprds tout' he used to say, with 
 Voltaire, ' apHs tout, c'est un monde passable.'
 
 CHAPTEE VI 
 
 OUTWARD BOUND 
 
 The Ganges was a fine vessel, though not a fast one; 
 and if the life on board was somewhat monotonous, it 
 was not altogether disagreeable or uninteresting. 
 
 In 1876 England had not established herself 
 in Egypt as she has since done; but even then an 
 Englishman had good cause to be proud of our great 
 highway to the East, guarded by its chain of fortresses. 
 It warmed one's heart to come upon them, one after 
 another: Gibraltar, Malta, Aden, with their towering 
 batteries and crowded ships, and to see everywhere the 
 familiar red coats, and flying out above them the brave 
 old Union Jack. 
 
 A man does not know what England is until he 
 leaves England. Then by degrees, if he has in him 
 any power of thought and feeling, his eyes are opened, 
 and it comes home to him as it never did before that 
 he has a right to hold his head very high. The howls 
 of party fight grow fainter and fainter, until they no 
 longer vex the ear ; the little angry politicians are 
 seen no more ; and in their place, from the mist and
 
 CHAP. VI OUTWARD BOUND 57 
 
 the foam of the northern seas, there rises a majestic 
 form with calm and fearless eyes : England, the mother 
 of empires. 
 
 To Guy Langley the voyage was a revelation. He 
 had started for India thinking very little of these 
 things ; but his was a nature which could not remain 
 insensible to the meaning of all he saw; and long 
 before he reached Indian waters it dawned upon him 
 that he had hitherto been strangely ignorant and 
 indifferent. A few chance words first aroused him 
 from his carelessness. 
 
 Among the officers on board was a Major Eussell 
 of the Engineers, a man of striking presence, very tall 
 and powerfully built, with dark grave eyes, and a 
 reserved but courteous manner. He had distinguished 
 himself both on service and at the Staff College, and, 
 though only a few years older than Guy, had already 
 gained a high reputation as a scientific soldier. 
 
 One fine calm morning, about a week after their 
 start, the Ganges was gliding over a quiet sea, moved 
 only by the rolling lines of the ground-swell. Guy was 
 sitting on deck, half asleep in an easy-chair, with a 
 novel in his lap, when Eussell's hand was laid on his 
 shoulder. ' Do you know where we are, Langley ? ' 
 
 Guy looked up, rather surprised at the question. 
 ' No, I don't, Major. Are we anywhere in particular ? ' 
 
 Eussell was standing by the ship's side, looking 
 away to the northward. ' There is Trafalgar,' he said, 
 as he pointed towards the blue line of the Spanish
 
 58 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 coast. For a few seconds he was silent, then he went 
 on : ' We must be close to wdiere the fight was, a little 
 south of it, and everything must have looked just as 
 it does now. Do you remember ? It was a calm day, 
 about this time of year, or a little later, with a long 
 smooth swell, and hardly a breath of wind. The 
 French and Spaniards were lying out there to the 
 right, more than thirty men-of-war, and we came 
 slowly down upon them from the westward, with just 
 breeze enough behind us to fill our topsails, and drove 
 right through their line. What a fight it must have 
 been ! Sixty men-of-war pouring their broadsides into 
 each other, and often so close that their yard-arms 
 crossed. Isn't it hard to realise that all that was 
 going on here, and only seventy years ago ? The 
 world seems to have changed so completely. Some of 
 the sunken ships must be lying there still, perhaps 
 under our very feet. What would one give to have 
 seen such a day ? ' 
 
 Guy Langley stood gazing at the smooth blue sea, 
 carried away by the strong feeling in Eussell's voice 
 and manner, and trying to picture the scene to him- 
 self. After a time he broke out. ' We may live to 
 see it yet. We are bound to fight the French again 
 some day, and we shall thrash them as we always have 
 done. They never could stand up to us.' 
 
 Eussell turned, and the pensive retrospective look 
 died out of his face. ' That is a fine old theory, but 
 I don't know that it is altogether a sound one, or a
 
 VI OUTWARD BOUND 59 
 
 safe one. They stood up to us well, even at Trafalgar, 
 poor fellows. It was not simply superior courage that 
 beat them.' 
 
 Guy looked incredulous. ' What was it, then ? ' 
 
 ' Training chiefly, I think. We had been blockad- 
 ing their ports for years, and our ships' crews were 
 thoroughly seasoned, while theirs were made up largely 
 of landsmen. Of course we could manoeuvre much 
 more smartly than they could. And our gunners 
 served their guns faster, and shot straighter, so that 
 they suffered much more than we did.' 
 
 ' I don't like to think our victories were all owing 
 to that sort of thing,' Guy said. 
 
 'I don't say they were. I believe our men have 
 more fighting devil in them, somehow. But it is as 
 well to look at these things fairly, and not to run the 
 chance of deceiving ourselves as the Trench did a few 
 years ago. Besides, we have every reason to be proud 
 of being better seamen and better gunners.' 
 
 Guy did not look satisfied. Eussell laughed. 
 ' You don't agree,' he said ; ' you prefer the old way of 
 putting it — 
 
 " Two skinny Frenchmen, one Portuguee. 
 One jolly Enghshman will lick 'em all three." 
 
 Well, of course pluck is the best foundation in the 
 world, and I believe we have got it as no one else has. 
 All I mean is, that it does not do to trust to pluck 
 alone. You may win that way now and then, at a 
 heavy cost, but three times out of four the men who
 
 6o HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 have been trained to play the game will beat you, as 
 they would beat you at cricket or football.' 
 
 ' Of course you are right, Major/ Guy answered ; 
 'but one likes to think our fellows are better in 
 themselves.' 
 
 ' I don't say they are not. I believe they are. All 
 I mean is that we must not rely on that and neglect 
 the rest. What happened to the Erench in 1870 is 
 a terrible warning. I can't help feeling uncomfortable 
 when I think how near we have been sometimes to 
 ruinous disasters. We have had luck with us as well 
 as pluck, and luck may change.' 
 
 Then he was silent again. He was thinking of the 
 miserable rabble of French troops he had seen on the 
 Swiss border when Bourbaki retreated before the 
 Germans. 'No, we could never come down to that,' 
 he said to himself. 
 
 Guy had gone back to Trafalgar. He was trying 
 to remember what he had read about the fight, and to 
 imagine the great battle-ships lifting slowly forward 
 with the swell, their bows going up like the bows of 
 the Ganges, as the long smooth waves rolled away in 
 front of them towards the line of the enemy's broad- 
 sides. ' Didn't Nelson go in for cutting their line ? ' 
 he asked. 'I do not quite see how that acted. It 
 always seems odd to me that we beat the French on 
 shore by fighting in line against their column, and 
 beat them at sea by fighting in column against their 
 line.'
 
 VI OUTWARD BOUND 6i 
 
 The idea had never before clearly presented itself 
 to Guy's mind, but conversation brings one's thoughts 
 to a point, particularly if one is inclined to be an in- 
 dolent thinker. 
 
 'That has struck me too/ Eussell answered. 'I 
 believe the reason was simply want of training. If 
 the French ships and guns had been properly handled, 
 they would have destroyed the heads of our columns 
 at sea just as our well-trained infantry destroyed the 
 heads of their columns on shore ; but their fire was 
 comparatively harmless, so we were able to get to close 
 quarters without suffering much, and then to rake 
 them horribly in going through, and to split up their 
 line into separate fragments. That is what the French 
 say themselves. I expect Nelson only attacked !n 
 that formation because he knew he could take liberties. 
 All the more credit of course to his generalship. But 
 if the French, instead of being merely brave men, had 
 been trained to fight their ships properly, he could not 
 have done it. We could not have attacked an American 
 fleet like that.' 
 
 * An American fleet ! Do you believe in the 
 Yankees ? ' 
 
 ' Don't you ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know much about them, but I can't say I 
 admire them. Those I have met seemed to me in- 
 fernally vulgar and bumptious.' 
 
 ' Some of them are vulgar of course. It's a country 
 where one can rise rapidly. But I am always sorry to
 
 62 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 hear Englishmen abuse Americans. They are our own 
 flesh and blood, and it seems to me that we ought to 
 be very proud of them ; we soldiers particularly.' 
 
 ' Why ? Of course they are a big nation, because 
 they have lots of room to grow in, but what have they 
 ever done except grow, and swagger ? ' 
 
 Tight. They have shown the world what war 
 means with men of Enolish race on both sides.' 
 
 ' You mean in their civil war ? I never read much 
 about it : I was a small boy when it happened ; but 
 I always thought it was a case of two armed mobs.' 
 
 'No doubt they were not highly trained troops 
 when they began ; but look at the pluck and endurance 
 they showed. I don't believe any other troops in the 
 world except our own would have stood up against 
 such awful losses. Look at Gettysburg, for instance, 
 where there were fifty thousand men killed and 
 wounded, a full quarter of the total numbers engaged, 
 or the last campaign against Eichmond, when Grant 
 lost one hundred thousand men. I believe I am 
 right in saying that altogether the North put a million 
 and a half of men into the field; and that more 
 than a quarter of a million, one man in six, were 
 killed or died in hospital. The South probably lost 
 quite as many out of a smaller total.' 
 
 ' I never realised that there was anything like that. 
 
 'But there was. And nine out of ten on both 
 sides were men of our own blood. Isn't that some- 
 thing to be proud of ? '
 
 vi OUTWARD BOUND 63 
 
 ' They hate us now. They would not thank you 
 for calling them English.' 
 
 ' I know that. Of course they think they have 
 improved on the old stock ; and I am afraid they don't 
 love us. They were very sore with us during the 
 war. It was not fair, I think, but it was natural 
 enough. We were ignorant and careless ; and the 
 North thought we encouraged rebellion, and the South 
 thought we did not sympathise with them in their 
 fight for freedom. I hope the soreness will disappear 
 in time; and whether it does or not, that makes no 
 difference. Even if they hate us, I can't help being 
 proud of them. They belong to our race, and they are 
 a grand nation.' 
 
 ' I suppose they are in some ways ; I never thought 
 of it in that light. But they always behave badly to 
 us. They tried to stab us in the back when we were 
 fighting Napoleon ; and they always back up the Irish 
 against us.' 
 
 ' Our own parties use the Irish against each other, 
 and always did. You can't expect the Americans to 
 care more for us than we do for ourselves. Besides, 
 they know they will have to deal with the Irish 
 question themselves some day. It is only natural 
 they should shelve it at our expense as long as they 
 can.' 
 
 'It may be natural, Major; it isn't nice, in the 
 way they do it.' 
 
 ' Well, I don't mean to say the Yankees always
 
 64 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 behave well to us. I don't think they do. But we 
 must get to look beyond our own island. It can't hold 
 us all; and anyhow those of us who have the good 
 luck to remain in it ought not to regard as aliens those 
 who live elsewhere, and to sneer at them for little 
 differences of dialect, and manner, and habits. We 
 ought to think of the English race as our own people 
 wherever they may be, from Canada to the Cape. It 
 will make us all the better Englishmen.' 
 
 As he ceased speaking Mrs. Stewart passed, looking 
 for a chair, and Eussell went off to help her. He did 
 not return, but he had set Guy thinking, and during 
 the course of the long voyage it happened more than 
 once that the two found themselves together, leaning 
 over the ship's side, and talking of various events 
 which had gone towards the making of our Empire. 
 Eussell was a well read, thoughtful man, very proud 
 of his country and jealous of her honour. His influence 
 upon Guy was in all respects a good one. It did 
 something to widen his sympathies, and remove from 
 his mind the narrow prejudices of the stay-at-home 
 Englishman. He began to understand that the men 
 whose names were familiar to him were many of them 
 mere political gladiators, who served to keep the mob 
 amused while the real work of the race was being 
 done. It came home to him that generation after 
 generation, while statesmen had been wrangling and 
 reviling one another, and carrying on their eternal 
 struggle for place and powder, millions of Englishmen
 
 VI OUTWARD BOUND 65 
 
 all over the world, regardless of party squabbles and 
 party cries, had been steadily bearing forward the 
 English flag. So it has been, and so it is still. They 
 colonise America and Australia and New Zealand, and 
 conquer India, and explore Africa, so that the English 
 tongue is heard and the English flag is seen in every 
 quarter of the globe. They are a heterogeneous force ; 
 peers and ploughmen, soldiers and sailors, merchants 
 and magistrates, squatters and parsons, women and 
 children ; and they fight loosely, without much com- 
 bination, and suffer heavy losses. Their graves are 
 everywhere ; the earth and the sea are full of their dead. 
 Many of their countrymen who stay comfortably at 
 home are too ready to believe evil of them, to lecture 
 and condemn them on the smallest evidence, or on none 
 at all, to impede them in their work, to support against 
 them any man of another colour, even at times to look 
 on with indifference while they are fighting for their 
 lives ; but the English flag goes forward nevertheless, 
 and with it, into all the dark places of the earth, go 
 freedom and order and justice. 
 
 Guy Langley began to understand it all before the 
 Ganges had finished half her voyage, and his Colonel 
 remarked that he was taking an interest in these 
 things. ' I like that boy,' Aylmer said to his wife. 
 'He has more in him than most fellows of his age. 
 He thinks, and he is a gentleman.' 
 
 Mrs. Aylmer put her work down on her lap, and 
 sat looking out over the sea. It used to vex her 
 
 VOL. I F
 
 66 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 sometimes to see how quickly Guy's moods seemed to 
 change : how, for example, he would turn in a moment 
 from a quiet conversation with her or her husband, in 
 which he had been talking ' so nicely,' to a rather 
 noisy chaffing match with Mrs. Dangerfield. She 
 wondered whether one could quite depend upon him. 
 
 Some doubt of the kind she now expressed. Aylmer 
 rebuked her in his gentle way. ' I think that is rather 
 hard, wife. He is very young, and has high spirits. 
 You would not wish him to be always serious.' 
 
 'No, dear. I suppose I am uncharitable. He is a 
 nice boy.' 
 
 Nevertheless the doubt recurred and remained, and 
 Guy with his quick perception detected it, and felt 
 hurt at it. He knew that he had many moods, but 
 he would never admit to himself that this implied any 
 lightness of feeling. He could honestly sympathise up 
 to a certain point with totally different characters and 
 lines of thought. That was all. Perhaps he was 
 right. A quick sense of humour, and a tolerant 
 spirit, which are commonly found together, may at 
 times cause an honest man to be somewhat hardly 
 judged by those whose minds are made of less flexible 
 stuff. 
 
 One morning towards the end of October at day- 
 light the Ganges cast anchor in Bombay harbour. The 
 screw had hardly ceased to revolve when all on board 
 were stirring ; and soon the decks were covered with 
 men.
 
 VI OUTWARD BOUND 67 
 
 Weary of their long confinement, all alike hailed 
 with pleasure the sight of the Indian coast, and longed 
 for the hour of landing. In the meantime, however, 
 there was plenty to see. The wide bay full of shipping 
 and small native craft ; the fine buildings of the town ; 
 the low shore fringed with palms ; the blue hills in the 
 distance ; the cloudless sky, in which the night mists 
 were rapidly melting away under the influence of the 
 rising sun and cool morning breeze ; all combined to 
 make up a very pleasant picture. 
 
 Guy Langley was one of the first on deck, and he 
 stood for a time alone, leaning over the ship's side. 
 To a man of his temperament there was something of 
 poetry in the first sight of India, the land of adventure 
 and romance of which he had read so much. 'A 
 momentary feeling of annoyance came over him as the 
 silence was broken by Dale's cheery voice. 
 
 ' By Jingo ! that's a stunning view,' the boy said as 
 he walked up, looking as usual aggressively fresh and 
 clean ; ' we shall be off this beastly old tub before long 
 now.' 
 
 Guy's dreams broke up, and he turned slowly round 
 and looked at his friend. A smile came over his face, 
 but he spoke rather reproachfully, and both smile and 
 voice had in them an unintentional touch of contempt. 
 ' Eum beggar you are, Chimp. That's " India's coral 
 strand." I don't believe you ever think.' 
 
 Chimp was nettled and answered hotly. * Yes, I 
 do. I think just as much as any one else ; only I am
 
 68 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 not always talking rot about things.' Then he re- 
 covered his temper and laughed. ' Anyhow, we'll have 
 a jolly good time on India's coral strand ; won't we, old 
 chap ? ' 
 
 Guy assented, and they were soon in conversation 
 about the doings of the coming day. 
 
 What a hot day it was ! Bombay is always hot, 
 even in November — hot with a soft, damp, sticky heat 
 which is very infuriating. Sit near a window un- 
 dressed in the sea breeze, and it is bearable ; but put 
 on a shirt and collar, or pack a box, and life becomes a 
 burden. To an Englishman fresh from Europe, the 
 heat is not so trying as it is to the old Indian. For 
 the former there is at all events something of novelty 
 in the sensation. But even to new arrivals it is not 
 pleasant. Go into a greenhouse heated up to 90°, you 
 who have never seen the East, and imagine how you 
 would like to live and work in it. That is Bombay in 
 the ' cold weather ' ; happily it is not much worse in 
 the hot. 
 
 The baggage was landed during the day, and the 
 men in the afternoon. Then came the long railway 
 journey, first through the magnificent gorges of the 
 mountain range which fringes the coast, and afterwards 
 through the tamer but still novel and beautiful scenery 
 of the great central plateau of India. The Thirtieth, 
 however, did not see much of it, for they travelled at 
 night only, spending the day at the various rest-camps. 
 They were heartily glad, one and all of them, when
 
 VI OUTWARD BOUND 69 
 
 one morning at the end of October, in a cool pleasant 
 climate very different from the climate of the coast, the 
 train drew up by the side of the long stone-flagged 
 platform at Syntia, and they knew they were at last 
 at their journey's end.
 
 CHAPTEE VII 
 
 SYNTIA 
 
 Cavalky cannot be quartered on precipitous mountain- 
 sides, and Syntia, like all cavalry stations, was there- 
 fore in the ' Plains ' ; but the plains of India afford a 
 great variety of scenery and climate, from the arid 
 deserts of stone and sand which lie along the north- 
 west frontier to the moist, densely wooded flats of 
 Bengal and the fine plateaux of Malwa and the Deccan. 
 Syntia was situated in the midst of a rolling well- 
 timbered district at a considerable height above the 
 sea. 
 
 During the summer months the place was hot 
 enough. From March to June the dry west wind 
 blew steadily throughout the day. At this season the 
 country looked very parched. The sky became a dull 
 yellow ; the trees were covered with dust ; and the 
 earth was brown and cracked, and almost bare of vege- 
 tation. Occasionally a welcome thunderstorm and 
 shower, brought up by a sudden nor'-wester, came to 
 cool the air for a few hours and wash the dust from 
 the trees ; but the next day it was as hot as before.
 
 CHAP. VII SYNTIA 71 
 
 The regimental grass-cutters were sometimes hard pushed 
 to find fodder for their horses. Yet somehow, morning 
 after morning, as the sun grew hot, they might be seen 
 returning to cantonments, their little gaunt ponies 
 staggering under great loads of the creeping doob grass, 
 laboriously collected with the aid of small curved 
 sickles. It looked terribly uninviting, half roots and 
 dust, but when it was carefully shaken and cleaned the 
 horses liked it and throve on it. Then followed the 
 monsoon. Towards the end of June the sky became 
 overcast, and the clouds gathered and darkened and 
 broke ; and the parched earth was covered with pools 
 of water ; and on every side green grass and crops 
 sprang up with magical rapidity ; and the poor half- 
 starved cattle, with their shiny ribs and pointed hip- 
 bones, grew merry and strong. The rain lasted until 
 September. Then the clouds began to lighten and 
 disperse, and there followed a month of muggy rather 
 disagreeable weather, while the sodden earth steamed 
 and dried in the autumn sun. And then the wind set 
 in from the northward, the vapours and heat fled 
 away before it, and the sky became an exquisite cloud- 
 less blue. Then the air was cool and delicious, so that 
 it was a pleasure to live ; and the flowers were bright, 
 and the trees looked fresh and beautiful as the breeze 
 rustled through their leaves, and flocks of little green 
 parrots wheeled about them at lightning speed, shim- 
 mering like winged jewels. Then in the morning the 
 horses snuffed up the dry life-giving air, and began to
 
 72 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 reach at their bits again, and to beg for a gallop ; and 
 as the turf flew away under the strokes of your big 
 Australian, and the wind whistled past your ears, you 
 felt that the world was good. Even in the hot weather 
 it was always possible for the ladies and children and 
 sick men to escape in a day or two from the sun and 
 the dust to the pines and breezes of the 'Hills.' Syntia 
 was within reach of the Himalayas. 
 
 For a man in sound health, who did not mind a 
 little heat and could exist at a distance from Pall Mall, 
 the place had its attractions. It was in the centre of 
 one of the best sporting districts in India. During 
 the cold season there were plenty of snipe and duck 
 to be got among the reed-fringed meres and flooded 
 rice-fields which lay in all directions glistening and 
 slowly shrinking under the clear blue sky. Later, as 
 the weather grew warm, the game little quail arrived 
 in countless numbers, and an early riser could have 
 many a good morning's shooting in the grain-fields and 
 the low jlww jungle which covered the broad sandy 
 bed of the neighbouring river. Twenty brace before 
 breakfast for a single gun was no extraordinary feat. 
 Before this, away to the north of the central station, the 
 night sky had begun to glow with fires, and soon the long 
 jungle grass was thinned, so that it was possible to work 
 through it, and to get a shot at the game with which 
 it swarmed : ' hog deer,' and leopards, and tiger, and 
 buffalo. Farther north again were forests where one 
 could stalk the graceful spotted deer ; and to the west
 
 VII SYNTIA 73 
 
 hills where the big sambur stags were to be found, and 
 plains which the antelope loved ; and almost anywhere 
 in the district, if there was nothing else, one could shoot 
 alligators. The great beasts lay floating on the water, 
 with the top of their heads and the end of their snouts 
 just out of it, or basking on the river-banks, printing a 
 delicate pattern of scales on the wet sand. To riding 
 men the country to the south was a paradise, for in 
 parts the pig abounded, and the ground was fairly 
 open, and with the help of a steady Arab or Waler, 
 and a hog-spear, you could enjoy such sport as England 
 knows not. Altogether, for a sportsman there were 
 few better stations in the British empire, and so Guy 
 Langley and Dale speedily concluded. The outgoing 
 regiment had entertained them at dinner the first even- 
 ing after they arrived ; and Dale, always keen for sport, 
 had found out all about it from some kindred spirits. 
 
 The society of Syntia was not large. The 'Station' 
 consisted of two clearly defined parts. At one end 
 were the cantonments, in which were quartered the 
 Thirtieth Lancers ; while at the other end, three miles 
 distant, were the ' Civil Lines,' for besides being a 
 military station Syntia was also the headquarters of a 
 civil 'Division,' or small province. 
 
 It is not usual for a regiment of British cavalry to 
 be quartered in an Indian station without other troops ; 
 but for special reasons it does occasionally happen. 
 At Syntia there were some fine old barracks and other 
 buildings which it seemed a pity to leave unoccupied.
 
 74 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 and an exceptionally good stretch of grass land. The 
 last is, or was, an absolute necessity for a cavalry regi- 
 ment in India, where horses were not fed on hay, but 
 on fresh-cut grass. Twenty miles off, at Baner, was a 
 large cantonment containing a force of all arms. 
 Practically, the Thirtieth Lancers at Syntia belonged 
 to this force, which they could join at a few hours' 
 notice ; and communication between the two places 
 was frequent, both on business and pleasure. For 
 balls, and races, and the like, the residents of one 
 place always expected to be joined by the residents of 
 the other. Nevertheless, an interval of even twenty 
 miles is an appreciable obstacle ; and for the pleasures 
 of their daily life the officers of the regiment quar- 
 tered at Syntia were mainly dependent upon themselves 
 and the Civil Station. The only military residents not 
 belonging to the Thirtieth were two young officers of a 
 native infantry detachment, which supplied a guard for 
 the Civil Treasury and other public buildings. This 
 detachment was relieved every month. 
 
 The Civil Division of Syntia was a province about 
 the size of Ireland, with a population of eight millions, 
 and was divided for executive purposes into four ' dis- 
 tricts,' corresponding to the four ' kingdoms ' of Ulster, 
 Munster, Leinster, and Connaught. In charge of the 
 whole was an English officer called a ' Commissioner,' 
 who was responsible for the maintenance of order, the 
 collection of the Government revenue, and generally for 
 the administration of the province. To help him in this
 
 VII SYNTIA 75 
 
 work, lie had in charge of each district an English 
 ' Deputy Commissioner/ who commanded the services 
 of an English police officer, and two or three English 
 assistants. There was an English judge at the head- 
 quarters of the division, who, with the help of the 
 Deputy Commissioners and their subordinates, prac- 
 tically disposed of all judicial business, civil and 
 criminal. Such is the simple framework of our empire 
 in India. There are, of course, various departments — 
 Public Works, Telegraph, Post-Office, and so on ; but 
 British India is, in fact, governed by a small number of 
 English district officers wielding very extensive powers, 
 and charged with every kind of work. Their diffi- 
 culties are increased now by over-centralisation and 
 other evil influences; but, cheered by the occasional 
 smile of the British bayonet, they still manage to kegp 
 the country in order. 
 
 Besides being the headquarters of the Division, 
 Syntia was also the headquarters of one of the dis- 
 tricts of which the Division was composed. The Civil 
 residents therefore comprised the district staff as well 
 as the divisional staff. Even so, they were not 
 numerous. 
 
 The most important person in Syntia was the 
 Commissioner of the division, Colonel Treveryan. 
 
 Since the Mutiny he had risen steadily. He had 
 found the service a disappointment in some ways ; for, 
 as India quieted down, and our methods of govern- 
 ment grew more and more regular, the soldier adminis-
 
 76 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 trators, who had been so useful and necessary in time 
 of trouble, came to be regarded as somewhat out of 
 place ; and they were in many cases superseded by 
 younger men belonging to the Civil Service, whose 
 training was possibly more suitable to the altered con- 
 dition of affairs. Looking for a career of personal rule 
 enlivened by active service, Treveryan had found him- 
 self gradually reduced to a steady grind in court and 
 office, with no chance of military work or distinction. 
 He chafed against the peaceful monotony of the life, so 
 different from what he had expected, and against the 
 centralising tendency of the authorities. The power 
 and influence of the district officers began to be 
 lowered year by year; more and more regularity of 
 form was demanded from them ; and, in Colonel Tre- 
 veryan's opinion, the country was worse ruled. N'ever- 
 theless, he did his work conscientiously, and on the 
 whole with success. Though not elaborately trained 
 in civil and judicial work, he had common sense, and 
 he rarely made a mistake of more than form ; while in 
 all practical matters his knowledge of the people and 
 their ways, and his popularity among them and ready 
 acceptance of responsibility, made him a very valuable 
 officer. He was sometimes sneered at by young gentle- 
 men who had come out to India fresh from their 
 examinations, and full of conceit in themselves and 
 their acquirements ; but he was worth more than most 
 of them would ever be. 
 
 What you want in a country like India is courage
 
 VII , SYNTIA 77 
 
 and judgment and common sense rather than technical 
 skill. In England the uncertainty of the law is prover- 
 bial ; and probably the main result of the elaboration of 
 our Indian judicial machinery has been to make justice 
 more doubtful than it was. But even supposing that jus- 
 tice had been made somewhat less doubtful, this is little 
 in comparison with other things. By bad advice given to 
 the ruler of a Native State, by ignorance of Indian ways 
 and feelings, by slurring the practical management of a 
 British district, a man may do infinitely more harm than 
 by a series of sentences which can be reversed on appeal. 
 An Indian district officer is one of a few hundred 
 Englishmen who are ruling an empire of two hundred 
 and fifty millions. He should be capable of hewing out 
 a colossus if need be ; but it matters comparatively 
 little whether he can carve cherry stones. Yet you 
 try to keep him carving cherry stones all his life ; sit- 
 ting in court or office, and submitting multitudinous 
 returns, and letting the real work go. Then he 
 suddenly finds himself facing great danger and respon- 
 sibility, perhaps surrounded by armed revolt; and 
 you expect him to stand out a heroic figure, like our 
 great men of old to whose hands the sword was as 
 familiar as the pen. The whole thing is wrong. India 
 cannot be held by clerks and lawyers. And even 
 supposing that English specialism were desirable in 
 India the country cannot afford it. You would want 
 ten times the number of men, and you cannot pay for 
 them.
 
 78 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 Next to Colonel Treveryan in the official scale was 
 Mr. Oldham, the judge. He was a quiet, retiring man, 
 of gentlemanly manners and good abilities, but weighed 
 down by the burden of a very large family. He lived 
 alone, his wife having been forced to leave him in 
 order to look after the children in England. She, poor 
 little woman, lived in Bedford, with a houseful of boys 
 and girls whom she found it difficult to manage, while 
 her husband toiled on in India to find the wherewithal 
 for food and clothing. He could not afford to take his 
 pension and retire, or to go on leave, and his life was 
 a dreary one, like the lives of many Indian officials, 
 with too much work and very few pleasures. Helen 
 Treveryan liked the gentle, silent man, with his uncom- 
 plaining ways, and she did her best to make things 
 brighter for him, but without much success. He was 
 not a sportsman, and he had no prospect of further 
 promotion in the service. He could not hope to see 
 his wife or his children for years, if ever. It was a 
 sad life, patiently borne for the sake of others. 
 
 The Deputy Commissioner of the Syntia district, 
 Montague Hunter, was a man of very different character. 
 Tall and stoutly built, with a cheery manner and 
 hearty ways and imperturbable good temper, he was a 
 general favourite. He had a constitutional dislike to 
 mounting a horse, and was rather indolent in mind and 
 body ; yet he was a useful officer, very clear-headed 
 and decided in his opinions. The natives liked and 
 respected him, and the district was in excellent order.
 
 VII SYNTIA 79 
 
 Mrs. Hunter was a pretty woman, inclined to be stout, 
 but bright and active. She danced well, and enjoyed 
 her dinner, and was given to snubbing her husband, 
 w^hom she regarded as very inferior to herself in ability. 
 The Hunters had no children, and were well off. 
 People often wondered why they stayed in India ; but 
 the fact was, that he liked the easy life and was too 
 lazy to uproot himself, and she liked it too, though she 
 had the snobbish habit of perpetually sneering at all 
 things Indian. 
 
 Then there was the Civil Surgeon, who also had 
 charge of the jail. Doctors in India seem to be 
 mostly Irish, and George Beamish was no exception 
 to the rule. He was rather rough in appearance 
 and manner, but not a bad fellow, or a worse doctor 
 than others. His wife was Irish too, with good eyes 
 and a bad mouth, and a dreadful brogue. She was 
 the mother of a considerable family, but most of 
 the children were in England. There was only one 
 with them, a troublesome young ruffian of seven, 
 whom she could not make up her mind to part with. 
 Mrs. Beamish was a good-hearted woman, but a bad 
 manager, and not a lady by birth or education. 
 
 Major MacLean, the Superintendent of Police, was, 
 like Colonel Treveryan, a military officer, who had 
 taken to civil work after the Mutiny. Bodies of 
 military police were then being organised, and 
 MacLean, a Scotchman with a taste for fighting, 
 thought he saw his chance, and left his regiment
 
 8o HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 for the command of a police corps. Very soon, as 
 the country grew quiet, the military character of 
 the corps disappeared, and MacLean found himself, 
 to his great disappointment, condemned to a career 
 for which he had no inclination whatever. It was 
 too late then to return to the army, as the military 
 authorities would not take back officers who had 
 elected for police work. Nevertheless, though dis- 
 appointed, MacLean did his duty efficiently. He 
 was a good shot and sportsman, and in his way a 
 handsome man, with a dark, resolute face and grizzled 
 hair. His greatest pleasure seemed to be whist, which 
 he played unusually well. 
 
 The clergyman of the parish, or ' Chaplain of 
 Syntia,' was one of the cheeriest men in the station, 
 always ready to join in any fun that was going, 
 and to do his best for the happiness of others. With 
 the help of Helen Treveryan and Hunter, who had 
 a good voice, and some taste for music, the Padre 
 had succeeded in raising a very respectable little 
 choir ; and his services were bright and well managed. 
 His religious views were so broad and tolerant that 
 they shocked some of his congregation, but no one 
 could doubt his earnestness and sincerity. 
 
 The European society of Syntia included also two 
 junior officers of the Civil Service, who were known 
 respectively as the Joint Magistrate and Assistant 
 Magistrate. 
 
 The former, James Anderson, was a Scotchman
 
 VII SYNTIA 8i 
 
 of a not very pleasant type. He had his good points, 
 among them a considerable power of work and some 
 courage ; but he was not a gentleman in his manners 
 or appearance. He thought a great deal of his 
 position as a member of the Covenanted Civil Service; 
 and was proud of having passed the severe com- 
 petitive examination by which the service is recruited. 
 He looked upon military men with a mixture of 
 jealousy and contempt. He dressed badly, and did 
 not shoot or ride or play any English game ; and 
 he would accept an invitation with a slow, ' Well, 
 I think I will,' which did not strike one as 
 particularly courteous. He lived on much less than 
 his pay, and without apparently meaning it, was 
 habitually rude to his wife, a harmless, rather pretty 
 little woman, who was too good for him. Anderson 
 was absorbed in his work, and was always talking 
 ' shop,' a particularly uninteresting kind of shop, full 
 of strange abbreviations and Indian technical terms. 
 He knew the ' Civil List ' by heart, and was great 
 on the subject of appointments and promotions. 
 Natives of India disliked him, and said he was 
 ' not a Sahib.' 
 
 The second of the young civil servants, Arthur 
 Goldney, was a boy just out from England. His 
 father, an officer of the Indian army, had died some 
 years before, leaving a widow and several children, 
 among whom he was the only boy. Mrs. Goldney 
 was a brave little woman, and though left with a 
 
 VOL. I G
 
 82 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 very small income, she had managed to educate her 
 family and to bring them up in decent surroundings. 
 The boy was of course a household hero from his 
 childhood, but he was too modest to be spoilt; and, 
 moreover, his mother, with all her affection, was 
 sensible, and treated him properly. He did well 
 as a ' day boy ' at Tonbridge, and to his own great 
 surprise passed for the Indian Civil Service direct 
 from the sixth at the age of eighteen. Goldney 
 was small and rather delicate-looking, with a very fair 
 skin and light brown curly hair. He was shy and 
 nervous in his manner, and had a gitlish trick of 
 blushing which caused him untold misery. Some 
 one had christened him the ' Pink 'un,' and the name 
 had stuck. The Pink 'un did his work well, and 
 was cruelly robbed by his servants. Anderson said 
 he was ' soft,' and greatly despised him. 
 
 Then there was the officer in charge of the Public 
 Works Department, Captain Lee of the Engineers. 
 He was a good-looking man and a very hard rider. 
 He had married, a year or two before, a young Irish 
 girl, with pretty eyes, and a bright, warm manner 
 which was very taking. 
 
 Practically this completed the small circle of Syntia 
 * society.' There were one or two planters in the 
 district who were occasionally seen at headquarters ; 
 and very good fellows they were in their way — hard 
 riders and pleasant companions; but, except for a 
 few days in the year, they lived away in the country
 
 VII SYNTIA 83 
 
 in their thatched bungalows, where they were always 
 ready to welcome a visitor with the most profuse 
 hospitality. There were also a few men of mixed 
 blood, who held minor posts under Government or 
 pleaded in the Courts. They and their families were 
 seen at church, and some of them at the Com- 
 missioner's ball on the Queen's birthday, but they 
 did not associate with the English residents. 
 
 And then . . . then there were the eight millions 
 of ' natives/ who stood almost wholly apart from the 
 little knot of white men. There were many gentle- 
 men of good standing in the division — nobles and 
 landowners and ofificials. These paid more or less 
 formal visits to the European district officers, and 
 some received a formal return visit. Occasionally 
 one of them gave a dance or other entertainment 
 to the European community. If it was a dinner, 
 the host came in when the eating was over, and 
 sat in a chair at some distance from the table while 
 his health was proposed and drunk. In return, the 
 Europeans generally asked the chief native residents 
 to garden-parties, and sometimes to balls, where 
 they looked very uncomfortable and out of place. 
 But, except in the case of one or two Mahometans, 
 who would accept an invitation to dinner, and one 
 or two Hindus, who played Badminton and lawn- 
 tennis, there was little social intercourse between 
 the races. Imperfect acquaintance with each other's 
 language was in itself a serious bar to such inter-
 
 84 HELEN TREVERYAN chap, vii 
 
 course, and there were other obstacles. Natives and 
 Europeans alike were more or less uncomfortable and 
 bored in each other's company. 
 
 It was not altogether a satisfactory state of things. 
 There were faults on both sides. The fault on the 
 English side was a tendency to show too little 
 politeness and consideration ; to take advantage of 
 the want of independence which characterises the 
 oriental. In a man like Treveryan this fault did 
 not exist. In a man like Anderson it was marked. 
 On the other hand, it was very difficult to become 
 socially intimate with people of totally different habits 
 and views, who thought it a disgrace for a woman to 
 be seen, and a pollution to touch your food. 
 
 Nevertheless, there was much good feeling and 
 mutual respect between the two races. A certain 
 amount of stiffness in social intercourse does not pre- 
 vent this. Some native gentlemen were greatly liked 
 by the Europeans, and in their turn they trusted their 
 English friends, and came to them freely for help in 
 all their difficulties and troubles. The district officers 
 were their natural advisers and protectors against all 
 kinds of injury, and the duty was honestly and kindly 
 performed. It was a curious state of affairs alto- 
 gether to English ideas, but the Indian Empire is in 
 all ways a marvellous structure.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 SOME MORNING CALLS 
 
 The Thirtieth Lancers had been a few days in their 
 new quarters, and were beginning to settle down, when 
 Guy Langley and Dale made their first attempt to 
 become acquainted with their fellow-countrymen in 
 Syntia. 
 
 There are two customs in India which strike a 
 newly-arrived Englishman as curious. In the first 
 place, newcomers are expected to call on the older 
 residents, who, unless for extraordinary reasons, always 
 return the call, and then take or avoid steps towards a 
 better acquaintance. In a small and peculiar society 
 like the English society of India, where, except at one 
 or two commercial ports, almost every one is a servant 
 of the State, the call and return call are in the nature 
 of ofiicial formalities. After this preliminary people 
 sort themselves ; but every one holding a certain rank 
 knows every one else as a matter of course. Secondly, 
 for no imaginable reason, the visiting hours are in the 
 extreme heat of the day, from twelve to two. Except 
 among people who know one another very well indeed
 
 86 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 an afternoon call is a discourteous exhibition of 
 'side.' 
 
 One night after dinner, having mastered these facts, 
 and obtained some information about the inhabitants 
 and the geography of the Station, the two young men 
 made up their minds to set forth on a round of visits. 
 
 Next morning, shortly before twelve o'clock, Guy 
 Langley sauntered out on to the steps of the little 
 house which he shared with Dale. He had arrayed 
 his handsome person in a light morning suit which 
 showed some creases from long confinement in a box, 
 but was as good a fit as most of Poole's masterpieces ; 
 and, on the whole, he was satisfied with the result. 
 
 The sky was cloudless, and a faint northerly 
 breeze stirred the blossoms of the purple creeper 
 which covered the pillars of the porch. Under its 
 flat roof, in front of the steps, was standing the dog- 
 cart in which they proposed to make their expedition. 
 Dale had bought it from one of the officers of the out- 
 going regiment, and was now standing on the steps 
 looking over his purchase with evident complacency. 
 It was a very light cart, with varnished woodwork, 
 rather high, but not too high for the little mare which 
 stood in the shafts, very neatly turned out in brown 
 harness with bright brass mountings. 
 
 The mare was a picture. She belonged to a class 
 which was to be found in India in those days, the 
 * stud-bred.' Horses raised in the Government breed- 
 ing establishments, if they proved unsuitable for
 
 VIII SOME MORNING CALLS 87 
 
 cavalry or artillery work, were sold to the public, 
 and very good horses they were. ' Bess ' was a good 
 specimen of the class. She stood barely fifteen hands, 
 and was certainly light; but there was no other fault 
 to be found with her. In colour she was a bright 
 bay. The beautiful head, with tapering muzzle and 
 large full eye ; the satin skin through which the net- 
 work of veins stood out ; the small foot, as hard as 
 iron ; all showed Arab blood, but Arab blood crossed 
 and improved by the blood of the English thorough- 
 bred. There was more reach and length than one can 
 find in the Arab, possibly less compactness for those 
 whose eyes are trained to the Arab shape, but a look 
 of greater stride and speed. She had a good shoulder, 
 with the higher withers and longer slope of the English 
 horse, and was almost too high in the quarters, which 
 from behind showed squarer than one would have 
 expected, though they were a little light and ragged. 
 That was perhaps partly owing to the fact that the 
 mare carried no flesh. At the moment Bess was 
 behaving in a manner characteristic of her sex. Her 
 ears were laid back, and her teeth showing, and every 
 two or three seconds the pretty fidgety head made a 
 quick snap at the man who stood in front of her. 
 Her near hind leg was up, and the glittering shoe 
 struck sharply at times upon the iron edge of the step 
 next the house door. It was all feminine nonsense, as 
 Dale well knew. Though she answered his voice by 
 a turn of the head and a series of vicious -looking
 
 88 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 snaps over her shoulder, she had never bitten any one 
 in her life ; and she would not have dreamt of kicking 
 at the step when any one's foot was on it. She was 
 impatient of restraint, and would be troublesome at 
 times if kept standing ; and the cut of a whip made 
 her furious; but she was a high-bred lady, and in- 
 capable of any vulgar tricks. 
 
 Pooran, the native groom, or syce, who had charge 
 of her, was a good fellow and very proud of the mare. 
 He had followed her when she was sold, and Dale was 
 glad to get him. Dark and slight, with a smooth face 
 and white teeth and a waist like a girl's, Pooran looked 
 and felt very smart in his tight-fitting livery of dark 
 blue cloth faced with a lighter shade of the same 
 colour. He wore a silver crest in the front of his 
 turban of intertwisted blues; and his brown legs 
 emerged, free to run, from light drawers of pinkish 
 cotton. Those thin bare legs, without a sign of calf, 
 could carry him over the ground in a very surprising 
 way. Englishmen in India do not adhere to the 
 native custom of making syces trot behind their 
 carriages; but even now these men seem to have a 
 wonderful hereditary power of running. Pooran, if 
 required, could go for an hour at a time, and finish 
 fresh and cool, having hardly turned a hair. He had 
 one slight failing : like many of his caste he was too 
 fond of drink ; but he was a good boy, and turned out 
 his mare most creditably, her skin shining with a 
 metallic lustre, and her bit as bright as the burnish
 
 VIII SOME MORNING CALLS 89 
 
 would make it. To him the mare's corn was a sacred 
 thing, not to be stolen even for his own dinner, and 
 woe came upon the grass-cutter who dared to bring 
 her bad grass. 
 
 'At last,' Dale said as Guy came out; 'I have 
 been waiting a good half -hour, and the mare has 
 kicked the trap nearly to bits. Now I would not 
 mind betting you have forgotten your cards.' 
 
 ' Get in, Chimp, and don't be childish. She wants 
 to be off.' Dale walked round to the off wheel, and 
 the two of them got up smartly, together, the mare 
 making a dash to the front directly they were along- 
 side. The boy Pooran held on to her head for a 
 second until they were fairly up ; then he let go, and 
 she went off with a bound, while he scrambled up 
 behind. The cart fairly flew down the short drive 
 and out into the road, the mare lurching up into her 
 collar in a way that must have tried the brown 
 harness. Then gradually Dale's strong little hands 
 pulled her into a regular though rather vehement trot, 
 and they went bowling down the smooth road towards 
 the Civil Station. In India, before local self-govern- 
 ment was imposed upon a wondering people, the 
 district officers knew how to keep up good roads. 
 With a centre of tough kunker conglomerate, and 
 grassy side-pieces fringed by lines of trees, these roads 
 were equally pleasant for riding and driving. The 
 mare of her own accord kept to the centre, and 
 the cart travelled fast. In less than a quarter
 
 90 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 of an hour they were at the entrance of the Civil 
 Lines. 
 
 The first house on the road was Oldham's. It was 
 a low, flat -roofed house, standing in a square grass 
 compound which was enclosed by a mud wall about 
 four feet high. One of the whitewashed pillars of the 
 gateway bore the name W. Oldham, C.S., painted on a 
 small board. The house was whitewashed also, and 
 though the grass looked dry and dusty, the general 
 effect of the white house, lying under the bright blue 
 sky, with a few mango trees about it, was not un- 
 pleasing. 
 
 The Judge Sahib was out of course, gone to his 
 Court, and they left cards for him. 
 
 Then they drove through another gateway in 
 another mud wall, to another flat -roofed house, and 
 asked for Mrs. Anderson. Mrs. Anderson was in, and 
 received them in a stiff, barely furnished drawing- 
 room with a round table in the middle. The walls 
 were painted light green and picked out at the corners 
 with a pattern in darker colour. Mrs. Anderson was 
 shy and had not much to say, and the visit soon 
 ended. Her husband was out, she said — gone to 
 cutchery, and would be so sorry to have missed them, 
 which was more polite than true. 
 
 When they came out the mare was wrenching to 
 get her head free, and she went off with a jump again. 
 She had only a few hundred yards to go before she 
 came to the house where the Hunters lived, and she
 
 VIII SOME MORNING CALLS 91 
 
 was pulled up in front of their door very unwillingly. 
 The house was smarter -looking than those already 
 visited. There were some shrubs and flower-beds in 
 front, and the gateway and drive were neatly kept. 
 Mrs. Hunter was at home, and Dale said ' Blow it ! ' 
 in a very audible voice. She was pleasant enough, 
 however, and he rather liked her. 
 
 Then the mare began to give trouble. When they 
 came out they found her pawing the ground and 
 backing, while Pooran hung on to her head and made 
 libellous remarks about her female relatives. She 
 stood still when Dale called to her, and the boys got 
 up and told Pooran to let go, but the mare did not 
 move forward. She shook her head and bored down- 
 wards at her bit, and planted her forefeet firmly. 
 Thereupon Dale was foolish enough to touch ber 
 sharply with the whip. She jumped forward with a 
 loud snort, and then began to back — rapidly this time, 
 and in such a way as to twist the cart round against 
 the steps. When she had the wheels pasted against 
 them she snorted again, defiantly, and pawed the 
 ground. Dale began to lose his temper and swear. 
 Guy was laughing gently. ' Don't be an ass. Chimp,' 
 he said, 'and don't hit her. She's not that sort' 
 Next moment he was down and at her head. She 
 snapped at him, or rather towards him, but he took 
 her by the rein close up, and petted her until she grew 
 quieter. In a minute or two she let him lead her 
 forward, throwing up her head at first, but soon giving
 
 92 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 way, though reluctantly. Then Guy got back into his 
 seat, and the mare was coaxed into a slow and pre- 
 carious trot. Finally she settled down again, and 
 when they drove through another gap in another mud 
 wall, and pulled up at the door of another flat white 
 bungalow, the ' Vicarage,' she seemed to have recovered 
 her temper. 
 
 The Padre Sahib was in, and received them warmly, 
 with offers of a brandy and soda, and conversation 
 about pig -sticking. He came out and admired the 
 mare when they left, showing a considerable know- 
 ledge of her good points. He measured her carefully 
 under the knee with his pocket-handkerchief, in spite 
 of her snapping, and rejoiced at the result ; and then 
 stood bald-headed in the sun, smiling at them as they 
 drove away. ' Nice boys,' he said, as he went back to 
 his room to write his sermon, and Dale was delighted 
 with him. ' Jolly old chap,' was his verdict. ' Pity 
 all parsons are not like that. We'll get him over to 
 dinner and give him a skinful of fizz.' 
 
 Then they left cards for MacLean and the Pink 
 'un, who had already called at the mess, and went on 
 to the Lees. Mrs. Lee was not receiving visitors that 
 day. Darwdza hund, the man said, the door is shut. 
 After that they made for the Civil Surgeon's. They 
 proposed going last of all to Colonel Treveryan's and 
 staying there to lunch if they were asked. 
 
 The way to the Doctor Sahib's house was a very 
 bad one. The house lay off the metalled road, and
 
 VIII SOME MORNING CALLS 93 
 
 was approached by a narrow lane in which the dust 
 lay six inches deep, between low mud walls topped 
 with a kind of cactus or prickly pear. Here and 
 there a tall palm or a group of feathery bamboos over- 
 shadowed the wall. The boys drove down this lane 
 until they came to a house smaller and barer and 
 dustier-looking than any of the others. There was not 
 a vestige of flower-garden ; nothing but dust and dry 
 grass. The front of the little square house had a 
 narrow piece of verandah in the middle, but no portico. 
 The plaster was hanging from the pillars of the 
 verandah, and peeling from the two steps which led 
 up to it. At one end of the verandah, on the broken 
 plaster floor, was a tin plate, with some dog-biscuit 
 sticking to the bottom. At the other end was a little 
 strip of drugget, upon which lay some unfinished 
 needlework. In the middle was a door, covered by a 
 cliih or hanging transparent mat, the straws of which 
 were broken and protruding. Above the door, nailed 
 to the whitewashed wall by a strip of skin, and hang- 
 ing rather crooked, was a very badly cured antelope's 
 head, the rough bone showing at the root of the spiral 
 horns, the ears broken, and the face gone bare in 
 patches, with some dirty cotton wool in the nostrils. 
 
 There was no servant to be seen about this dreadful 
 abode, and after calling out once or twice Dale pro- 
 posed to give it up. ' What a beastly hole,' he said. 
 ' They live in rum places out here, but this licks 
 everything. Let's leave cards on the verandah and
 
 94 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 go.' Guy agreed doubtfully, and they were about to 
 do so when they were stopped by the appearance of a 
 small boy who came round the corner of the house. 
 
 The boy was worthy of his dwelling-place. He 
 had a dirty white face and sandy hair, half-hidden by 
 a broken pith hat. His clothing consisted of a blue 
 jersey, blue serge breeches, too short for him and badly 
 frayed at the knees, and a pair of lace boots without 
 laces, above which one could just see the tops of some 
 loose wrinkled stockings. The thin white legs were 
 covered with cuts and bruises. This was young 
 George Beamish, generally known as the Limb. He 
 stopped in front of the mare and called out with an 
 accent in which the Irish brogue of his parents 
 struggled through the nasal twang of the country - 
 bred child : ' The bearer's gone to his dinner, and 
 mother says you're to come in. She'll be coming 
 directly.' 
 
 Guy and Dale looked at one another and got down, 
 and walked through the doorway, lifting the broken 
 chih. As they came into the room another door 
 opposite, from which the wind was blowing out a 
 thin red curtain, was hastily closed by some one in 
 stockinged feet. It was Mrs. Beamish, who generally 
 spent her mornings in a back verandah, clothed in her 
 dressing-gown, with her fine hair rolled into a loose 
 knot, discussing household questions with her native 
 servants. She was now dressing rapidly to receive 
 her visitors.
 
 VIII SOME MORNING CALLS 95 
 
 They sat down in the little untidy room, finding it 
 rather pleasant to be out of the sun, and the boy 
 pushed aside the chik and stood looking at them. Guy 
 saw him and called him in. He came with his hat on, 
 holding in his hand a rough wicker bird-cage, the 
 pointed top downwards. There was something black 
 inside, and Dale asked him what it was. He held it 
 up, showing a dead bat, curled into a shapeless lump, 
 and unpleasant to the senses. ' Poof, how it stinks,' 
 Dale said. 'What do you bring the disgusting thing 
 in here for ? ' The boy laughed and went out of the 
 room, as his mother came in, full of apologies for 
 keeping them waiting. 
 
 She was a good-tempered woman, with rather coarse 
 features not very clearly cut, and she spoke volubly 
 with a magnificent brogue. From the first she and 
 Dale were on familiar terms, and in a few minutes he 
 was imitating her to her face. The imitation was bad 
 of course; an Englishman, not bred in Ireland, can 
 never talk Irish; but it was impudent and obvious. 
 ' Ah ! now you're laughing at me,' she said. ' What a 
 shame ; ' but they parted the best of friends — the lady 
 seeing her guests to the door. She called the mare a 
 'beautiful harse,' and begged them to come again 
 whenever they could spare the time, and Dale pro- 
 mised freely. 
 
 As they were about to drive away they heard a 
 sharp twitter of alarm, and saw one of the little gray 
 squirrels which swarm about Indian ' compounds '
 
 96 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 throw up its tail and race along the ground towards a 
 tree, pursued 'by the Limb and a fox-terrier puppy. 
 The squirrel got safely up the trunk and lay on a 
 branch looking downwards, twittering at intervals and 
 flirting its tail up perpendicularly. Then the Limb 
 proceeded to have some sport. He had exchanged his 
 dead bat for a gaUl or pellet-bow, and he now fitted a 
 clay pellet on to the double string with an ease which 
 showed constant practice. His first shot was excellent. 
 The pellet shattered itself on the branch just under 
 the squirrel's feet, and sent the little creature scurrying 
 up the tree in terror. After that it was more wary, 
 and kept under cover, dodging rapidly from branch to 
 branch. The Limb soon grew tired of looking for it, 
 and Dale, who had been watching the sport with keen 
 interest, let the mare have her head. She was getting 
 impatient again. 
 
 As they drove towards the gate, he called out to 
 the boy with a laugh, ' What a little duffer you are. 
 You can't shoot a bit' It was a rash speech under 
 the circumstances, and it was fearfully punished. The 
 Limb saw his chance and jumped at it. ' I will shoot 
 you,' he called out with his nasal twang, and turned 
 his bow upon them. Then he changed his mind and 
 ran towards the mud wall along which they had to 
 pass on turning out of the gate. ' Look out. Chimp, 
 the little devil means it,' Guy said, and they sent the 
 mare out of the gate and down the lane at a smart 
 trot. They were just too late. The Limb knew his
 
 VIII SOME MORNING CALLS 97 
 
 ground and had them 'on toast.' They were ten 
 yards from the gate when his bare sandy head and 
 eager eyes topped the wall just ahead of them. The 
 mare shied wildly across the road, frightened by the 
 sudden apparition, and almost as she did so the bow 
 twanged and the hard clay pellet struck her fair on the 
 quarter with a crack like a pistol-shot. 
 
 How they got through the next minute or two 
 without a smash they never quite knew. As the blow 
 came the mare plunged forward with a mad snort of 
 pain and rage, then landed both heels hard against the 
 splash-board and went off at a furious gallop. As they 
 bumped along the dusty lane, they heard behind them 
 the Limb's yell of triumph, and a second pellet flew 
 over their heads. In a few seconds they were out 
 of range, but by no means out of danger, for the laije 
 was only a quarter of a mile long, and it met the road 
 at right angles. It seemed impossible that they could 
 turn the corner without an upset at the pace they 
 were going, and Dale seemed quite unable to moderate 
 it. The mare's ears were laid back touching her neck, 
 and she was galloping as if the light cart which 
 bounded behind her was no impediment whatever. 
 Nothing saved them but the mare's own good sense. 
 You could always depend upon her in a difficulty. 
 As they neared the end of the lane her ears went up, 
 and there was a falter in her stride. Before them, 
 twenty yards off, was the yellow strip of metalled 
 road, and beyond it the opposite bank. If the bank 
 
 VOL. I H
 
 98 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 had been "bare, she would probably have gone at it, for 
 there was little time to think, and she could jump 
 like a deer ; but luckily it was at this point closely 
 fringed with bamboos, and in all her excitement she 
 was not going to jump into a bamboo thicket. As 
 she came to the road she broke and tried to stop, and 
 went round the corner to the right. It was a very 
 close thing, and for a second Guy gasped as he hung 
 on to his seat. The off side lifted, and the cart came 
 spinning round on the near wheel, which whirred 
 upon the hard hunker. But it did get round, and 
 a moment later Pooran was at the mare's head, and 
 she was standing by the road-side, trembling all over 
 and bathed with sweat, her crimson nostrils dilating 
 rapidly and her eyes very wild, but in hand. 
 
 Till then Dale had been taken up with their own 
 danger, but now that it was over his thoughts recurred 
 to the cause of it, and the language that he used was 
 dreadful. Very little encouragement from Guy would 
 have sent him back to catch the child and give him 
 condign punishment. Fortunately Guy could sympa- 
 thise with the other side of the question. ' Bosh, 
 Chimp,' he said with a laugh. 'The little beggar 
 scored all round. You began it, you know. He's a 
 horrid little beast ; but it was very funny.' 
 
 'Devilish funny, I daresay; but you wouldn't 
 have laughed if you had found the cart on the top of 
 you at the corner. Little brute ! I'd like to break 
 his neck.' Dale's wrath was not decreased by seeing
 
 VIII SOME MORNING CALLS 99 
 
 a broad smile on the face of Pooran. However, to do 
 him justice, he was not vindictive, and though he 
 growled a little more it was not long before he was 
 pacified. Then they got the mare quiet and resumed 
 their road. They still had to call on Colonel Treveryan, 
 and if possible to get some lunch. 
 
 The Treveryans' house was a contrast to the one 
 from which they had just been hunted. It stood high, 
 facing to the north, in the centre of a piece of grass 
 land covering perhaps a square mile. Good roads 
 surrounded this land on all sides, and from them well- 
 kept drives, running through avenues of tall trees, led 
 to the hall door. As Guy and Dale drove through 
 the main gateway from the eastward, they passed on 
 their right a fine grove of mango trees, behind which 
 were the stables and connected buildings, while* on 
 their left was an open sward. A little farther on, 
 where the mango grove ended, they came upon a 
 covered swimming-bath, a flock of pigeons wheeling in 
 the blue sky above it. On the other side the grass 
 had given place to a garden, separated from the road 
 by a thick hedge and some flowering shrubs, and then 
 they came to the house steps. In front of the house, 
 to the north, the ground sloped down towards the 
 river, which was perhaps a mile away. Looking in 
 that direction one could see the yellow sands, from 
 which the floods of the rainy season had receded, and 
 beyond them a stretch of well-timbered undulating 
 country fading into the blue distance. Over the
 
 100 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 river and up the grassy slope came the cool dry 
 northerly breeze, just stirring the pendent white blos- 
 soms of the lofty cork trees in the avenue and sighing 
 through the feathery branches of the casuarinas about 
 the house, with a sound like the sound of a distant 
 sea. 
 
 As the dog-cart pulled up, a native servant, well 
 dressed and beautifully clean, his forehead bearing the 
 caste marks in sandalwood powder, came down the steps 
 with a low salaam, and received upon a silver waiter 
 the cards which the two young men sent in. At the 
 same time he asked them to follow him. They alighted 
 and walked up the steps into an anteroom lined with 
 book-shelves. In the centre of this room was a low 
 square ottoman heaped with cushions, while overhead 
 some canaries were singing their little hearts out as 
 the breeze faintly rocked their hanging cages. 
 
 Dale said they were making a beastly row, and Guy 
 reproved him, as the servant led them on to the 
 drawing-room. This was a large and lofty room, in 
 the centre of the house, and was lighted from the 
 ceiling. Upon the painted walls, of a delicate shade 
 of pink, were hung a few good pictures. A piano 
 stood near the corner to the right, and some chairs and 
 couches and small tables were scattered about the 
 room. Underfoot, instead of a carpet, was cool smooth 
 matting, with some leopard-skin rugs. A number of 
 doors opened into the dining-room beyond, and into 
 other rooms at the sides. These doors were all open.
 
 VIII SOME MORNING CALLS loi 
 
 to let the air play through, but curtains of bright 
 striped colours were hung across them, and separated 
 one room from another. Opposite the main entrance, 
 between the two curtained doors leading to the dining- 
 room, was a large mirror, in which, as he walked in 
 and found the room empty, Guy Langley was able to 
 contemplate the lie of his hair and the fit of his 
 clothes. 
 
 The whole bore traces of a woman's presence, and 
 her taste was specially evident in the arrangement of 
 the flowers with which every corner was filled. They 
 were there in masses, great clusters of Gloire de 
 Dijon roses, yellow and purple pansies, and fragrant 
 violets, the flowers of the old country mixed with the 
 blossoms of Indian flowering trees. Guy was quick to 
 notice these things, and all he saw of Helen Trevery^n's 
 abode during the minute that he was waiting for her 
 arrival seemed consistent with what he had heard of her. 
 He was therefore prepared to see some one different 
 from Mrs. Beamish or Mrs. Anderson. But when the 
 curtain of a door near the piano was drawn aside and 
 she walked forward to receive her visitors, both of them 
 were fairly taken aback, and Guy's handsome eyes 
 opened with an expression of pleased admiration which 
 an older woman would not have failed to recognise. 
 
 The girl made, in truth, a very pretty picture. Tall 
 and erect, with a well-shaped head and graceful move- 
 ments, Helen Treveryan would have attracted notice 
 anywhere. Though slight in figure she did not look
 
 102 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 delicate. There was health and strength in every line 
 and gesture. The broad chest, not yet fully developed; 
 the pale but clear skin through which the blood showed 
 so brightly when she blushed ; the firm step and up- 
 right carriage ; all told of a good constitution and a 
 country childhood. Her hair was of a bright beautiful 
 brown — English brown — neither dark nor red, nor 
 flaxen ; neither Celtic nor German. It grew rather low 
 on a broad straight forehead, and was very thick at the 
 temples. Her eyes were dark and rather deepset; 
 they looked at you quite fearlessly, but they were gentle 
 eyes, without hardness or criticism. You felt at once 
 that you could trust Helen Treveryan, and you felt it 
 more when she spoke. That steady low voice was a 
 thing that could not deceive. She had small ears, very 
 prettily shaped, small wrists and small firm hands, 
 white and womanly, and yet capable of giving you an 
 honest welcome. She wore a gray dress, trimmed with 
 a little dark gray velvet. In the breast of it she had 
 fastened a bunch of violets. By her side stood the 
 deer-hound ' Eex,' her inseparable companion. 
 
 She came forward with a faint flush on her cheek, 
 and stood for a moment looking from one of the young 
 men to the other, with something like an inquiry in 
 her eyes. Guy guessed her doubts, and smiled as he 
 shook hands with her. ' It is puzzling to have two of 
 us strangers coming together,' he said ; ' my name is 
 Langley.' She smiled slightly too, and said, ' Thank 
 you. That is a real kindness. Every one is not so
 
 VIII SOME MORNING CALLS 103 
 
 thoughtful.' Then they fell into conversation, helped 
 out by Eex. He approved of both the young men, 
 and especially of Guy, to whom he returned, pushing 
 up Guy's hand with his head, to be petted. 
 
 They talked on for a few minutes, and Guy was 
 charmed. From the first Helen Treveryan's sweet face 
 and frank unaffected manner won him completely. 
 She was composed and dignified in all she said and did, 
 but now and then he saw her eyes brighten with fun, 
 and he knew she understood him. Before they had 
 been a quarter of an hour in the room together they 
 were good friends, and it pleased him greatly to feel it. 
 Dale liked her too, but he felt a little shy with her. 
 She was in a sense too old for him. 
 
 Guy was beginning to think with regret that they 
 must bring their visit to an end, when Helen said, 
 ' Here is my father ; ' and Colonel Treveryan walked 
 into the room. 
 
 He was a tall spare man, with a good figure and 
 handsome face, neatly dressed and booted. His wavy 
 brown hair, of the same colour as his daughter's, was 
 thick and almost untouched by gray. His eyes were 
 hers over again, but his fair skin was bronzed by the 
 sun, and his mouth was covered by a heavy moustache. 
 At a short distance, in the saddle particularly, or in 
 flannels on the tennis-court, he seemed a young man 
 still. It was not until you looked closely into his face, 
 and saw the lines about his eyes and mouth, that you 
 could believe he had seen his fiftieth year.
 
 104 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 Colonel Treveryan shook hands with the two young 
 men as his daughter introduced them, and then said, 
 ' I hope you are going to stay to lunch. It is just two 
 o'clock.' Guy assented willingly, with a look at Dale, 
 and a few minutes later lunch was announced. 
 
 The morning's drive in the sun and their mad 
 gallop had made them thirsty, and a long tumbler of 
 iced whisky and soda seemed to them very delicious. 
 Guy noticed with illogical satisfaction that Helen drank 
 nothing but water ; and her father, like many men of 
 Indian experience, was equally abstemious. As they 
 ate their lunch, Helen told her father about the flight 
 from the Doctor's. ' What a little scamp that boy is/ 
 Colonel Treveryan said. ' It is very lucky he did not 
 break your necks. Beamish ought to keep him in 
 order. He wants a good whipping occasionally.' 
 
 Helen demurred at once. ' Poor little fellow ! I 
 won't have him abused. We are great friends. He 
 is not really a bad boy, father ; only he is so much 
 alone and he gets into mischief. He is never trouble- 
 some when he comes here.' 
 
 Colonel Treveryan looked at her and smiled. ' I 
 believe you would stand up for the Old Gentleman 
 himself if you heard anything said against him.' 
 
 'No, I shouldn't, daddy; and you must not be 
 wicked. But I am sure Georgie did not mean any 
 harm, and you know it was really Mr. Dale's fault, 
 wasn't it ? ' she said, turning towards him. 
 
 Dale objected indignantly ; and Guy took Helen's
 
 VIII SOME MORNING CALLS 105 
 
 side, and they had a merry discussion, which ended in 
 an agreement that the Limb had got the best of it all 
 along the line. 
 
 By the time lunch was over, Guy was thoroughly 
 at home with the Treveryans ; and when Colonel Tre- 
 veryan remarked that it was Saturday afternoon, and 
 that he meant to take a half-holiday, Guy agreed with- 
 out difficulty to stop and have a cigar, and Dale, though 
 he did not smoke, made no objection. 
 
 They walked out to the broad south verandah, which 
 at that time of the year was only pleasantly warm, 
 though the sun had been on it all day. It was screened 
 by one or two habul trees, with light green foliage and 
 round fluffy yellow blossoms, which grew close by the 
 wall of the house. Beyond them was a level stretch of 
 grass almost big enough for a cavalry parade-ground, a^d 
 beyond that a hedge and road, backed by a dark line 
 of mango trees, with some slender palms standing out 
 against the horizon above them. Just inside the road, 
 on the grass, was a giant banyan, with hanging boughs 
 which had touched and taken root, forming a grove 
 thirty or forty yards in diameter. Nearer, to the 
 right, a single cork tree, with hanging white blossoms, 
 reared its straight tall form into the cloudless sky. 
 
 The three men sat in easy cane chairs, looking out 
 through the light branches of the hahul trees and chat- 
 ting, while the breeze came through the house behind 
 them. Helen Treveryan had left them, to write letters, 
 she said, much to Guy's disappointment ; but her father
 
 io6 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 was a pleasant companion. His cigars did not appeal 
 to Dale, who was a little restless, but Guy, with his 
 indolent nature and his enjoyment of all things beauti- 
 ful, was perfectly happy. He was surprised when he 
 heard a clock in the drawing-room chime four. ' Is it 
 really four o'clock ? * he said, looking at his watch. ' I 
 had no idea it was so late. We must be going. May 
 I ask for our trap ? ' 
 
 But Colonel Treveryan objected again. ' Don't go,' 
 he answered, * unless you've something to do. It will 
 be warm driving over just now. Come round and 
 have a look at my horses, and then, I daresay, my 
 daughter will give us a cup of tea.' 
 
 They strolled out by the front of the house to the 
 swimming-bath. The green Venetians all round it were 
 closed, and the water looked very cool and inviting. 
 Then they went on through the mango grove to the 
 stables, scaring on their road a gaunt yellow pariah 
 dog, who was stalking a pigeon on the ground. He 
 trotted off a few yards, and stood looking at them, 
 satisfying his conscience by a low, lazy, yelping bark 
 which had no heart in it. 
 
 Colonel Treveryan's stables were very different from 
 what Guy and Dale were accustomed to see in England, 
 but they were well suited to the climate. They were 
 airy buildings of unburnt brick, heavily thatched, and 
 very neat and clean, with a pillared verandah in front, 
 and a roomy loose box for each horse. The native 
 servants in a comfortable undress of cotton jacket and
 
 VIII SOME MORNING CALLS 107 
 
 drawers, were sitting on the smooth earth outside in 
 the sun smoking. One of the animals heard his 
 master's voice and whinnied. Colonel Treveryan was 
 a good judge of a horse, and all he had were worth 
 having. He considered it part of a district-ofi&cer's 
 duty to be thoroughly well set up in that way. There 
 was a pair of Australian carriage horses, Walers as 
 they are called in India. These were good-looking 
 bays about fifteen-two, with plenty of substance and 
 not badly bred. A Waler is not quite as good as the 
 best English horse, but the breed is improving yearly ; 
 and a good Waler is not to be despised, either for 
 saddle or harness. Then there was a pair of stud-bred 
 chestnut geldings, better looking than the Walers but 
 lighter, which Colonel Treveryan generally drove in a 
 stanhope. Two more Walers filled up the six loose 
 boxes in the main stable. These were real beauties, 
 — Eomulus and Eemus, a brown and a bay, almost 
 as handsome as English thoroughbreds. Both were 
 well up to Colonel Treveryan's weight; and both 
 would go perfectly straight at a charging boar, which 
 is the best possible test of a horse's courage. Their 
 master gave them many a chance of showing it, for 
 he was a keen sportsman. In a smaller stable detached 
 from the main building was Helen's horse, Sultan, a 
 little gray Arab about fourteen-two. To Guy Langley 
 and Dale he looked like a pony, with his compact 
 frame and low round withers ; but they could appre- 
 ciate the clean short legs, and admire the beautiful
 
 io8 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 blood head, with its broad jaw and forehead and 
 intelligent eye. Like most good Arabs, Sultan seemed 
 small in the stable, but stood double the size — another 
 animal altogether when mounted and moving. 
 
 People write to The Field that Arabs cannot hold a 
 candle to English horses. Of course they cannot if 
 you put the two together on a racecourse, or to carry 
 a heavy man over a grass country. You might as well 
 expect a Brixham trawler to run before a summer 
 breeze against a racing crack. But try both in a beat 
 to windward against a south-west gale with a big 
 Atlantic sea coming round the Lizard, and you will 
 see. And try the Arab and the English horse on 
 rough service, with scanty food and bad water and 
 long marches, and you will see again. 
 
 Away in another stable by herself was Bess, who 
 laid her ears back and snapped when they came to her. 
 Colonel Treveryan admired her duly, and thereby won 
 Dale's heart. Then they told Pooran to put her in 
 the cart, and walked back to the house. 
 
 They found tea ready in the drawing-room, and 
 Helen Treveryan ready to dispense it. She had looked 
 beautiful before, but to Guy's eyes, and to Dale's, she 
 looked still better now. She generally rode with her 
 father in the evening, and she had dressed for her ride 
 before coming out. Her habit was light gray, in defer- 
 ence to the climate ; but it fitted her like a glove, and 
 showed off to perfection the straight well-made figure. 
 In those days women did not wear waistcoats and
 
 VIII SOME MORNING CALLS 109 
 
 loose jackets, and ride with their elbows out. There 
 was no dress in which a graceful woman looked so 
 graceful as in her riding-habit. Helen Treveryan was 
 essentially graceful, and the dress was exactly what 
 she required. The shade of gray too was well suited 
 to her light brown hair and clear skin ; and with a 
 round gray hat to match, and trim white cuffs and 
 collar fastened by the plainest of little brooches, her 
 whole get-up was thoroughly workmanlike. 
 
 A few minutes later, when Colonel Treveryan had 
 finished his tea and changed his clothes, they all came 
 out together on to the front steps. The two horses 
 were standing on the gravel below. They looked up 
 with a low whinny as they recognised Helen's voice, and 
 she came down and petted them both, and made them 
 each happy with a piece of sugar. Guy watched hej; 
 with keen satisfaction, and asked if he could mount 
 her. She hesitated for an instant, and looked round for 
 Colonel Treveryan. ' Thank you,' she said ; ' my father 
 always mounts me ; ' and then fearing from the look 
 on Guy's face that she had been ungracious, she added, 
 ' But he has deserted me to-day. Would you really 
 not mind helping me ? ' As she said it, Guy saw a 
 sudden delicate flush come over her cheek and neck. 
 It was still there as the little foot in its smart boot of 
 yellow Eussia leather was disengaged from his hand, 
 and she settled herself in the saddle. Then Colonel 
 Treveryan mounted, and the two rode away together, 
 followed by their syces on foot, old Eemus stepping
 
 no HELEN TREVERYAN chap, viii 
 
 off as quietly as if he were returning from a long 
 march, his straight-cut tail swinging regularly at each 
 step, while the Arab danced alongside as if his pasterns 
 were made of india-rubber, his neck and long swish 
 tail arched, trying to look as if he were fifteen hands 
 high, and succeeding fairly well. His rider sat him 
 perfectly, her figure erect but supple, and her hands in 
 her lap. 
 
 When the boys had got into their dog-cart and 
 given the mare her head, there was a moment's pause, 
 and then Guy said, ' By Jove, Chimp, what a jolly girl ! 
 and as handsome as paint.' And Chimp answered, 
 ' Stunning ; and about as nice as they make 'em in 
 these parts.' And they drove back, enlarging upon 
 the subject with all the poetical freedom which 
 characterises the languasre of the British subaltern.
 
 CHAPTEE IX 
 
 AN INDIAN COLD WEATHEK 
 
 You cannot talk of winter in the plains of India. 
 There is something dark and cold in the very sound 
 of the word ; and you cannot use it when week after 
 week the sky over your head is a cloudless blue, and 
 the flowers are in blossom. It is more like spring, 
 and yet it is not spring. Englishmen in India call it 
 simply the 'cold weather.' 
 
 The cold weather of 1876-77 had one distinctive 
 feature. Early in the year Lord Lytton, Disraeli's 
 Viceroy, had succeeded Lord Northbrook, and an active 
 policy was in favour with the new Government. 
 Before the rainy season came to an end and the sky 
 cleared, it was known that there would soon be a 
 grand gathering at Delhi, the old capital of the 
 Moguls, and that the Queen would be proclaimed 
 Empress of India. All over the country great prepara- 
 tions began to be made for the ceremony. 
 
 Moreover, rumours began to circulate as to the 
 possibility of stirring events beyond the north-west 
 frontier. It was said that Lord Lytton had come out
 
 112 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 determined to bring the ' Central Asian question ' to a 
 head. Enssian aggression was to be faced in Afghan- 
 istan as well as in Turkey. The old policy of inaction 
 was to be abandoned, and our relations with the Amir 
 were to be put upon a proper footing. Those who 
 could understand the signs of the times foresaw 
 trouble ; and the minds of men in India, Europeans 
 and natives alike, were filled with a sense of coming 
 excitement. 
 
 Nevertheless, in a quiet place like Syntia things 
 went on very much as usual. The Thirtieth Lancers 
 were not to form part of the army which the Viceroy 
 proposed to assemble at Delhi ; and though there was 
 to be a durhar on the 1st of January, the younger 
 members of the community were not greatly concerned 
 in these matters. To Guy Langley and Dale they 
 promised a little more amusement, and this was all. 
 
 The cold weather being the drill season in India 
 the Thirtieth had plenty of work. Colonel Aylmer 
 was not a man to let them rust. The mornings were 
 spent in parades or inspections, and no small portion 
 of the rest of the day was also filled up. It is a 
 mistake to suppose that a soldier in India has little 
 or nothing to do. During the long summer months, 
 no doubt, he has much time on his hands, but even 
 then there is work to be done ; and from the middle 
 of October to the middle of April the military machine 
 is in full swing. Still after all there is, as there 
 should be, a considerable margin of leisure and pleasure
 
 IX AN INDIAN COLD WEATHER 113 
 
 in a soldier's life. You pay him next to nothing, and 
 you expect him to die for you whenever called upon ; 
 it is only reasonable that he should have some com- 
 pensations. 
 
 Colonel Aylmer was always ready to give his 
 officers leave within reasonable limits, and he liked 
 them to be sportsmen. Many a bright cloudless day 
 Guy and Dale spent walking over the wet rice-fields, 
 or wading through the jheels, in that most fascinating 
 of occupations, snipe -shooting. They caught the' 
 knack before long, particularly Dale, who was the 
 steadier shot of the two ; and in the evening, when 
 they had changed their wet clothes under a spreading 
 2oeepul tree, and were in the cart again with the mare 
 stepping out for home, they usually carried with them, 
 for distribution among their friends, a goodly number 
 of birds. Occasionally a bag of twenty or thirty 
 couple of snipe was increased towards sunset by a 
 dozen wild duck, shot at some favourite piece of water 
 round which they would come wheeling again and 
 again before giving up all hope of settling. All this 
 means chills and fever at times ; but the boys were 
 young. 
 
 Sometimes they drove away in the early morning, 
 after a hasty breakfast, so as to arrive by daybreak on 
 the edge of the grain-fields, where the antelope came 
 from the great grass plains to feed on the growing 
 crops. Often enough this ended in disappointment. 
 A watchful doe gave the alarm, and there was a hasty 
 VOL. I I
 
 114 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 useless shot or two at a hundred and fifty yards, as 
 the beautiful beast they had been stalking went away 
 in tremendous bounds over the long grass before 
 settling down to his gallop. At times, however, they 
 were rewarded. As they lay in some dry water-hole 
 or thick patch of cover, the young buck came quietly 
 within reach of them, unsuspicious of evil, his brown 
 back and yellowish belly showing clearly against the 
 morning sky; or some veteran of many summers, 
 almost coal-black above and white below, his long 
 slender spiral horns lying along his back, gradually 
 approached them, stalking slowly forward alone, or 
 playing with his brown does. Then there was a 
 sudden report from Guy's rifle, or the little "360 
 express, with a bullet like a bit of pencil, which Dale 
 used for buck-shooting ; and as the smoke cleared 
 away, they saw the does scattering through the grass, 
 and a dark shape on the ground struggling vainly to 
 get up ; and the native shikaris ran in and cut the 
 poor beast's throat, to make it lawful food — lialdl. 
 
 Then the pig-sticking ; the drive out in the evening 
 to a camp under the trees; and the merry camp 
 dinner; and the long sweet sleep in an airy tent; 
 and the mountain in the morning light ; and the wait 
 at the edge of the jungle, spear in hand, while the 
 sound of the beat came nearer and nearer ; and the 
 sudden sight of the great gray boar, galloping out de- 
 fiantly, straight before him ; and the mad pursuit over 
 broken ground, and the fierce swerve and charge, and
 
 IX AN INDIAN COLD WEATHER 115 
 
 the thrill of the spear as the point went home, and the 
 long savage fight, and the dogged, pitiful, gallant death. 
 Lee managed the pig-sticking. He knew the country 
 thoroughly, he was always well mounted, and he 
 rode as if he had no neck. He soon taught Guy and 
 Dale to understand the game ; and such a game. 
 There is no sport on earth, not one, like a fight with a 
 fighting boar. 
 
 Apart from sport, there was always something to 
 do in the cool clear evenings. Polo had not then 
 been worked out to a science, but it already had taken 
 strong root in India, and directly the Thirtieth had got 
 some ponies together they began playing twice a week. 
 Most of the Civil officers were away in camp, but all 
 the ladies used to assemble to watch the game ; and it 
 was very bright and sociable. At first the Thirtieth 
 played extremely badly, and did their best to kill 
 themselves and each other, but they improved fast, 
 which was more than the ground did. A few weeks 
 after the rains ceased it was as hard as iron ; and the 
 clatter of the ponies' hoofs sounded as if they were 
 galloping on pavement. A fall then was no joke ; but 
 when one is young nothing matters. 
 
 When there was no polo, there was tennis and 
 Badminton at the Colonel's, or the Commissioner's, if 
 the Commissioner was in the Station ; or a ' lady's 
 evening' at the racket-court among the mango trees. 
 There was a very fair racket-court at Syntia. It had 
 been built many years before by some sporting civilian
 
 ii6 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 who lived in the days when Indian Civil Servants 
 remained in one place half their lives, and were rich 
 enough to do these things. 
 
 Then there was always the Club. This was a great 
 institution at Syntia. The Club consisted of a small 
 thatched house containing a billiard-room, a card- 
 room, and a reading-room, where one could see the 
 papers and magazines. Close to the house were some 
 good tennis-courts, while the racket-court and swimming- 
 bath were not far off. Every afternoon almost you 
 could get a rubber after lunch if so disposed ; and in 
 the evening about five o'clock, if there was nothing 
 else to be done, a number of people came round, riding 
 or driving, to play or look on at the tennis. After 
 the play was over they sat looking out over the great 
 river which flowed close by under the steep sandy 
 bank, until the quick night came down upon them and 
 the dew began to fall. Then there was a general 
 lighting of carriage lamps, and many friendly good- 
 nights, and they scattered away in the darkness, as 
 often as not to meet again in batches at various 
 hospitable dinner -tables. The wine was generally 
 good ; and if the conversation was not highly intel- 
 lectual, it was cheery and free from dulness. Every one 
 knew every one else pretty well, and no one was shy 
 or stiff. 
 
 Occasionally the afternoon was varied by a riding 
 party on the racecourse, a fine open plain with a few 
 palm trees in the centre, where you could have a two-
 
 IX AN INDIAN COLD WEATHER 117 
 
 mile gallop ; or there was an evening picnic. All 
 who cared to go met and rode out together along the 
 soft country roads, until they came upon the little 
 encampment where the native servants awaited them. 
 Perhaps the spot chosen was some old ruin in the 
 forest, where the trees rose through the shattered 
 masonry of a neglected temple, or overhung the stone 
 steps of a tank which some forgotten great man had 
 made, and named with his name. The darkness was 
 generally beginning to gather before the party set out 
 on their homeward ride, and the stars were bright 
 before they got back. 
 
 Then there was a small fortnightly dance at the 
 mess -house, which had a very good floor. Sometimes, 
 when no one came over from Baner, there was rather 
 a dearth of ladies ; but the few ladies who were ^ere 
 did not seem to mind. Once there was a bio; ball 
 at Baner to which all Syntia went off together by 
 train. 
 
 Altogether the weeks passed rapidly and brightly 
 enough, and before Christmas came round Guy Langiey 
 was surprised to find how contented he was with his 
 Indian life. It seemed to him that the country was 
 delightful, and that people who could see in it nothing 
 but weariness and vexation of spirit must be strangely 
 constituted. He was no doubt perfectly right; but 
 he had seen Indian life under favourable conditions, 
 and had not seen much of it. Moreover, he had seen 
 Helen Treveryan. Though as yet he did not fully
 
 ii8 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 recognise the fact, that was really the main cause of 
 his contentment. No doubt he owed it in part to his 
 good-tempered disposition, and to the artistic sense 
 which made him appreciate the picturesque side of 
 his new life. His books too helped him. He was a 
 desultory reader, but he read largely, and a man who 
 reads cannot be dull. But at the bottom of it all was 
 Helen Treveryan. 
 
 It was no wonder ; indeed, the wonder would have 
 been if Guy had failed to be attracted by her. Always 
 quick to appreciate beauty, he could not help admiring 
 Helen's sweet face ; and to his rather fastidious taste 
 there was something even more pleasing in the grace- 
 fulness of her movements and the look of refinement 
 and breeding which is above all mere beauty of colour 
 or shape. Moreover, Guy was a gentleman, and could 
 recognise and appreciate the straightness and purity 
 which made her so frank in her manners. 
 
 They were thrown constantly together in the easy 
 familiar intercourse of a small Indian Station, where 
 acquaintance naturally ripens fast. They met almost 
 daily, and met after a few days on a footing of un- 
 affected friendliness. Helen Treveryan was fond of 
 riding, and Guy was very often by her side as the 
 party cantered round the racecourse, or when they 
 rode slowly back from their picnics through the early 
 moonlight. She danced well, and Guy always got a 
 couple of waltzes with her in the evenings at the 
 mess-house. She played tennis, gracefully, if not very
 
 IX AN INDIAN COLD WEATHER 119 
 
 strongly ; and they often found themselves paired off 
 together on the smooth cement courts at the Club. 
 Even in his reading Guy found Helen a companion. 
 She had a taste for poetry as well as for music, which 
 is not a very common combination ; and Guy was 
 surprised to hear her speaking naturally and easily of 
 books which not one woman in six knows anything 
 about. She cared more for Longfellow and Scott than 
 for Shelley or Dickens ; but though he did not agree 
 with her, he thought none the less of her for that. 
 Her want of affectation too was very delightful. She 
 enjoyed life heartily, and was full of quiet fun. Yet 
 she could be very dignified on occasion. Once Den- 
 ham had presumed on her pleasant manner, and had 
 said something to her which he ought not to have 
 said to any girl. She did not understand him^but 
 she knew instinctively that he meant harm, and she 
 treated him at the time and afterwards with a quiet 
 coldness which effectually prevented any repetition of 
 the offence. Guy did not know the cause, but he 
 noticed and was pleased at her evident avoidance of 
 his enemy. 
 
 On Sundays Guy was generally free to do as he 
 liked ; and he gradually got into the way of spending 
 his day in the Civil Lines instead of attending Mrs. 
 Dangerfield's rather wild lunch parties. He used to 
 ride or drive over in time for the morning service. 
 He had not till then been by any means a regular 
 churchgoer, and he did not perhaps attend very
 
 I20 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 closely now ; but he liked to sit in the pretty little 
 half-empty church, with the soft air coming through 
 the open windows ; to hear at intervals the singing of 
 the small but carefully trained choir; and to listen 
 for the clear sweet voice, which came to him through 
 the rest, until sometimes it seemed to him as if all 
 others had faded away, and Helen was singing alone. 
 The Padre's sermons w^ere short, and good enough ; but 
 by that time Guy was getting impatient, and they 
 used to seem to him very uninteresting. Directly 
 they were over he was out under the porch, answering 
 friendly greetings and looking for the beautiful face, 
 which he knew would come out of the little stone 
 doorway at the foot of the staircase when the last notes 
 of the voluntary had ceased. 
 
 Then, if Colonel Treveryan was in Syntia, which 
 he often managed to be on Sundays, Guy would receive 
 and accept the invitation to lunch, which was always 
 ready as a matter of course for any one who had come 
 over from cantonments. Occasionally, though not 
 often, he was the only guest ; and though Helen left 
 the gentlemen to themselves after lunch he was able 
 in these Sunday visits to see a great deal of her. 
 He saw nothing that was not thoroughly pure and 
 ladylike. 
 
 It was all very pleasant, and very certain to end 
 in one way ; and before long a few quick eyes in 
 Syntia had begun to perceive what was coming. 
 
 Mrs. Stewart was the first to suspect that Guy was
 
 IX AN INDIAN COLD WEATHER 121 
 
 seriously attracted. Her apprehension was quickened 
 by something of the nature of jealousy, for she had 
 been accustomed to regard the intellectual side of him 
 as her peculiar property. She was surprised and rather 
 annoyed to hear him discussing a passage of In 
 Memoriam with Helen Treveryan, and still more so 
 afterwards to find that a somewhat sarcastic remark 
 on the subject was not at all well received. Something 
 she said about this opened the eyes of Mrs. Dangerfield 
 and Mrs. Aylmer. Mrs. Dangerfield, in her reckless 
 marauding way, at once attacked Guy, and accused him 
 of deserting old friends for new. He repelled the 
 charge warmly, but he failed to remove her doubts. 
 He failed equally with Mrs. Aylmer. She was attracted 
 by Helen ; and did not like the idea of Guy being too 
 constantly with her if, as was probable, he ' meant 
 nothing.' She had an interest in him as well. A few 
 days after Mrs. Dangerfield had attacked him, she got 
 an opening. Guy had come to lunch, rather early, and 
 was sitting in the drawing-room talking to her. He 
 said something about the Treveryans, and she took up 
 the subject quite naturally. ' What a dear girl Miss 
 Treveryan is,' she said ; ' I don't think I ever saw a 
 girl I took such a fancy to.' 
 
 Guy's eyes brightened. ' Yes ; isn't she awfully 
 nice ? ' he answered in the ridiculous language of the 
 day. ' It isn't only that she is pretty, but she does 
 everything so well. She is the best dancer I ever 
 knew, though they can all dance out here ; and she
 
 122 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 rides like an angel, and she is such a lady all 
 over/ 
 
 Mrs. Aylmer smiled at his enthusiasm. ' Take care, 
 Mr. Langley,' she said. ' I am afraid this is getting 
 serious.' 
 
 Guy coloured. ' Oh no, there is nothing of that sort. 
 I have never said a word to her that I might not have 
 said to any one.' 
 
 Mrs. Aylmer dropped the subject. What Guy 
 said was quite true. They had met and enjoyed 
 being together, with a young honest pleasure, but 
 neither of them had thought of anything more. 
 Nevertheless, they were on the old road, and it was not 
 long before Guy began to confess to himself that 
 Helen Treveryan's presence had become an intense 
 pleasure to him. If she failed to appear any evening 
 when he had expected to see her, he felt a disappoint- 
 ment which was sufficient to spoil everything. If she 
 seemed inattentive to anything he said, or too much 
 interested by the affairs of others, particularly if she 
 got into close conversation with Lord Enleigh, whose 
 soldierly enthusiasm she liked, he felt hurt and depressed. 
 Then a few gentle words from her dissipated his sore- 
 ness like a cloud. 
 
 Gradually the magic of her presence grew upon him 
 and overcame his senses, until the sight of her face, and 
 the touch of her cool white hand, became his one delight 
 and longing. He could not look at her without feeling 
 that his eyes betrayed him ; and if he spoke to her, it
 
 IX AN INDIAN COLD WEATHER 123 
 
 seemed to him that he could no longer trust his voice. 
 The very brush of her dainty dress made his heart beat. 
 
 Others were not watching him so closely as he 
 imagined. They had their own affairs to think about, 
 and if he had kept quiet his feelings might perhaps have 
 been unnoticed by the bulk of his neighbours ; but he 
 tried to conceal them by ostentatiously professing his 
 admiration for Helen Treveryan's beauty and goodness. 
 This was powerless to deceive those who had gone 
 through the fever, and it attracted the attention of those 
 who had thought nothing about the matter before. 
 People began to see and to talk. 
 
 Helen Treveryan saw nothing. She was enjoying 
 herself thoroughly, and she liked Guy Langley better 
 than any of the other young men, who all joined 
 in making things pleasant for her ; but he had never 
 spoken to her of love, and she had never thought of it. 
 As yet she was quite free and unembarrassed in her 
 behaviour towards him. 
 
 He felt this, and was nettled by it, and as the weeks 
 went by, there came over him an uncontrollable longing 
 to stir her heart and make her care for him before all. 
 He did not allow himself to follow out his thoughts to 
 their legitimate end. Marriage was a thing that hardly 
 ever crossed his mind. If any one had suggested it to 
 him, he would have laughed at the idea. But he longed 
 to feel that Helen Treveryan was not indifferent to him. 
 Whether he wanted her altogether for life he did not 
 stop to inquire, but he wanted her to love him then.
 
 124 HELEN TREVERYAN chap, ix 
 
 The rest might take care of itself. He was not dishonour- 
 able. He would have repelled with unfeigned horror the 
 idea of doing her wrong ; and he did not deliberately in- 
 tend to make love to her and desert her. He was simply 
 young and thoughtless. The desire of the moment 
 excluded from his sight all other considerations, and 
 the desire of the moment was to enjoy Helen Treveryan's 
 presence, and to know that she preferred him to all 
 others. 
 
 Meanwhile Colonel Treveryan, who was generally 
 absent in camp, and was of a straightforward simple 
 nature, suspected nothing. Mrs. Hunter, who, in the 
 absence of her husband, also in camp in his district, 
 had come over to stay with Helen, was perhaps not 
 equally blind ; but Helen volunteered no confidences, 
 and seemed quite heartwhole. 
 
 Hugh Dale did not fail to see that Guy's inclination 
 for sport was lessening, and that his attendance on the 
 ladies was becoming more and more regular ; but Guy's 
 temper did not seem to have improved, and Dale 
 found it better not to make any remarks on the subject. 
 Being thoroughly good-natured and loyal, he accepted 
 the position and said little about it to others.
 
 CHAPTEE X 
 
 CHRISTMAS WEEK 
 
 Such was the state of affairs when the Civil population 
 of Syntia reassembled for the festivities of Christmas 
 week. 
 
 Colonel Treveryan and his officers all came in from 
 camp, and the preparations for the ceremony of the 
 1st of January were rapidly pushed on. A great 
 programme had been arranged. Colonel Treveryan 
 was to give a dance at the Club, and there were to be 
 two mornings sky -racing; and Syntia had pluckily 
 challenged Baner to play them at polo, at rackets, 
 at cricket, and tennis ; and the regiment was to give 
 a dance too ; and then there was to be the durhar, and 
 after it, in the evening, a ball given by a Eaja ; and 
 throughout the week every one was to keep open house, 
 and put up as many friends from other stations as 
 could be induced to come ; and altogether Syntia meant 
 to have a thoroughly good time. And Syntia certainly 
 did have as good a time as an Indian ' mofussil station ' 
 can manage to have. 
 
 Christmas Day that year fell on a Monday. During
 
 126 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 the Saturday and Sunday the visitors came pouring in 
 from all sides, by road and by rail. The houses were 
 soon full, but those who could not find room in the 
 houses were put under canvas. On the grass behind 
 Colonel Treveryan's house there was a considerable 
 camp ; the white tents, all of one size and pattern, 
 beautifully pitched in two level rows, and comfortably 
 furnished. The other houses too had their gardens 
 full of them. At every turn one saw the white points 
 among the heavy green of the mango trees and palms, 
 or glittering against the blue sky. Even the Andersons 
 put up some unlucky visitors who had no particular 
 friends; and the Pink 'un dispensed a royal hospitality 
 to a party of very noisy young men who had been 
 billeted upon him by Mrs. Hunter. 
 
 On Christmas morning the little church was full to 
 overflowing. It all seemed very English. Helen 
 Treveryan's white hands had been busy there as weU 
 as in her father's house, and she had found ready help 
 from others. Pulpit and lectern and pillar and rail 
 were wreathed with flowers and evergreens ; and 
 though the sky was blue outside, and the sun was 
 shining brightly, many of the English men and women 
 who gathered there that morning forgot for a time, as 
 they listened to the Christmas service, that they were 
 exiles, thousands of miles from ' home.' Their hearts 
 were stirred by the familiar words. As the service 
 went on, they joined in the singing until the whole 
 building was filled by the unwonted volume of sound.
 
 X CHRISTMAS WEEK 127 
 
 and the little Padre's eyes sparkled with pleasure ; and 
 through it all rose sweet and clear and true, like the 
 song of a bird, the voice of a happy girl. 
 
 She and her father did their best to make it a 
 ' merry Christmas ' to all about them. There were no 
 English poor in Syntia, but there were a few people of 
 mixed blood to whom Colonel Treveryan's liberality 
 was welcome ; and the native servants were given a 
 feast in honour of the great day ; and they were also 
 allowed to carry off the innumerable trays of fruit and 
 sweetmeats which the native gentlemen of the district 
 had sent to the Commissioner Sahib. They wrangled 
 over the division of the spoil, and some of them ate 
 too many good things and suffered for it, but they 
 seemed to be happy. 
 
 Meanwhile the white Sahibs amused themselves 
 after their kind. There was a sumptuous lunch in 
 almost every house ; they spent the afternoon in 
 playing tennis, in riding, in boating on the river, and 
 in hunting up old acquaintances ; and then they all 
 had merry Christmas dinners and rejoiced over blazing 
 mince-pies and plum-puddings, and were more English 
 than in England, while the champagne flowed like water. 
 
 When the ladies broke up, some of the men went 
 off to the Club for the race lotteries. There was some 
 quarrelling there between a sporting planter and a 
 clean-shaved, square-jawed racing-man who was staying 
 with Denham ; but this was stopped before much harm 
 was done. Afterwards some of the Pink 'un's guests
 
 128 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 sat up drinking whisky and soda and singing songs, 
 which gradually grew stronger until they made the 
 poor little fellow hot all over. His mind was sorely 
 divided between the obligation to be polite to his 
 guests and the duty of protesting against their language. 
 He solved the difficulty by pleading hard work next 
 day, and asking leave to go to bed. Then he said his 
 prayers humbly, kneeling by his bedside with his hands 
 over his ears, trying to shut out the sound of a specially 
 horrid chorus, and asking forgiveness if he had done 
 wTong in not speaking out. 
 
 As to the racing next day, perhaps the less said 
 the better. The British subaltern, and generally the 
 Englishman in India, is not at his best when he is 
 pony -racing; and the meeting was not altogether a 
 success. There was some bad language used, and 
 some very inferior running. Dale unexpectedly pulled 
 off a race on a new purchase of his, which was about 
 the only thing Helen Treveryan enjoyed. Sitting on 
 the carpeted steps of an earthen bank, watching the 
 performances of a lot of second-rate ponies, generally 
 badly matched and not too well ridden, is an amuse- 
 ment of which it is possible to have enough. 
 
 In the evening there was the Commissioner's dance 
 at the Club. Helen and some of her father's guests 
 had worked hard to prepare for this ; and the place 
 was prettily got up, and the floor good. The Thirtieth 
 came over in force from cantonments, and every one 
 seemed to enjoy the dance heartily.
 
 X CHRISTMAS WEEK 129 
 
 On the Wednesday there were the rackets and 
 lawn-tennis matches. Dale and Harrison of the Civil 
 Service, also a Harrow boy who belonged to one of 
 Colonel Treveryan's districts, represented Syntia at 
 rackets. Dale was to play tennis in the afternoon, 
 but he scoffed at the idea that it would be too much 
 for him. ' Rot ! ' he said contemptuously. ' I'm not 
 quite so soft as all that. I can play a set or two of 
 pat-ball in the evening if we do have a close game.' 
 
 There was a large gathering in the gallery after 
 breakfast, and they saw a first-rate fight. Dale and 
 Harrison pulled off the doubles at last after a very 
 close finish; but Dale was beaten in the single match by 
 Spencer of the artillery, a tall, well-built man with a 
 long reach, who never seemed to exert himself and was 
 always at the right place, and had the most detestable 
 service. 
 
 At tennis in the evening it was worse. There was 
 to be a double for ladies and gentlemen, and a single 
 for men only. Dale and Mrs. Lee represented Syntia. 
 Mrs. Lee got excited and broke into voluble Irish, and 
 made every one laugh, and then blushed furiously and 
 looked very pretty. In the end they lost, the lady on the 
 other side being too strong for Mrs. Lee. When it came 
 to the singles a clumsy-looking man in a woollen jersey, 
 Greenfield of the One Hundred and Tenth, came forth 
 to do battle for Baner. He could play no other game, 
 and made tennis the business of his life. His style was 
 so ugly and his returns so slow that Syntia were very 
 VOL. I K
 
 130 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 confident. Nevertheless he won, after a long fight, 
 Dale's quickness and hard wrist-play being fairly over- 
 matched at last by the other man's unfailing certainty 
 to get a ball up somehow, and his careful placing. Pos- 
 sibly Dale was a little tired too, in spite of his good 
 condition, and besides, he did not profess to play ' pat- 
 ball.' 
 
 So far Baner was one event ahead. 
 
 Next morning there was some more racing, and in 
 the afternoon the polo-match. That was good fun. 
 The play was not very scientific, but the teams were 
 even, and throughout the result was doubtful. It was 
 two goals all until the very end, and the excitement 
 was tremendous when Guy Langley got away with the 
 ball about the middle of the ground, and galloping and 
 hitting like one inspired, succeeded within half a minute 
 of time in making another goal for the Thirtieth. 
 
 It was a sweet moment to him, and the sweetest 
 thing of all, as he cantered back past the line of 
 carriages, was to see Helen's face flushed with excite- 
 ment, and to hear her bright, 'Well done, Mr. Langley.' 
 
 On the Thursday evening the racing contingent 
 departed. There remained the cricket, which would 
 now be the deciding event. Syntia rather fancied 
 themselves at this. They had expected to be beaten 
 at polo, but they thought they could pull off the cricket- 
 match. They had one exceptionally good bowler, a 
 corporal in the Thirtieth, who was very fast and got on 
 a big break at times. Two or three of the men could
 
 X CHRISTMAS WEEK 131 
 
 bowl a bit too; and so could Dale and Guy, and 
 Harrison used to be good at lobs. Then they had 
 discovered that the little Pink 'un had been in the 
 Tonbridge eleven, and kept wicket rather well. They 
 had plenty of batting. The regimental doctor, Evans, 
 a tall young fellow with sloping shoulders and a rather 
 ugly private school style, who went in first with Dale 
 for the Thirtieth, was almost certain to make runs ; 
 and there were several others — among them a sporting 
 superintendent of post-offices, a very hard hitter with 
 an extraordinary eye. 
 
 Dale had taken great trouble with the ground, and 
 by dint of watering and rolling had really managed to 
 get a very respectable pitch. He could not get Guy 
 to practise as much as he wished, but on the whole he 
 was confident, and the men were ready to back them- 
 selves at any odds. 
 
 There had been a good deal of chaff about the 
 match, and both sides were now really keen to win. 
 They began within two hours of the stated time, which 
 is rare in India ; and there was a considerable gather- 
 ing to watch the game from the start. Syntia won the 
 toss and went in. The men in the field wore helmets 
 or pith hats or felt wideawakes, which looked odd; 
 but the bowling was not to be despised, and the scor- 
 ing was only moderate. Dale and the doctor made a 
 good stand; but after that the wickets went down 
 rapidly. The post-office man hit one ball out of 
 the ground to square leg, and was then taken with a
 
 132 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 yorker. Guy, after making three or four runs very 
 prettily, played forward at a rather short-pitched one, 
 and put up an easy catch. The Pink 'un stayed some 
 time, and was then badly run out. The innings was 
 over by lunch- time for 120. 
 
 After lunch Baner made almost the same number. 
 Their captain. Major Clifford of the One Hundred and 
 Tenth, a Winchester man, played real cricket. He had 
 bowled well in the Syntia innings, slow medium pace, 
 without much break, but with a very good length, and 
 a most unpleasant spin. Now he set a good example 
 by going in first and keeping his wicket up until very 
 near the end of the innings, which closed for 123. He 
 was well seconded by Spencer, the racket-player, who 
 batted well for five-and-twenty. Guy Langley let him 
 off once at cover-point, but it was a hard catch. 
 
 That night it was the Thirtieth dance, and there was 
 much speculation and a little betting about the cricket- 
 match. Dale and Guy Langley were still very confident. 
 They thought they ought to have done much better ; and 
 that they would do so the second innings. Dale drank 
 nothing all the evening except a little whisky and soda, 
 and tried to induce Guy to follow his example. It was 
 a very pleasant dance, but people were beginning to get 
 a little tired now, and Colonel Treveryan's party left 
 early ; after which Guy thought it stale, flat, and un- 
 profitable, and consoled himself by a second supper, 
 and another glass or two of champagne. 
 
 The next day cricket began at eleven o'clock ; and
 
 X CHRISTMAS WEEK 133 
 
 in spite of the dance the play was keen. Syntia were in 
 all the morning. Guy failed again, getting bowled, to 
 his great vexation, just after the Treveryans had come 
 on to the ground. But Dale played up well ; and he 
 and the post-office man had one very merry half-hour, 
 during which they hit the bowling all over the ground 
 and made fifty runs, to the great delight of the Thir- 
 tieth, who applauded wildly. The Pink 'un also did 
 well, playing very steadily and making some nice cuts ; 
 and a private of the Thirtieth, who went in last, after 
 lunch, without pads or gloves, and hit across at every 
 ball, knocked up twenty in half as many minutes. 
 Baner was left with nearly 200 to make. 
 
 ' They can't do it, sir,' Corporal Humphry said 
 decidedly to Dale, and Dale agreed. 
 
 But they meant to try. Major Clifford Mid 
 Spencer went in, and for. more than an hour they kept 
 their wickets up, and not only kept their wickets up 
 but scored fairly fast. They collared Humphry com- 
 pletely ; Clifford putting him away to leg for threes 
 and fours, and Spencer sending him several times to 
 the off boundary with a very pretty late cut. Dale 
 tried a number of changes, and at last got Spencer's 
 wicket ; but Clifford remained, and though the wickets 
 began to fall pretty fast now the score rose steadily. 
 Dale put on Harrison with lobs ; but Clifford, who was 
 still in and thoroughly set, hit him clean out of the 
 ground three times in one over. Guy went on for a 
 couple of overs, but could not get on the spot. The
 
 134 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 soldier change-bowlers were freely punished, and the 
 telegraph showed 150, and 160, and 170, and two 
 easy catches were dropped in the long field. It was 
 really getting very unpleasant, and Dale began to grow 
 warm. At last Clifford stepped out to one that he 
 ought to have played, and the Pink 'un put his wicket 
 down very smartly. Two more to fall and twenty 
 runs to make. Twelve of the twenty runs were made, 
 and still there were only eight wickets down. The 
 excitement was getting almost painful. Then, amid a 
 scream of delight, Dale, who had put himself on again, 
 ran up and got a man off his own bowling — an almost 
 impossible catch, with one hand, low down, not ten 
 yards from the bat. Nine down and eight runs to 
 get; every ball was watched now with breathless 
 interest. During the next over three runs were made 
 by a lucky snick. Four to tie. 
 
 Dale had sent Guy out to the boundary for a catch. 
 He was within twenty yards of the Treveryans' carriage. 
 Clifford and Spencer had walked round and were stand- 
 ing by it talking to Helen. As they stood, the bats- 
 man at the opposite end, a hard-hitting artillery 
 bombardier, who had made twenty runs and was 
 playing very well and pluckily, stepped out to the 
 first ball of the over, which was pitched up a little too 
 far. He caught it, a fair half- volley, and the ball flew 
 away high in the air straight for the place where Guy 
 had been put. Dale, in his excitement, turned round 
 and called out, ' Now you've got him ! ' and waited with
 
 X CHRISTMAS WEEK 135 
 
 a confident anxiety for the result. Guy was a pretty 
 safe catch as a rule, and as the ball rose he rejoiced 
 at his chance ; but he had too much time to think 
 about it. As it hung in the air, he remembered that 
 he had dropped one the day before, and a horrid 
 doubt suddenly came to him that he might drop this 
 too. Who does not know the miserable suspense of a 
 moment like that, when you are waiting for a ball to 
 come down ? How slowly it seems to move at first, 
 and with what a diabolical swiftness it gets through 
 the last twenty feet. Guy stood watching it steadily. 
 There was no judging required. It was hit right into 
 his hands, and he scarcely had to move a yard. Would 
 it never come ? 
 
 He was hot with rage and disgust as he heard the 
 involuntary ' Oh ' of disappointment all round h^m, 
 followed by an unseemly shout on the part of the 
 enemy. ' Very sorry. Chimp,' he called out rather 
 sullenly as he threw the ball up, and cursed his luck. 
 Only two to tie now. The next ball was a good one, 
 and the third was better. It grazed the bombardier's 
 leg stump close by the bail, which shivered and settled 
 again. Then the bombardier stepped out once more, 
 and drove Dale to the boundary, all along the ground, 
 and the match was over. 
 
 Poor Guy ! It really was cruelly hard lines. To 
 miss an easy catch like that and lose the match by it, 
 and right ^in front of Helen's eyes. He walked back 
 to the pavilion-tent feeling sore and ashamed of him-
 
 136 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 self. He little knew how her woman's heart went out 
 to him in the humiliation of the moment. As the 
 catch fell, Clifford exclaimed in a tone of delight, 
 ' Muckered it, by Jove ! and right into his hands.' 
 Then he went on : ' I wonder what year Langley was 
 in the Eton eleven. They must have been weak, I 
 expect. He doesn't seem to be much good.' 
 
 Helen's big eyes flashed. She was very young 
 still. ' Mr. Dale said it was a very strong eleven,' she 
 said. ' He told me they beat Harrow that year ; and 
 I think they beat Winchester in one innings.' Clifford 
 looked up in surprise and laughed. ' That is one for 
 me. I am sorry I spoke.' She caught his look, and 
 turned the conversation rapidly. A minute later the 
 match ended. Soon afterwards her father joined her, 
 and Guy came with him, looking crestfallen. 'Beaten 
 after all,' he said, ' and all my fault. I feel horribly 
 ashamed of myself.' Helen was a little out of temper 
 at the moment, and Guy's humility did not soften her 
 heart. ' I thought you were a little too sure of 
 winning,' she answered, in a tone that was unusual with 
 her. Colonel Treveryan laughed, and she turned upon 
 him with a wrath that was only half assumed. ' Don't 
 laugh, father. I hate being beaten. I think Syntia 
 played abominably.' Then the grays stepped off, the 
 carriage wheels rolling noiselessly over the short dry 
 grass, and Guy turned away, hurt and unhappy. 
 
 The Sunday's rest was needed, for several of the 
 party, men and women, were beginning to feel the
 
 X CHRISTMAS WEEK I37 
 
 efifect of the past week's dissipation. Guy Langley, 
 after some doubt, rode over to the Civil Station for 
 morning church; and Helen, who was feeling guilty, 
 came and asked him to stay to lunch. There were a 
 number of people there, and she said little to him, 
 but there was an unspoken apology in the tone of her 
 voice. 
 
 After tea Guy sent for his dress-clothes, and went 
 on to dine with the Hunters, who were always glad to 
 see him. He got home late, as the clocks were 
 striking the last hour of the old year. On the whole 
 it had been a very happy one.
 
 CHAPTEE XI 
 
 THE PKOCLAMATION OF THE EMPIRE 
 
 Delhi, the city of the Moguls, was to be the scene of 
 a splendid pageant on the first day of 1877. Follow- 
 ing up a suggestion made by Lord Ellenborough many 
 years before, the Viceroy was that day to proclaim to 
 the assembled chiefs and notables of India that Her 
 Majesty the Queen had assumed the Imperial title. 
 
 Vast preparations had been made for the event. 
 The native princes had been brought together from 
 every part of the country. Eajput and Mahratta and 
 Mahometan and Sikh, great and small, from the ruler 
 of millions to the ruler of a few thousands, all had 
 assembled to do honour to the English Queen. The 
 rulers of British provinces were present also, each with 
 a large camp; and there were some thousands of 
 troops. Looking down from the historic Eidge, where 
 a little body of Englishmen and loyal Indians had 
 stood at bay, besieging and besieged, through the 
 terrible summer of 1857, one saw in every direction 
 long streets of tents — a real city of canvas. There 
 our fiercest fighting had been twenty years before;
 
 CHAP. XI THE PROCLAMATION OF THE EMPIRE 139 
 
 there the English Empire was now to be formally pro- 
 claimed. It was proclaimed with great pomp, and on 
 the whole Lord Lytton was successful in a very difficult 
 task. There were murmurs of course. The heralds 
 and tabards and banners and trumpets made the enemy 
 blaspheme. There was too much sky-blue satin, too 
 little gray steel. The ceremonial undoubtedly savoured 
 of Drury Lane. 
 
 Still it did good. The immense concourse im- 
 pressed the native chiefs, many of whom then met for 
 the first time — met to do homage together at the foot 
 of the English throne. Among them were men who 
 could remember the days when the English power was 
 still struggling for supremacy. The first who rose in 
 his place to hail the Empress- Queen was one whose 
 own soldiery had stood against us in two bloody battles 
 thirty years before. Throughout the continent of India 
 men felt that the ceremonial had a real mieaning. It 
 was not all burlesque. 
 
 In connection with the grand gathering at Delhi 
 were minor ceremonials at all the local centres. 
 
 In Syntia the day began with a parade of the Thir- 
 tieth and the detachment of Native Infantry ; and the 
 Colonel announced in the presence of all who cared to 
 attend that the Queen was now Empress of India. 
 There were three ringing cheers and a feu-de-joie, and 
 much fluttering of pennons and shimmer of lance 
 points and bayonets. 
 
 After breakfast there was the durbar. This was held
 
 140 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 in the grounds of a large house which had been built 
 by a wealthy planter many years before. It now be- 
 longed to one of the principal landowners of the district 
 The house stood high, overlooking the river and the flat 
 country beyond. The grounds were open and extensive. 
 It had been arranged that the durhar should be held 
 in a large sliamiana or tent pitched in the garden. 
 
 Eleven o'clock was fixed for the ceremony. Long 
 before that time the native gentlemen whose rank en- 
 titled them to a seat had begun to assemble. Many of 
 these had come from the outlying districts of the pro- 
 vince, and had found quarters in the town of Syntia, 
 or were encamped in the neighbourhood. The day was 
 a great one, and it furnished occasion for a fierce rivalry 
 between the more important families, who had been 
 open enemies in days gone by. Now the Pax Bri- 
 tannica had descended upon them, and they were 
 obliged to refrain from attacking one another ; but the 
 old feuds were alive. The Civil officers had had much 
 trouble in settling the relative precedence of some who 
 had not before met in public ceremonial, and there had 
 been quarrelling between the rival retinues, and event- 
 ually an affray in which three or four men were 
 wounded. However, all had passed off without serious 
 disturbance, and on the morning of the 1st of January, 
 though there was still some smouldering discontent, all 
 outward differences had been composed. They came 
 to the durbar with evident interest and enjoyment, in 
 every variety of dress and vehicle.
 
 XI THE PROCLAMATION OF THE EMPIRE 141 
 
 The fine old Eaja of Jainagar drove up in a lofty- 
 barouche lined with primrose satin, the harness bright 
 with massive silver mountings, and half a dozen horse- 
 men cantering behind him. The silver -mounted 
 harness was broken in one place and tied up with 
 cord ; and the horsemen were dressed in badly-fitting 
 uniforms, imitated from our Native Cavalry ; and the 
 animals they rode were miserable ponies only fit for 
 the knacker's yard. But in the East splendour and 
 squalor always go hand in hand. The silk and the 
 silver made a brave show, and the horsemen raised a 
 most impressive dust, and who cared for the cord-tied 
 harness and the broken knees of the horses ? Not the 
 crowd. They said, ' Shdvdsh ! The Eaja Sahib has a 
 fine sowarree! And the Eaja Sahib sat alone on the 
 back seat of his carriage, looking very magnificent . in 
 his coat of brocade, with a necklace of huge pearls 
 round his neck, and his gold-hilted sword in his hands ; 
 while two very fat sons sat opposite to him. Behind 
 him clung three grooms in coats of red English cloth. 
 Two had hats of the same pattern, while the third had 
 a dirty white turban, and the tail of his red coat bore 
 as an ornament some gold lettering, W. F. 104 A. 3, 
 which marked the end of the piece. 
 
 The Eaja Sahib and his retinue looked funny to 
 English eyes ; but he was a gentleman and a power 
 in the countryside. He had done loyal service to us 
 twenty years before, during the Mutiny, when the 
 hearts of men all round him were failing them for
 
 142 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 fear ; and he was held in high esteem by the English 
 Government, who had made him a Knight of the Star 
 of India.^ 
 
 Close behind the Eaja Sahib came a plain close 
 carriage, in which was seated Earn Lai Das, the great 
 money-lender, who was only too well known to the 
 leading families of the neighbourhood. Eam Lai Das 
 was a rather handsome man, very simply dressed in 
 white, with a short well-groomed beard, and one large 
 pearl in each ear. He was a powerful man too in his 
 own way, and a sincere friend of the English, as well 
 he might be. There was no periodical squeezing of 
 money-lenders under the British rule. 
 
 Next to the money-lender's carriage came another 
 of the same description belonging to Mr. Chatterjee, 
 the Bengali pleader. Mr. Chatterjee was a stout, 
 smooth-faced man, wearing a flat hat like a solidified 
 halo, and a kind of frockcoat of semi-transparent 
 
 1 Why does the English Government make Knights of the Star of 
 India, or Knights of the Indian Empire, or Knights of St. Michael 
 and St. George ? It is well meant no doubt ; but surely in the 
 interests of Imperial unity it is a mistake. An Englishman serving 
 his country in India or Australia or Africa or America is an English- 
 man still. If he is worthy of an honour let him have an English 
 honour, not a local one which marks him as something different 
 from the English who stay at home. The principle is recognised in 
 the Army ; why not all through ? An Englishman should be regarded 
 as an Englishman wherever he is ; and as to the Raja Sahib, if you 
 suppose he would not rather have the title of Maharaja, or a piece of 
 land, or a couple of guns added to his salute, than a silver star which 
 his heirs must give up at his death, you know nothing of India. Of 
 course you can create a demand for these local decorations ; but it is 
 an artificial and unwholesome demand.
 
 XI THE PROCLAMATION OF THE EMPIRE 143 
 
 yellowish silk, which in no way concealed his ample 
 proportions. In the fastening at the breast was a 
 gorgeous gold watch-chain. Mr. Chatterjee was con- 
 nected with the vernacular press, and was ready to 
 declaim on any subject in the world at a moment's 
 notice. He professed to have discarded many of the 
 prejudices of his fathers, but was, in fact, as supersti- 
 tious as the most ignorant villager. He was pleasant 
 enough to talk to, but you could not trust him, and 
 he was an ass, though a cleverish ass. He had rela- 
 tives in every Government office in the Bengal 
 Presidency, and received from them information on 
 all sorts of subjects, which he turned into rupees. 
 
 Threading his way through the block of palankeens 
 and carriages came Moulvi Eoshan-ud-din, the most in- 
 fluential man of the Mahometan community in the town 
 of Syntia. He had been to Mecca, and had the reputa- 
 tion of being a great scholar and a very devout follower 
 of the Prophet. It was difficult to get on with Eoshan- 
 ud-din. He was extremely polite to any Englishman ; 
 would salaam to you deeply with his eyes cast down, 
 and would speak most softly and courteously in answer 
 to any question. But there it ended. The dark eyes, 
 with their discoloured whites, were hardly ever lifted 
 to yours, and the thin bearded face showed no sign 
 of expression. There was always the hand gently 
 moving the beads along the string of the rosary ; and 
 the low voice, with its guttural Arabic pronunciation. 
 You got no further. What would this man be in
 
 144 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 time of trouble ? What had he been twenty years 
 before ? A friend perhaps. Who knows ? 
 
 They assembled in the grounds of the durbar house 
 — Eajas and money-lenders, and pleaders and 
 preachers, and all the rest of the community, and were 
 marshalled to their seats by the English officials. 
 The shamiana was a large square tent, or canopy, the 
 flat canvas roof supported by wooden pillars draped 
 with twisted cloth. In the centre was an open space, 
 round three sides of which were disposed, in the 
 shape of a horseshoe, the seats of the principal 
 persons. At the top was a chair for the Com- 
 missioner, Colonel Treveryan, who represented the 
 British Government. To his right the front row of 
 chairs was filled by English officers, military and 
 civil, the former in full uniform, the latter in evening 
 dress, which looked very odd in the bright sunshine. 
 To the left sat some of the chief native gentlemen in 
 order of precedence. The rest of the tent was filled 
 with rows of chairs occupied by Europeans and 
 natives. The centre space and the broad red carpeted 
 road to the doorway were kept clear by a few men of 
 the Thirtieth Lancers in full uniform, facing inwards. 
 They were picked men, and looked very fine as they 
 stood there, motionless as statues, the embodiment of 
 English discipline and military power. 
 
 At last all the guests were seated, with the help of 
 little Goldney, who was very shy and courteous, 
 and Anderson, who was very fussy and dictatorial, in
 
 XI THE PROCLAMATION OF THE EMPIRE 145 
 
 spite of a coat which was not in a condition to face 
 daylight. Then word was sent to Colonel Treveryan, 
 who came in, wearing his military uniform, and walked 
 up to his seat, the assembly standing to receive him. 
 
 The ceremonial that followed was very simple. 
 When the band outside had played a bar or two of the 
 national anthem, and the assembly had sat down, 
 Colonel Treveryan, who remained standing, addressed 
 them and informed them that Her Majesty the Queen 
 had assumed the Imperial title. At the most impressive 
 moment of his speech something occurred in the part 
 of the tent where the ladies were sitting, and one or 
 two of them laughed. Women have no bump of 
 veneration ; no respect for solemn things. Otherwise 
 the oration was received with decorous silence until it 
 ended. Applause was beginning; but Colonel Trevervan 
 checked it by holding up his hand, and repeated his 
 words in Hindustani. Then he said, ' Gentlemen, the 
 Queen, Empress of India.' And a hearty cheer 
 was given by the Englishmen present — the natives 
 sitting silent and motionless. As the cheer died away 
 a gun pealed outside. The Eaja Sahib had asked to be 
 allowed to send two guns in to Syntia to fire a salute. 
 
 While the salute was going on. Colonel Treveryan 
 gave the signal for departure by leaving his place and 
 leading the Eaja Sahib to the entrance of the tent. 
 Then the great men drove off in order of precedence 
 with much crowding and shouting, most of the 
 Europeans walking away in the cool January sun to 
 
 VOL. I L
 
 146 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 some corner where they had left their carriages. The 
 ladies had an exit of their own at the back. 
 
 An hour later the great tent was empty, but for a 
 few nearly naked coolies who were removing the chairs in 
 order that the tables might be laid for the ball supper 
 in the evening. 
 
 The management of this entertainment had been 
 confided by the Eaja to his own district officer, Hunter ; 
 the only condition being that the Sahib should do 
 everything in the best possible way, so that the Eaja 
 might give pleasure to his white guests and show his 
 loyalty to the Queen. Money was no object ; but the 
 ball must be the best ever given in Syntia. 
 
 Hunter, or rather Mrs. Hunter, was thoroughly 
 competent to carry out the work. The house was 
 tastefully decorated, and the pretty rolling grounds were 
 lighted up, and the floor was almost too good. No 
 sticky wax was allowed to profane it ; but all day long 
 a line of coolies, carefully supervised, were tenderly 
 rubbing the boards with smooth-cut cocoanuts, until 
 the surface had assumed a hard true polish and shone 
 like a pebble. The band of the Thirtieth were to play 
 in an adjoining verandah, which was tented in to retain 
 the sound. All round the hall were well-furnished 
 rooms; and behind, in nooks of the cool dark terrace over- 
 looking the river, were a number of seats. The supper 
 was everything it should be, and the wine was the very 
 best. The programme was characteristic of Mrs. Hunter. 
 She liked her dancing strong, and objected to wasting
 
 XI THE PROCLAMATION OF THE EMPIRE 147 
 
 the evening in squares. There was a quadrille to begin 
 with, and then a succession of waltzes, with a very rare 
 polka or gallop and three sets of Lancers. Supper at 
 twelve, with about half a dozen couples told off for 
 the centre table, and every one else to make his own 
 arrangements. As aide-de-camp and general assistant 
 she had secured Dale, who was as keen about a dance 
 as he was about everything else. He had worked 
 nobly and succeeded well ; and he was at her elbow 
 when the guests began to arrive. 
 
 It was a beautiful night as Guy climbed to his place 
 on the Thirtieth's drag after dinner. The stars were 
 shining out of a cloudless sky ; and there was just cold 
 enough in the air to make an ulster comfortable. Away 
 towards the native town a rocket occasionally rose and 
 broke against the darkness. As they drove on a faint 
 glow appeared in this quarter, and it gradually brightened 
 until they topped the last rise in the road and the town 
 lay below them. It was a pretty sight. 
 
 There is perhaps no country in the world where 
 illuminations are so beautiful as in India. Instead of 
 the hard glitter of gas, and the still harder and whiter 
 glare of the electric light, and the stiff decorations which 
 hurt the eye in an English or French or German town, 
 there is the soft deep glow produced by countless 
 thousands of the native chirdghs. These are little 
 earthenware saucers, with a few spoonfuls of oil in them 
 and a loose wick of twisted cotton. The light they 
 give, when in large numbers, is peculiarly warm and
 
 148 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 rich ; and the very simplicity of the instrument used 
 makes it the more flexible and effective. Instead of 
 being confined to artificial patterns, expressed in gas- 
 pipes, the Indian puts rows of lamps along the edge 
 of his flat roof, along the sills and arches of his doors 
 and windows, at every point where the little saucers 
 will easily stand or hang. An Indian street is full of 
 picturesque variations of architecture, and these are 
 picked out in lines of yellow light which adapt them- 
 selves to the graceful forms of the buildings. Some- 
 times the Indian spoils the whole thing by erecting 
 stiff horizontal lines of bamboos along his roads, and 
 stringing lamps on them, which shows that the beauty 
 of the usual illuminations is not wholly due to 
 artistic taste ; but this is rare. The rolling ground 
 upon which Syntia was built, and the masses of dark 
 trees which broke the lines of street and wall, and 
 the smooth surface of the river beyond reflecting 
 innumerable lights, all added to the beauty of the scene. 
 Away to the right Guy could make out the diirlar house, 
 which stood alone and high at some distance from the 
 town. The drive was picked out by a line of lights, 
 and he could see the carriages going slowly up through 
 the glare. There and in the town was much noise and 
 confusion. An Indian, like an Italian, can do nothing 
 without shouting. 
 
 As the party from the cantonment walked up the 
 broad stone steps, they saw at the top, waiting to 
 receive them, the giver of the entertainment. The
 
 XI THE PROCLAMATION OF THE EMPIRE 149 
 
 Eaja Sahib was resplendent with silk and jewels, and 
 looked a striking figure. Fully six feet in height, 
 with a handsome face and courteous dignified manner, 
 he was an admirable specimen of his class, the Eajput 
 aristocracy, who are ready to be our firm friends if we 
 will have them so, and who can bring their country 
 with them. 
 
 Shaking hands with the Eaja Sahib and the two 
 fat sons, who were magnificent but very inferior to 
 their father in appearance, Guy made his way into the 
 ballroom which was already pretty full. His first 
 look was for Helen Treveryan, whom he saw a little 
 higher up the room, standing by her father and sur- 
 rounded by applicants. He was welcomed with a 
 bright look of pleasure, and secured a waltz, No. 4. 
 
 ' Only one. Miss Treveryan,' he said in a tone of 
 disappointment ; ' can't you give me another ? ' 
 
 ' I think you are very ungrateful, Mr. Langley. I 
 kept that one for you, although you were so late, and 
 I have made an enemy of Mr. Anderson for life.' 
 
 Colonel Treveryan was listening with a smile on 
 liis face. He had seen with pleasure the admiration 
 which Helen had aroused among the men about him, 
 and he felt generously inclined. ' Give him one of 
 mine, Nellie,' he said. ' It is selfish of me to keep 
 two for myself.' Guy looked as if he quite agreed, 
 but Helen refused at once. ' No ; I won't do anything 
 of the kind,' she answered. ' I am not going to lose 
 my best waltzes. No one dances as well as you do.'
 
 150 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 The difficulty was compromised at last. Guy was to 
 have an extra, if there were any extras, and a square. 
 
 It was a delightful dance. The floor was perfect, 
 and the band was good, and there were many pretty 
 dresses. Guy's first waltz was real bliss. He and 
 Helen both had a good ear, and they had thoroughly 
 caught each other's step. As they went smoothly 
 round, steering through the crowd about them with 
 an ease born of perfect sympathy and confidence, they 
 were the handsomest and best matched pair in the 
 room. Colonel Treveryan, a good dancer himself, 
 watched them with pleasure ; and the little Pink 'un 
 gazed at them with envy. 
 
 Between that waltz and supper they sat out their 
 square on the terrace. Helen had been dancing 
 steadily and was glad of the rest. She was looking 
 perfectly beautiful, Guy thought, as he led her out of 
 the room ; her eyes bright and her face a little flushed 
 with the exercise. They found a seat overlooking the 
 river, and sat down. ' Are you sure it is not too cold 
 for you ? ' Guy said, as she took her hand from his 
 arm, and his voice had a tender solicitude about it 
 which might have betrayed him. But Helen was 
 young and untrained, and she did not notice. ' Oh 
 no/ she said. ' It is delightful to be out of the heat.' 
 
 It was very pleasant. Behind them, in the house, 
 they could hear the quick music of the Lancers ; but 
 the terrace was broad and the sound was mufiled. 
 Twenty feet below them lay the river. The house
 
 XI THE PROCLAMATION OF THE EMPIRE 151 
 
 stood at the end of a curve ; and looking to tlieir left 
 they could follow the line of the southern bank as far 
 as the buildings of the town a mile away. The light 
 from the illuminations was reflected in the water ; and 
 boats bearing torches were moving upon its surface. 
 From these boats men were launching little lamps of 
 various colours, which floated slowly down the stream 
 into the darkness below the town. Many of these 
 frail vessels disappeared before they had gone far, but 
 many survived. Guy and Helen Treveryan watched 
 them as they came on — a fairy fleet, forming and 
 scattering and reforming in countless combinations 
 upon the dimly seen surface of the river, as the air 
 or the eddies drifted them. They floated slowly by 
 and disappeared under the palms and bamboos which 
 fringed the bank to the right. Across the river, to 
 the north, was the blackness of the earth, and above 
 it the northern stars. 
 
 Neither Guy nor Helen spoke much. She was 
 conscious of nothing but a sense of exquisite happiness. 
 To him, as he sat by her side, with her dress touching 
 his hand, and her beautiful face and throat dimly seen 
 in the starlight, there suddenly came an almost over- 
 powering longing — the fiery reckless passion of a 
 young man's love. His heart began to beat hard, and 
 in another moment he would have been carried away, 
 when she broke the spell. The Lancers were over, 
 and there now came through the open doors the first 
 notes of a waltz. Helen heard and got up at once.
 
 152 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 ' You must take me in now, please. The next is my 
 father's dance. I must not be late for that.' As they 
 passed across the terrace she stopped again for an 
 instant, and looked back towards the river. 'How 
 beautiful it is/ she said with a slight tremor in her 
 voice. And Guy answered fervently, ' It is like 
 heaven to me.' Like heaven! A pretty girl, a 
 starry sky over a silent Indian river, and a little 
 dance music to set one's heart going. Well, we have 
 all had our moments of heaven on earth, and were 
 they more poetically constituted ? Later in the even- 
 ing Guy tried to revive the dream, but when do such 
 dreams revive ? He got his extra waltz during supper, 
 and after it he took Helen out to the terrace again ; but 
 her mood had apparently changed. She was talking 
 about something that had amused her, and seemed in 
 no humour to sit down again. Moreover, a surprise 
 had been prepared for the guests, which soon brought 
 the whole of them out to the back of the house. 
 
 If there is one thing which natives of India, high 
 or low, love with aU their souls, it is htish hdzi — fire- 
 works, or fire-play as they more accurately call it. 
 They will spend any amount of money in this way, 
 and seem never to have enough. Much against his 
 judgment Hunter had agreed, in deference to the 
 earnest desire of a great native landholder, who was 
 heavily in debt, but very jealous of the Eaja Sahib's 
 ball and very anxious to show his loyalty, that at 
 twelve o'clock there should be a display of fireworks
 
 XI THE PROCLAMATION OF THE EMPIRE 153 
 
 upon a little sandy island which lay on the opposite 
 side of the river, midway between the town and the 
 durbar house, so that Europeans and natives alike 
 might profit by the sight. 
 
 The display was announced by some explosions 
 like fog -signals, and then began the usual thing. 
 Eockets whizzed into the sky, singly or in bouquets, 
 and broke in showers of gold and green and red; 
 Catherine wheels whirled and hissed ; squibs spouted ; 
 half -lit crosses and stars gleamed through the 
 smoke, and half- extinguished blackening circles 
 swung slowly round, and came to an inglorious 
 end ; two floating forts as big as hay waggons 
 blazed into one another for some minutes with a 
 tremendous noise of cannon and musketry at a 
 distance of ten yards ; an elephant and a h©rse 
 of strange proportions arose outlined in fire ; and 
 finally there was a splendid trophy, consisting of an 
 Imperial crown over the motto ' God bless the Queen- 
 Empress of India.' The effect of this work of art was 
 somewhat marred by the resolute refusal of the two 
 n's to do their duty, which made ribald subalterns 
 jeer, and by the powder smoke, which had drifted 
 across the river and made the ladies cough; but it 
 was very fine. 
 
 The giver of the entertainment had come to the 
 durhar house, and it was necessary in common civility 
 to put seats on the terrace and enjoy the show ; but 
 after a time it became a bore. The young men and
 
 154 HELEN TREVERYAN chap, xi 
 
 maidens murmured, and every one was tired of it. 
 However, it was over at last, and the calm stars shone 
 out again, looking rather contemptuous ; and the Civil 
 officers were very complimentary to the Thakur Sahib, 
 who seemed pleased and went away smiling. The 
 crowd said there had been a great tamasha, and that 
 it had cost a lakh of rupees ; and the dancing began 
 again more vigorously than ever. It was nearly four 
 o'clock before the ladies had all gone, and the young 
 men sat down to the substantial second supper which 
 some of them rued so bitterly later in the day.
 
 CHAPTEE XII 
 
 MK. PITT WEIGHT 
 
 After the ball Syntia soon settled down into its 
 wonted quiet. Most of the guests dispersed next 
 day. They enjoyed a ' Europe morning,' and rose to 
 a very late breakfast ; and in the course of the after- 
 noon they scattered in all directions, as they had 
 come, by road and rail and river. Then the white 
 tents, which had become yellow with ten days' duet, 
 disappeared from among the mango trees ; and the 
 Civil officers went back to their regular grind again, 
 and the soldiers to their parades and musketry ; and 
 there was peace in the land. 
 
 There was a sense of dreariness too at first, after 
 all the racket of the past week, and the ladies looked 
 rather fagged ; but this passed off in a few days. 
 
 To Guy all seemed a delicious dream. There was 
 no doubt about it now. Since the evening of the 
 dance he had been hopelessly fascinated. Others had 
 noticed his manner to Helen that night, if she had 
 not ; and he made little attempt to deny to his own 
 heart that he had fallen at her feet. Yet, with
 
 156 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 characteristic indolence and enjoyment of the present, 
 Guy Langley did not even now seriously put before 
 himself the idea of marriage. He was in love with 
 Helen Treveryan, and he let his love have full course ; 
 he did his utmost to be with her, and to make himself 
 pleasant to her. But he said nothing to her that need 
 change for good or evil the easy familiar footing upon 
 which they stood to one another. Helen was still 
 unconscious of his feelings. She had plenty of happi- 
 ness in her life, and none of that vulgarity of mind 
 which keeps so many young women always on the 
 look-out for a ' follower.' So the matter stood, and 
 so it might perhaps have remained for a considerable 
 time longer if something had not come to disturb the 
 even tenor of their lives. 
 
 Not long after the festivities of Christmas week 
 there arrived at Syntia a young Englishman who was 
 travelling in India, and had been passed on from head- 
 quarters with a letter of introduction to Colonel 
 Treveryan. Mr. Pitt Wright was a man of about 
 nine -and -twenty, with a fine place in the Eastern 
 counties and an income vaguely spoken of as twenty 
 thousand a year. He had lost his father when he 
 was a boy, and had grown up without much home 
 discipline. He was by no means a fool ; but he was 
 proud of his money, and extremely careful in spending 
 it ; and he had a conceited, supercilious manner, par- 
 ticularly with women, which was not agreeable. He 
 contemplated entering upon a political career, and had
 
 XII MR. PITT WRIGHT 157 
 
 some ideas on the subject of India ; but at present lie 
 was travelling for pleasure and sport. 
 
 This unbidden guest settled down upon Colonel 
 Treveryan's house as if it belonged to him. He had 
 first fallen upon the ever-hospitable Viceroy, and had 
 attached himself to the headquarters establishment 
 with a calm tenacity which became first amusing and 
 then infuriating. The aides-de-camp cursed him, and 
 to all concerned he made himself an intolerable bore. 
 He was sent away for a time to see the native capital 
 of Jeypore, and the Taj, and the Golden Temple ; but 
 he turned up again for the great assemblage at Delhi, 
 and had to be accommodated with a tent in the camp. 
 There he grumbled at everything provided for him, and 
 added appreciably to the troubles of the staff, who 
 were already worked off their legs. When the Delhi 
 camp broke up he was at last shaken off, very much 
 against his will. He had still to get rid of a fortnight 
 or more before the beginning of the shooting-party 
 in which he had been given a place, and as Syntia 
 was in the midst of some of the recognised sights 
 of India, and he had nowhere in particular to go, he 
 consented with a not very good grace to pay a visit 
 to the Commissioner. 
 
 He arrived by train one evening in January, and 
 was met by Colonel Treveryan who drove him up 
 from the station. He seemed to be in an indifferent 
 humour ; complained in a hard level voice, very much 
 at the back of his throat, of the filthy food which he
 
 158 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 had got at the refreshment -rooms ; and was strong 
 against the shameful slowness of the trains, and the 
 way in which the native porters clamoured for haJcshish 
 at every turn. Helen was out riding when he arrived, 
 but they met soon afterwards at dinner. Mr. Pitt 
 Wright did not make a favourable impression upon 
 her. He talked rather cleverly, but he talked too 
 much. He evidently considered himself of very much 
 greater importance than his host, or the few people 
 who had been asked to meet him. He interrupted 
 and corrected without scruple, and his manner to 
 Helen herself was familiar and patronising. More 
 than once she felt tempted to object strongly to some 
 of his remarks ; but she restrained herself, and her 
 father saw only that she was rather cool and distant. 
 
 When the ladies left the room, Colonel Treveryan 
 walked round to the other end of the table where the 
 stranger was sitting, and took his daughter's chair. 
 Pitt Wright had pulled out his cigarette-case, and was 
 lighting a cigarette from a candle in front of him. 
 Having started this to his satisfaction, he sat back in 
 his chair and began to talk again. 
 
 ' How disgraceful the native carriages are on your 
 Indian lines,' he said. 'I wonder the people stand 
 it. Some one ought really to take the matter up. 
 They are frightfully crowded, and the seats are nothing 
 but narrow boards, and the whole thing is like a cattle 
 pen.' 
 
 ' Natives can travel by any class,' Colonel Treveryan
 
 XII , MR. PITT WRIGHT 159 
 
 said. ' The third-class carriages are very crowded at 
 times no doubt, but the people who travel third-class 
 in India are not accustomed to sitting on cushions, and 
 would vote them a nuisance, I fancy, in hot weather. 
 It is difficult to see what one can do. The fares are 
 very low indeed, a farthing a mile or less, and I suppose 
 the Companies can't afford to give better accommodation 
 for the money.' 
 
 ' Ah ! you are like the rest, my dear Colonel. You've 
 got accustomed to it. Anything is good enough for a 
 nigger. But I assure you the thing would not be 
 allowed for a moment if the British public knew of it. 
 You will have to treat them better one of these 
 days.' 
 
 ' 1 don't think they would tell you that I am 
 inclined to treat them very badly,' Colonel Treveryan 
 answered; and he repressed the feeling of irritation 
 that his guest's words had stirred up. Were they not 
 always the same, these ignorant globe-trotters, always 
 ready to take for granted that their countrymen were 
 brutal oppressors ? What was the use of arguing 
 about it ? He carried off the conversation to other 
 topics, trying to find out what were his guest's tastes 
 and wishes and what could be done to amuse him. 
 The result was not very encouraging. 
 
 Mr. Pitt Wright did not much care about going to 
 see the old ' City of the Dead ' in the forest, which was 
 one of the sights near Syntia. It had once been a 
 great Hindu capital, and there were ruined temples
 
 i6o HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 and houses and tanks, all deserted now, tenanted only 
 by bats and jackals, and overgrown by jungle trees. 
 ' I have seen such quantities of these ruins,' he said, 
 'about Delhi. They are very picturesque no doubt, 
 but they are very much alike. A little of them goes 
 a long way.' Would he care to go down by boat 
 to the great religious fair on the river -bank at Eam- 
 gunge ? Pilgrims came to it from all parts of India, 
 and one could see a great variety of types. ' Er, yes, 
 I don't mind ; I think that would be rather interesting ; 
 but don't they have cholera at these places ? ' Would 
 he go and pay a visit to the Eaja of Leree and see the 
 famous rock fortress which had never been taken ? 
 No, he thought not. He had seen some of these hill 
 forts already, and they really were rather a fraud. 
 Then there was the position held by our people in the 
 Mutiny, when the contingent revolted. Week after 
 week a party of English officers and civilians and a 
 company of British infantry, backed by a few faithful 
 natives, had held a large enclosed house on the river- 
 bank ; the men fighting grandly against hopeless odds, 
 and the poor ladies sharing the danger and privation, 
 and doing their best to help by nursing the sick and 
 wounded. The house was still there, all shattered 
 and pitted with round shot and musketry, and the 
 feeble earthworks round it had not yet wholly dis- 
 appeared under the wash of the rains. It was a 
 sight to fill any English heart with pity and pride. 
 Surely no Enghshman could turn carelessly away from
 
 XII MR. PITT WRIGHT i6i 
 
 the spot where his countrymen had made that desperate 
 stand. 'Thanks/ Pitt Wright said. 'I don't much 
 care about battlefields. I don't profess to understand 
 military matters ; and after all, these little fights out 
 here were not of much importance. Some day, if you 
 happen to be driving round that way, you might show 
 it me.' Finally Captain Lee, who was one of the 
 party, arranged to show Pitt Wright a day's pig- 
 sticking ; and it was also settled that he would try 
 a morning with the snipe in a neighbouring jheel. 
 ' I have no doubt,' he remarked, ' that I shall make 
 myself happy enough somehow, until the tiger-shooting 
 begins.' 
 
 Then they joined the ladies. Helen had avoided 
 asking a large party the first night in case her guest 
 should be tired with his journey ; but Mrs. Hunter was 
 there, and Mrs. Stewart, and Mrs. Lee. Pitt Wright 
 went and sat down near Mrs. Stewart, whom he had 
 been looking at during dinner, and they were soon in 
 an apparently friendly conversation. 
 
 After a time Hunter asked Helen to sing. She 
 knew that Hunter and Stewart both liked it, and as 
 none of the other ladies sang she went to the piano as 
 usual. She turned over her music and took out a 
 volume of German songs which Hunter always de- 
 manded. Then the beautiful voice rose clear and 
 sweet and true, every word audible and every note 
 easy and sure. And through it all, through the soft wail 
 of Schubert's Ave Maria, and through Mendelssohn's 
 
 VOL. I M
 
 i62 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 dreamy love-fliglit, Anf Flugdn des Gesanges, to tlie banks 
 of the sacred stream, came at intervals the hard throaty 
 tones of Pitt Wright, who was seated in a long low chair, 
 with his head lying back and his legs stretched out, 
 discoursing to Mrs. Stewart about the position of the 
 Liberals in Norfolk. It was not her fault. She was 
 fond of music herself and knew better. Her husband 
 looked at her and shook his head, and she answered 
 with an expressive shrug of the eyebrows. What are 
 you to do when a man will talk whether you wish it 
 or not ? She returned him nothing but low mono- 
 syllables, and looked absently towards the piano ; but 
 it was no use. She had set him off, and if she was 
 not more interested in his conversation than in the 
 music he was. At the end of each song he stopped to 
 say, ' Bravo, excellent,' and then went on talking. 
 
 When Helen had sung three or four songs in 
 succession, she turned to Hunter, who had been sitting 
 listening in calm enjoyment, qualified only by Pitt 
 Wright's strident voice. A good dinner and then 
 music was exactly his notion of happiness. ' Come 
 along, Mr. Hunter, and join in a chorus. What shall 
 we have ? GaucUamus igitur ? ' 
 
 Hunter sighed and got up. ' I am much too old to 
 sing that, and it is pleasanter listening to you.' But 
 he came nevertheless, and so did the Lees, and then 
 Mrs. Stewart took advantage of a pause in Pitt Wright's 
 remarks and offered to play for them, and they started 
 the bright cynical student's song.
 
 XII MR. PITT WRIGHT 163 
 
 Mr. Pitt Wright declined to join of course. He 
 did not sing. He lay out in his chair, with his head 
 back and his hands in his pockets, and yawned un- 
 restrainedly at intervals. 
 
 They had one or two more songs, and after that the 
 party broke up. The men had put on their coats and 
 lighted their cigars, and were standing on the steps 
 waiting for the ladies, who were wrapping themselves 
 up in a side room. Pitt Wright had risen, with an 
 evident effort, to say good -night to them, and sank 
 into his chair again as they walked out. Hunter 
 turned to Treveryan and nodded his head sideways 
 towards the drawing-room. 'You will find him an 
 awful bore, Treveryan. How long is he going to 
 stay ? ' 
 
 ' Lord knows ; but I daresay he is a very ^ good 
 fellow.' 
 
 ' H'm. I daresay. I don't like the species myself. 
 Come along, wife. We're keeping every one wait- 
 ing.' 
 
 Treveryan waited until the last carriage had driven 
 off, and then returned to the drawing-room. He found 
 his guest in his former position : his legs stretched out, 
 and the soles of his dress shoes facing the door. Helen 
 was in the corner behind the piano gathering up her 
 scattered music. As Treveryan came in, he heard Pitt 
 Wright's voice talking of Mrs. Stewart. ' Not a bad- 
 looking woman, and decently dressed too. Quite 
 refreshing after what I have been going through of
 
 1 64 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 late.' Helen did not answer, and he went on : ' Seen the 
 last of them off, Colonel ? Who were all these 
 respectable people ? ' Then, without waiting for an 
 answer, ' By the way, where did we say you were going 
 to take me to-morrow ? ' 
 
 ' I am afraid I shall not be able to get away to- 
 morrow morning,' Treveryan said. ' I have some 
 work; but I thought you might begin by driving 
 over to cantonments and calling on the regiment. 
 In the afternoon we could go for a ride if you liked, 
 or to tennis at the Club.' 
 
 ' Oh, very well. I have no doubt I shall get along 
 all right. 'Now I think I will say good -night. No, 
 no more smoke, thanks ; I am rather tired.' 
 
 When Pitt Wright had gone, Treveryan changed 
 his coat and went to his writing -room for a cigar. 
 Soon afterwards Helen joined him. She had put on 
 what she called her smoking-coat, a loose tea-gown of 
 Tussa silk, soft and gray and comfortable, but well 
 made, like everything she wore. Her father looked at 
 her with loving admiration in his eyes. ' What a nice 
 thing that is, Nell. I always think you look even 
 better in that than in your swell dresses.' 
 
 Helen passed her fingers through his brown hair 
 and then bent down and kissed it. ' Dear old daddy ! 
 you would think I looked nice in anything. Father, 
 what are we to do with that horrid man ? Do you 
 think he will stay long ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know, Nell. They said a few days, but
 
 XII MR. PITT WRIGHT 165 
 
 that may mean anything. I daresay we shall find 
 him pleasant enough. We must not be inhospitable.' 
 
 'I don't want to be inhospitable, daddy; but it 
 does irritate me so. They are all alike. They just 
 use your house like a hotel, and they seem to think 
 you have nothing in the world to do but to amuse 
 them. I am not going to have you wasting your 
 time upon him, and then sitting up half the night 
 working to make up for it.' 
 
 ' Don't, Nell ; I don't like it. It is a nuisance, 
 of course ; but you must be civil to a man in your 
 own house, and they don't understand. I daresay 
 they think we are paid for it ; and they have not 
 the least idea what the work is in India.' 
 
 'I expect they understand well enough, but they 
 don't care. So long as they get all they wa^t, it 
 does not matter to them what trouble it costs. One 
 never realises how detestable Englishmen can be till 
 one sees them travelling.' 
 
 ' Nell, Nell, you really are not fair. Some of them 
 are capital fellows. Who could have been nicer than 
 young Wenley last year ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. I liked him ; but very few are like that.' 
 
 ' Well, a good many of them do seem to leave their 
 manners in the Suez Canal ; but, after all, it is natural 
 enough. They feel that they are in a strange country 
 where nobody knows them, and so they don't much 
 care what they do. I remember having that feeling 
 myself when I first came out. You must settle down
 
 i66 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 into your place and get to know people round you 
 before you care for their opinion.' 
 
 ' I daresay, father ; but I am certain you always 
 behaved like a gentleman. They don't behave like 
 gentlemen, many of them. There's no excuse for 
 that.' 
 
 Colonel Treveryan put his hand on his daughter's : 
 ' Never mind, Nell. Let's talk of something pleasanter 
 than T. G's. How did Sultan go this evening ? ' 
 
 Helen shook off her little trouble with an effort, 
 and the two were soon chatting happily about other 
 matters. 
 
 By seven o'clock next morning Colonel Treveryan 
 had finished his early tea and was at his work. 
 Helen came out a couple of hours later, looking as 
 fresh and bright as if she had never left England. 
 She had not yet fallen into the bad Indian habit 
 of early rising, which is responsible for more illness 
 than anything else in the country. 
 
 She and her father sat down to breakfast, and 
 finished it alone. A servant was sent to inquire 
 whether their visitor would have anything in his 
 room, but the answer was that he would come out 
 soon. It was past eleven before he appeared, and 
 Colonel Treveryan, after waiting some little time, had 
 gone to his office. Helen had finished her morn- 
 ing interview with the servants, had taken some 
 breakfast to Jacko the monkey and was looking after 
 her bifds, when Mr. Pitt Wright walked out of his
 
 XII MR. PITT WRIGHT 167 
 
 rooms into the hall. Her hands were full, but she 
 smiled a bright good morning to him. She had 
 reproached herself while she was dressing for her 
 rather hasty condemnation of the night before, and 
 had determined to make things as pleasant as she 
 could. ' I hope you are rested,' she said. ' Did you 
 sleep well ? ' 
 
 'No. I can't say I did. Some confounded dogs 
 were howling all night and kept me awake.' 
 
 'I am very sorry. The pariah dogs do make a 
 noise sometimes at night, and it worries one till one 
 gets accustomed to it. You must have a quiet day. 
 Now you must want your breakfast.' 
 
 She took him into the dining-room and poured 
 out his tea for him, and sat with him while he ate 
 his meal. He seemed to enjoy it, and talked agreeably 
 enough, in a rather irritating free-and-easy way, until 
 it was over. When he had done, he took out his 
 cigarette-case. Helen got up. *I will leave you 
 to have your cigarette,' she said. 'My father said 
 I was to tell you that you are to order the carriage 
 when you want it ; and if you want to speak to him 
 about anything, I am to let him know.' 
 
 ' Oh, don't go. What is your father doing ? ' 
 
 'He is in his office-room trying cases, I think. 
 He is dreadfully hard-worked always.' 
 
 Mr. Pitt Wright was examining his cigarette, which 
 had got a little flattened, and gently coaxing it into 
 shape. ' Is he, really ? ' he said carelessly. ' I
 
 1 68 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 thought he was a great swell, and had lots of 
 fellows to devil for him. Look here, don't you go. 
 I know you've nothing to do, anyhow. Come and 
 talk to me while I have a smoke. You won't have 
 one yourself ? ' 
 
 He had remained seated when she rose, and his 
 manner was very much the manner of our golden 
 youth towards a barmaid. Helen's head went up, 
 and her temper began to get the better of her ; but 
 she tried not to show it. ' I can't stop now/ she said, 
 and walked out of the room. Her guest looked at 
 her and laughed in a rather embarrassed way. 
 
 ' Don't be cross. Please come back. I shall be 
 miserable if you don't. It's very rude to leave me 
 all alone.' 
 
 Helen returned to her birds, but the brightness 
 had gone out of her face. She stood in the hall 
 for a second, and a hot flush rose over her cheek and 
 neck. ' If it were not for father,' she thought to 
 herself, 'how I should love to have it out with 
 him.' Then she pulled herself up. ' How silly I am 
 to be troubled by it. I won't let him worry me any 
 more. But he is not a gentleman.' 
 
 For the next week Helen succeeded in avoiding 
 any unpleasantness, but Pitt Wright was a great 
 nuisance. He had nothing on earth to do apparently 
 and took no interest in anything, so that it was 
 hard to amuse him. Colonel Treveryan took him 
 out snipe - shooting one day, and he shot rather
 
 XII MR. PITT WRIGHT 169 
 
 well ; but tie disliked getting his feet wet, and 
 came to the conclusion that snipe-shooting was not 
 good enough. Then the hospitable Colonel, with a 
 pang of regret, mounted him for a day's pig-sticking. 
 He did not ride badly, but he got flurried and 
 very nearly came to grief over a jinking boar, and 
 then he laid the blame on Eemus. The horse funked, 
 he said, and put him off. Funked ! Eemus, who 
 loved the sport, and would have carried his master 
 straight at the biggest pair of tushes that ever 
 gleamed. On other days Pitt Wright loafed about 
 the house smoking, or drove over to cantonments. 
 He had struck up an acquaintance with Denham, 
 and would sometimes go and lunch or dine with 
 him, ordering a horse or a carriage and keeping 
 it out for any length of time without the smallest 
 consideration for man or beast. Sometimes he went 
 to the Club in the afternoon for a rubber, but not 
 often ; and as he did not play tennis he did not 
 care to go in the evening, and Colonel Treveryan 
 gave up playing. He would not call on any one 
 in the Civil station; not even on the Lees, though 
 Lee had taken a good deal of trouble in helping 
 him to see some sport, and every one was ready 
 to be hospitable. ' What is the use,' he said, ' of 
 calling on a lot of people I shall never see again, 
 and never want to ? ' Altogether Helen fairly longed 
 to see the last of him. After the first day he was 
 perhaps a little more careful in his manner towards
 
 I70 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 her, but it was always more familiar than she 
 liked. 
 
 So things went on for three weeks, and Pitt 
 "Wright had shown no sign of going. Then one 
 morning at breakfast came a letter to say that his 
 shooting-party had been put off, and was not to 
 begin until the 1st of February. ' Well, I'm hanged,' 
 he said, reading his letter with a face of disgust. 
 'That is too bad. I have been waiting for those 
 fellows a month already, and now I shall have to 
 kick my heels for another fortnight, just because 
 some silly old Colonel won't give some of them 
 leave. It doesn't seem to occur to them that my 
 time is limited. I must get away by the middle 
 of February. I expect it will be beastly hot in 
 the Eed Sea even then. I shall write to the 
 Viceroy's people and have them stirred up. Confound 
 them ! ' 
 
 Helen sat looking at the table, with her mouth 
 set. Colonel Treveryan answered quietly : 'It is 
 disappointing, but I expect they can't help it, and 
 you will have time enough. I daresay the shooting 
 will be all the better for being a bit later. I wish 
 we could find something for you to do meanwhile.' 
 
 Pitt Wright dimly recognised that he had not 
 been very gracious. ' Oh, it isn't that,' he said ; 
 ' I am perfectly comfortable here, and I'm much 
 obliged to you for putting me up. Only, I don't 
 like staying for ever, you know.'
 
 XII MR. PITT WRIGHT 171 
 
 ' My dear fellow, please don't think of that. We 
 are very glad to keep yon as long as yon like 
 to stay.' 
 
 So the nnbidden gnest remained at Syntia, hardly 
 concealing his weariness and impatience to be gone.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE DIE IS CAST 
 
 DuEiNG all this time Guy Langley had seen much less 
 of Helen, and he was concerned at the deprivation. 
 It troubled him greatly when she failed to appear at 
 the tennis-ground in the evenings. It troubled him 
 still more to know that she was driving or riding with 
 Pitt Wright, even though her father was with them. 
 He would have been pleased if he had known how she 
 disliked the duty ; and he might have guessed it from 
 her evident pleasure when at times she did break 
 away ; but a man in love is never reasonable. The 
 net result was that he saw less of her, and knew she 
 was constantly with some one else. It seemed odd to 
 him that Pitt "Wright should stay so long except for 
 one reason. Guy was getting sore and jealous. It 
 was not surprising. Helen controlled her dislike 
 bravely, for her father's sake, and she said nothing to 
 others against her guest. They seemed to be on the 
 best of terms. 
 
 One Saturday night before dinner, when Guy 
 walked into the anteroom of the mess rather early,
 
 CHAP. XIII THE DIE IS CAST 173 
 
 intending to spend a quarter of an hour in reading a 
 magazine article which he had begun, he found Pitt 
 Wright sitting near the fireplace. He had come to 
 dine with Denham, who was also there. As Guy came 
 in, the two were laughing, and he heard Denham say : 
 ' You had better bolt before it is too late. She is a 
 determined young woman.' The conversation was 
 interrupted by Guy's entrance, and in a few minutes 
 several other men came in ; but during dinner Guy 
 could not get those words out of his head. He spoke 
 little, and ate less, and looked so glum that St. Orme, 
 who was sitting next him, attacked him on the subject. 
 
 ' What the devil is the matter with you ? ' St. 
 Orme asked in his fine, slow, rolling voice, after several 
 attempts had failed. ' You look as if you were going 
 to be shot, or married, or something. By JovCf I 
 believe that's it. A ses heaux yeux I ' and he drained 
 his glass. 
 
 Guy flushed guiltily, and Chimp's ringing ' Ha ! ha ! ' 
 by his side irritated him ; but the words made him 
 rouse himself, and for the rest of dinner he was less 
 silent. Unfortunately the provocation soon recurred. 
 
 There was a very small party at mess that night, 
 and Pitt Wright was the only stranger. When the 
 cigar-box came round, several of those who had dined 
 went off; some of them were going to drive out to 
 camp for a day's shooting. Guy was listening to a 
 story of St. Orme's about an adventure of his in 
 Egypt. St. Orme had seen some odd things, and his
 
 174 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 stories, told in his swaggering manner, were amusing 
 enough. Suddenly Guy canght a few words which 
 made him start. On the opposite side of the table, a 
 few places from him, Denham and Pitt Wright were 
 smoking cigarettes. Pitt Wright was sitting back in 
 his chair with a self-satisfied smile, and Denham was 
 leaning with his elbow on the table talking in a low 
 voice. During a momentary pause, Guy heard him 
 say : ' My dear fellow, any one can see the girl is hard 
 hit. You have taken our one ewe lamb, like the 
 beggar in the Bible.' 
 
 For the life of him Guy could not have helped 
 listening to the answer. ' Well, she certainly is getting 
 rather affectionate. I think it's about time I cleared 
 out.' Denham laughed at the lie, a sneering con- 
 temptuous laugh, though the lie was of his own mak- 
 ing. Guy's heart sank, and he felt as if he could 
 have killed the man who was smiling opposite to him ; 
 but what he had heard none the less smote him with 
 a conviction of truth. He sat through the remainder 
 of St. Orme's story with a dull pain gnawing at his 
 heart ; and directly the story was ended he got up. 
 
 ' Well, I'm off now,' he said ; ' I am not very fit to- 
 night and must turn in early,' and he walked out into 
 the air. 
 
 St. Orme looked after him curiously, and then 
 yawned, twisted up his moustache, and strolled 
 into the anteroom. He did not like Denham or Pitt 
 Wright, and as he turned he looked over them with
 
 XIII THE DIE IS CAST 175 
 
 an open insolent contempt which both saw and re- 
 sented. They spoke evil of him when he was out of 
 hearing, and he said to himself : ' Little cads, those 
 two.' He would have preferred saying it aloud ; but 
 one cannot say all one thinks. 
 
 Guy walked across to his quarters and dropped 
 into a long cane chair in the sitting-room which he 
 shared with Dale. He felt a burning hatred for Pitt 
 Wright, and some indignation against Helen herself. 
 ' They are all alike/ he thought, as he called to mind 
 how little he had seen her of late. ' She knows the 
 brute's got money and chucks me over like an old 
 glove.' It did not occur to his mind that she had 
 never professed any love for him, and that he had 
 never asked her for it. 
 
 Dale was absent. He had gone over to ]VIj:s. 
 Dangerfield's after dinner. She had asked them both, 
 but Guy would not go when the time came. It was 
 rather unlucky for Guy's peace of mind. He was in 
 a humour when a longing for sympathy might have 
 been too strong for his reserve ; and, if he had spoken 
 to his friend. Dale's breezy common sense and belief 
 in him would have swept away the mist. As it was, 
 Guy sat alone smoking and drinking whisky and soda- 
 water, and brooding in silence, for an hour or more. 
 
 Nevertheless, as he sat, a feeling gradually came to 
 him that after all he was perhaps distressing himself 
 unnecessarily. Denham's assertion and Pitt Wright's 
 reply might be quite untrue. The one might have
 
 176 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 been more chaff than earnest, and the other merely the 
 conceited boast of a flattered man. How often he had 
 heard chaff of the kind before and attached no import- 
 ance to it. His mind swayed this way and that in 
 alternations of fear and hope, but gradually the hope 
 became more definite. * Anyhow, I will go over and 
 settle it one way or another,' he said to himself at last. 
 ' Anything is better than this.' Even then Guy did 
 not put clearly before himself the idea of marriage. 
 He was only filled with desire to know that Helen 
 loved him. It would be enough for the present if he 
 could make certain that Pitt Wright had been lying, 
 and that he himself was dear to her. If he had been 
 older, he might perhaps have been more cautious and 
 have thought it all out more definitely before acting, 
 but he was young and reckless. It did not occur to 
 him that if he married Helen he would be throwing 
 himself away, or that any one could think so. Few 
 men are snobs at three -and -twenty. He did not 
 entertain any exaggerated idea of his own value ; and 
 if he thought of his own people at all, he thought they 
 had only to see her. But, in truth, he hardly thought 
 of them yet. With all his indolence, perhaps because 
 of it, his natural tendency was to act without troubling 
 himself much beforehand as to the opinion of others. 
 In a few words he was young and in love, and he was 
 goaded by jealousy. Who stops to think it all out at 
 his age? Have we not life before us, and strong 
 hands and hot hearts ?
 
 XIII THE DIE IS CAST 177 
 
 Guy was happier when he had made up his mind. 
 He straightened himself in his chair with a sigh of 
 relief, and called for another ' peg ' in a voice that was 
 no longer despairing. Then he got into bed and fell 
 asleepf dreaming of love and happiness. 
 
 In the small hours of the morning Dale arrived. 
 He had walked home after a merry evening and 
 supper. The servants were rolled up on the floor in the 
 back verandah, fast asleep, and the lamp in the sitting- 
 room had burnt itself out. Dale felt his way cautiously 
 across to the door of his own room with his hands in 
 front of him; but he stumbled over the wooden arm 
 of Guy's long chair, upon which Guy had left his 
 empty tumbler. This fell on the edge of the seat and 
 broke, and Dale swore. The shiver of glass woke 
 Guy up, and he heard Dale grope his way intg the 
 next room. A miserable sense of something being 
 wrong came upon him, and looking into his memory 
 he recalled Pitt Wright's words. The sudden remem- 
 brance made him groan and turn upon his bed in a 
 torture of jealous wretchedness. Then his mind rapidly 
 recaught the line of thought which had comforted him 
 before, and he felt better again. After that he began 
 to tell himself that things always looked black at 
 night, and that all would be brighter in the morning. 
 The thought of the day, with its sunshine and action, 
 soothed him, and he fell asleep. When he finally 
 woke at eight o'clock, he did so with a beating heart 
 and a sense of excitement; but the excitement was 
 
 VOL. I N
 
 178 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 not altogether unpleasing. His natural hopefulness 
 had come to his rescue. 
 
 It was Dale's turn for church parade, which Guy 
 was not sorry for ; and he drove off alone after break- 
 fast to the Civil station. The cold weather was lasting 
 well and the air was still pleasant, but the sun was 
 strong and the little church felt cool and refreshing. 
 He was just in time, and as he took his seat he 
 noticed with satisfaction that his enemy was not in 
 the Commissioner's pew. Colonel Treveryan was 
 sitting in it alone. ' I'm glad the brute isn't there,' 
 Guy thought in a truly Christian spirit. Then it 
 suddenly struck him that Helen might have stayed at 
 home too, and he looked round at the gallery. No, 
 she was there all right. He caught her eyes, and it 
 made his heart jump. He turned round hastily, and 
 did not see the blush that sprang to her face. Hunter 
 saw it and smiled to himself. 
 
 The prayers seemed long that morning, and the 
 sermon longer. At times Guy caught Helen's voice in 
 the singing ; it was his only pleasure during the 
 service. At last it ended, and he was able to go out- 
 side and await her. When she came down from the 
 gallery and saw him, there was something in his face 
 which attracted her attention at once. It was a look 
 of inquiry and eagerness which was unusual to him. 
 He was embarrassed, and his embarrassment com- 
 municated itself to her. However, this was only 
 momentary. They had hardly shaken hands when
 
 XIII THE DIE IS CAST 179 
 
 they were joined by Colonel Treveryan, who had been 
 talking to Mrs. Hunter. * Good morning, Langley,' he 
 said. ' Are you coming over to lunch ? ' 
 
 ' I shall be very glad, if you will have me.' 
 
 'That's right. Is Dale coming too ?' 
 
 ' No, Colonel, he is on duty to-day.' 
 
 ' Come along with us then, and tell your man to 
 bring your trap round.' 
 
 Guy followed Helen into the Treveryans' carriage, 
 which was open, and drove up with them. Helen was 
 looking very bright and happy, with a warm colour in 
 her face; and as he sat opposite, her dress touching 
 him and her sweet eyes looking straight into his when 
 she spoke, he wished the drive were ten miles long. 
 When they got near the house Colonel Treveryan 
 said : ' I am going on if you will excuse me. I want 
 to see Oldham, and he was not in church. I shall be 
 back in half an hour. Shall I bring him over to 
 lunch, Nell ? ' 
 
 'Yes, do, father. Tell him it is my order. We 
 have not seen him for a week.' 
 
 Guy and Helen got out of the carriage, and walked 
 up the steps. At the top, between the pillars of the 
 porch, they found Pitt Wright sitting in an easy chair 
 smoking a cigarette. He had been reading some 
 papers, which were lying about on the matting. He 
 nodded slightly to Guy, and, without any attempt to 
 rise from his chair, said to Helen : ' Well, did the little 
 Padre give you a good sermon ?'
 
 i8o HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 ' Yes, very good/ she said, and was passing on into 
 the hall when he lazily put out his hand over the arm 
 of his chair as if to stop her. 
 
 'Don't go,' he said in his throaty voice. 'Come 
 and sit down, and tell me all about it.' 
 
 Helen moved aside. ' I must go and take my 
 things off ' was all she said in answer ; but the tone of 
 her voice pleased Guy in the midst of his wrath. He 
 would not trust himself to stay outside with Pitt 
 Wright, and he followed her into the hall, passing 
 straight through to the drawing - room as she disap- 
 peared into her own rooms to the right. He had not 
 waited long when she came back. Something in her face 
 and carriage emboldened him, and he said : ' Let us go 
 and sit in the south verandah. It is pleasanter there.' 
 
 She looked back through the hall to where Pitt 
 Wright was sitting; then she turned and walked 
 through the dining-room. As they came into the 
 verandah Guy said to her, 'How long is Mr. Pitt 
 Wright going to stay ?' 
 
 The answer was emphatic. ' He is going to- 
 morrow, thank goodness.' 
 
 ' Then you don't like him ?' 
 
 ' Like him ! ' she said, with a flushing cheek and 
 something very like a stamp of the little foot. 'Like 
 him ! I detest him and his insolent ways. He would 
 never dare to behave in England as he does out here. 
 Oh, if only he were not in our house and I were not 
 obliged to stand it !'
 
 XIII THE DIE IS CAST i8i 
 
 Guy's delight only gave tlie spur to his indignation. 
 ' I am not obliged to stand it,' he said. ' Shall I take 
 him in hand and give him a kicking? There is 
 nothing I should like so much.' Guy was very young. 
 
 Helen was young too, but she was a woman. M 
 wish some one would/ she could not help saying ; 
 then she laughed and pulled herself up. ' But you 
 must not talk like that. I daresay he means no harm. 
 It is only that I am not accustomed to be treated in 
 that sort of way, and it makes me lose my temper. 
 It is very silly of me.' 
 
 Guy was supremely happy in his position of con- 
 fidant. * Do hand him over to me,' he said ; ' I have 
 often longed to have it out with him on my own 
 account. He's a horrid cad ; and I don't think I 
 should have stood him till now if he had not been 
 your guest.' 
 
 Helen began to be embarrassed at Guy's earnest 
 face and manner, and she felt rather ashamed of what 
 she had said and let him say. ' No, no, Mr. Langley,' 
 she answered, ' you must behave properly. I ought 
 not to have spoken like that. Please don't think 
 anything more about it, or it will make me very 
 uncomfortable.' 
 
 Guy could not look into her eyes and restrain him- 
 self ' I wish you would give me the right,' he began 
 in a voice that was a caress. 
 
 With all her innocence Helen understood now, and 
 she interrupted him hastily. She was not prepared
 
 1 82 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 for this, and not quite in a humour for it. It startled 
 her at the moment more than it pleased her. There 
 were so many people about. The servants were 
 walking in and out of the dining-room behind them ; 
 and everything was so public. It was a relief to her 
 to see at this moment Goldney's dog-cart coming up 
 the drive. ' Oh, there is Mr. Goldney,' she said, as if 
 she had not heard ; ' I suppose he is coming to lunch. 
 I must go in.' Guy was only incited by the check. 
 ' Stay one minute,' he said, but she walked on into the 
 dining-room. As she did so he remembered that it 
 was his only chance for the day. In the afternoon 
 there would be the usual gathering for tea, and then 
 church again. Guy was desperate. ' Miss Treveryan,' 
 he said, as he walked in with her, ' I must speak to 
 you. I shall come to-morrow.' Her only answer was 
 a burning blush, which covered her cheeks and fore- 
 head and ears as she turned to meet her visitors. 
 Guy could see it mantling into her bright brown hair 
 at the nape of her neck. Goldney saw it too. He 
 was a little surprised at the warmth of his welcome, 
 but he was not deceived by it. It was a warmth 
 born of embarrassment, as he guessed with a pang at 
 his heart. 
 
 A few minutes later Colonel Treveryan arrived, 
 bringing the judge with him, and then the luncheon 
 gong sounded. During the meal Guy did not speak 
 to Helen. Oldham and Pitt Wright sat next her, and 
 she talked to the former. But there were only six of
 
 XIII THE DIE IS CAST 183 
 
 them, and once or twice the talk became general. 
 Once he met her eyes, and again she blushed crimson. 
 He saw that it distressed her, and he refrained from 
 speaking to her any more. Directly after lunch she 
 left them. Guy could not resist stopping till tea-time, 
 but it was useless ; and when the gathering began he 
 ordered his dog- cart. She shook hands with him when 
 he went, and their eyes met again. Guy knew then 
 that she was not angry with him, but she had cut short 
 his offer, and he knew no more. 
 
 As he drove home he felt disappointed, but he was 
 not altogether unhappy. At all events, Helen did not 
 care for Pitt Wright. That maddening doubt had 
 been laid. Did she care for him ? She had not 
 shown much sign of it, but he had hopes. It was 
 clumsy of him to spring a mine upon her like Xhat. 
 Perhaps if he had had a quiet chance it would have 
 been all right. At all events, he was now determined 
 to know. The next day should decide.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 SUSPENSE 
 
 Dale had spent a fairly cheerful day during Guy's 
 
 absence. He had done his duty in the morning, and 
 
 had then gone over and called upon his Colonel's wife 
 
 and tried to play with Mabs, but Mabs had rather 
 
 snubbed him. She had not much respect for Chimp. 
 
 After that he had taken his cheery smile on to Mrs. 
 
 Dangerfield's, and joined her lunch party. She asked 
 
 him where Guy was. 
 
 ' Gone over to church at the Civil station.' 
 
 'As usual. We shall have him reading the 
 
 lessons soon. And on to lunch at the Treveryans', 
 
 I suppose ?' 
 
 'I expect so. He said he should stay if they 
 
 asked him.' 
 
 'That girl is a nuisance. I wish she would take 
 
 the little " Pink 'un" and leave you boys in peace.' 
 ' She is a jolly girl all the same.' 
 ' I daresay, but she is poaching, and I object.' 
 ' I am afraid it's no use, Mrs. Dangerfield. Guy 
 
 can be pretty obstinate when he chooses.'
 
 CHAP. XIV 
 
 SUSPENSE 185 
 
 ' Well, there are some more of you, that's one com- 
 fort ; only he was about the best. I am sorry he has 
 taken to evil courses.' 
 
 Dale did not answer, and the subject dropped. 
 
 After a very merry lunch the party broke up. For 
 a wonder Dale had been tempted to drink some cham- 
 pagne, a ruinous thing to do in India in the middle of 
 the day, and he felt lazy and bored. He strolled over 
 to his quarters and sat down in Guy's long chair, 
 with his little muscular legs up on the projecting 
 arms. 
 
 His dog Jock came in from the compound, where 
 he had been chasing a squirrel. Jock was a queer- 
 looking beast. Dale had bought him as a puppy 
 under the belief that he was going to be a fox-terrier ; 
 but long before he was full-grown it became ^lear 
 that something had gone wrong. He was leggy, and 
 his coat was rougher and thinner than a fox-terrier's 
 has any right to be. You could see the spots on the 
 skin below. His manners, too, bore unmistakable 
 mark of a plebeian origin. They were the manners of 
 the immortal Crab; he never could be taught the 
 least respect for capons or farthingales. At this 
 moment Jock was covered with yellow dust, and Dale 
 told him he was a dirty little devil, and tried to make 
 him lie down on the floor, which he declined to do. 
 He was a republican sort of dog, affectionate enough 
 in his own way, but thoroughly disobedient. If he 
 did not approve of your orders he trotted off quietly.
 
 i86 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 and went to stay with a friend until you were in a 
 more reasonable frame of mind. Sometimes he would 
 stay away a day or two. 
 
 For a few minutes Dale sat quiet, cogitating upon 
 the nature of dogs in general and fox-terriers in par- 
 ticular. He still regarded Jock as a fox-terrier. 
 ' Eummy little beggars/ he thought to himself, ' always 
 chivvying something. Wonder why they can't leave 
 squirrels and things alone.' Then it gradually dawned 
 upon him that he was always chivvying something 
 too. ' I'm blest if we're not rather like that ourselves. 
 Small blame to us either. Life would not be much 
 good if there were no sport to be got.' 
 
 Abstruse thought, however, was not Dale's line, and 
 he looked round the room for something to amuse him. 
 His eye fell on a small square table, upon which lay 
 a pile of Guy's books. It was within reach, and 
 he pulled it towards his chair, and turned over the 
 volumes. 
 
 * Poetry books,' he said to himself, with a face of 
 disgust. 'I can't make Guy out. He can shoot and 
 ride and play polo and all that, so it's not as if he was- 
 an ass and fit for nothing else ; and yet he will sit 
 reading this rot by the hour together.' Chimp was not 
 born under a rhyming planet. 
 
 He took up a copy of Wordsworth, and opened it 
 at random, and turned over a page or two until he 
 came to a passage Guy had marked. Chimp read it 
 out aloud —
 
 XIV SUSPENSE 187 
 
 A violet by a mossy stone, 
 Half-hidden from the eye ; 
 Fair as a star, when only one 
 Is shining in the sky. 
 
 * That is rather jolly/ he said. He read the pre- 
 ceding verse, and then the last. The closing lines he 
 
 repeated — 
 
 But she is in her grave, and ! 
 The difference to me ! 
 
 ' "Well, I suppose, that would make one feel a bit 
 cheap, but I don't see many points in it all the same 
 — as poetry. There's no go about it. Besides, any 
 fool could say a thing like that.' After this he 
 looked at Harry Gill, but Wordsworth did not suit 
 him. ' Drivel,' he said, as he put it down, and opened 
 Shelley. The volume was scored in all directions by 
 Guy's pencil - marks, but to Chimp's mind Guy's 
 admiration was not comprehensible. He looked at 
 bits of The Skylark, and The Cloud, and other marked 
 pieces. 
 
 The desire of the moth for the star, 
 
 Of the night for the morrow, 
 
 The devotion to something afar 
 
 From the sphere of our sorrow. 
 
 ' Very pretty, I daresay. I don't see the force of 
 it myself. Milton, — oh, that's the old bird who 
 wrote the Allegro, that they made us learn at Bob 
 Sayers's before I went to Harrow. There it is, by 
 Jove ! How I hated it, and the other thing, Fenseroso ;
 
 1 88 HELEN TREVERYAN • chap. 
 
 that was worse. It's a beastly shame to make little 
 beggars of ten or eleven learn those hard pieces, all 
 full of Latin names and things, when they can't 
 understand them. I believe that is what set me 
 against poetry. I daresay I should have been no 
 end fond of it if I had had a chance. I like really 
 good poetry awfully now.' 
 
 But hark the cry is Astur, and see the ranks divide, 
 
 And the great Lord of Luna comes with his — something 
 
 — stride ; 
 Upon his ample shoulders clangs loud the fourfold shield, 
 And in his hand the mighty brand that none but he can 
 
 wield. 
 
 ' That's the sort of thing. That makes you sit up.' 
 He looked for a copy of Macaulay, but it was not 
 there. ' I know he has got it,' Chimp said ; ' I have 
 heard him spout it by the yard.' He went back to 
 Milton with a sigh, and made a heroic attempt to 
 read some of Paradise Lost, but he could not. He 
 found a marked passage in Lycidas — 
 
 Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise, 
 
 That last infirmity of noble mind, 
 
 To scorn delights and live laborious days. 
 
 ' Oh, I daresay, old man. I think I see you 
 scorning delights and living laborious days.' 
 
 Were it not better done as others use, 
 To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, 
 Or with the tangles of Neeera's hair ? 
 
 'Beastly untidy of Nesera, but that's more his
 
 XIV SUSPENSE 189 
 
 form just now, poor old chap. It is a dangerous 
 game. If he gets bowled over, won't old Lady Mary 
 cut up rough neither ? She's a jolly girl, but I don't 
 expect she's got a bob ; and he hasn't got too much. 
 I wish I could give him some.' 
 
 Chimp remained in a brown study for a while, 
 thinking of his friend, and his friend's home where 
 he had spent a week the year before ; then he 
 returned to his poetry. He opened Coleridge, and 
 skimmed through the Ancient Mariner, and then came 
 upon the Vision of Kubla Khan. He read how 
 Coleridge had composed the poem in his sleep, and 
 how it had been driven out of his head by the man 
 on business from Porlock. ' What a jolly lie,' Chimp 
 said ; . ' I bet he got stumped, and did not know how to 
 finish it. Don't wonder either.' 
 
 Then he tried Keats, but that was hopeless. The 
 would-be classical pictures seemed to him eminently 
 foolish, as indeed they were ; and he did not care for 
 the verse. He managed to read through Lamia. 
 ' Beastly shame,' he said. ' Why couldn't the old 
 beggar leave them alone ? She was not doing any 
 harm, and they were having a real good time. Awful 
 hard luck on both of them.' 
 
 Chimp had reached the bottom of the pile now, 
 and there he found an unpretending little volume in 
 brown. * May as well go right through,' he thought. 
 * Guy will laugh when I tell him I have read the 
 whole lot. Gordon, — Scotchman, I suppose. All
 
 190 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 about bonny lasses and wee bit bairns.' He opened 
 tbe book and read a marked passage — 
 
 She rose when I hit her, I saw the stream glitter, 
 A wide scarlet nostril flashed close by my knee, 
 Between sky and water the Clown came and caught her, 
 The space that he cleared was a caution to see. 
 
 'By George, that's something like.' He read 
 through the piece with keen enjoyment and then 
 turned to the title-page again. ' Gordon, — Adam 
 Lindsay Gordon. I remember now Guy asked me 
 whether I had ever read it. That's a ripping piece.' 
 He turned over the leaves and found a mine of wealth 
 — the Sick Stockrider, the Bushranger, the Ride from 
 the Wreck, Britomarte. Chimp was reading lialf-aloud 
 now, reading with enjoyment and enthusiasm. It 
 was a full hour before he put down that delightful 
 book — unequal, even poor in parts, but so full of 
 vigour and poetry. 
 
 At last he yawned and stretched himself: 'Done 
 the whole jolly lot. Guy is having a real innings 
 to-day. Stayed to tea, I suppose.' 
 
 It was getting on towards evening, and Spot, a 
 puppy of Guy's which was tied up in the stables, 
 was making a diabolical noise. It had slept at 
 intervals during the afternoon, but was now broad 
 awake and mad to get loose. Its occasional yelps 
 had changed into an almost ceaseless paroxysm of 
 shrieking. Close by it two syces slept unconcernedly, 
 rolled up in their sheets, and one was quietly smoking.
 
 XIV SUSPENSE 191 
 
 He felt neither pity nor annoyance ; and the other 
 two were in no way disturbed. Natives of India do 
 not seem to mind any noise when they are asleep. 
 Those who are awake never think of moderating their 
 voices on account of a sleeper. Dale was not so 
 philosophic. The hoarse yells of the poor little 
 wretch, as it tore at its rope and half-strangled itself, 
 were more than he could stand ; and, moreover, he 
 thought he would go for a ride before dinner, by way 
 of clearing his head. He strolled out towards the 
 stables and ordered his horse, and let Spot loose. 
 Jock had come up, and the puppy immediately began 
 worrying him, hanging on to his ears and biting, till 
 he turned upon it with a snarl. It looked surprised, 
 and then stood barking at him, with its head down 
 between its paws. But Jock hated the puppy, .and 
 would not play. 
 
 When Dale had looked at the horses he went into 
 the house to change his clothes, and thought no more 
 of the little beast, which had disappeared. It came 
 into the sitting-room soon afterwards, carrying a very 
 nasty bone which it dropped on the floor. The 
 draught was stirring the hanging corner of a table- 
 cloth, which looked bright and inviting. Guy was 
 fond of pretty things, and had covered an old- 
 fashioned round table at one side of the room with a 
 piece of embroidered Delhi work. The puppy fixed 
 his sharp little teeth in the hanging piece and worried 
 it savagely, backing across the floor and shaking his
 
 192 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 head. Before long a book was pulled to the edge of 
 the table and fell on the matting with a slap, which 
 startled the pnppy and made him jump away with his 
 tail down. His terror, however, was only momentary. 
 He stood looking at the book for a second or two 
 with his head on one side, and then came back and 
 smelt it. Apparently the result was satisfactory, for 
 his next move was to lie down on the floor and treat 
 the book as a bone. He got his side teeth well home 
 on a corner of it, and chewed off a bit of the cover, 
 leaving a very ragged edge and some sharp tooth- 
 marks beyond. 
 
 This was the condition of affairs when Dale came 
 into the room. The puppy looked up, with the book 
 between his fore -paws. Next moment he yelped 
 piteously as he was held up by the skin of the neck. 
 'You mischievous little brute,' Dale said, adminis- 
 tering punishment to the small hanging shivering 
 body. ' I can't leave you for a minute without your 
 being up to some devilry.' Yelp, yelp, yelp ! 
 
 Then the sweeper was called and the culprit 
 taken away whimpering, and Chimp picked up the 
 book. It was a handsome edition of Tennyson's 
 minor poems bound in red morocco with gold edges. 
 ' By Jove, won't Guy swear ! ' he said ; ' he is fond of 
 that book, I know. What beasts puppies are.' After 
 which he put the remains back on the table and went 
 out to the doorstep. Everything was right there. 
 The horse's coat was like satin, and his bit like
 
 XIV SUSPENSE 193 
 
 burnished silver. Dale was getting more and more 
 particular about these things. He mounted and rode 
 out of the gateway, and down the road towards the 
 Civil station. On one side of the road was a bit of 
 country which seemed promising for a paper-chase 
 course, and he wanted to look at it. 
 
 As he rode a verse of Gordon's kept ringing in his 
 ears, and he repeated it aloud with a twirl of his 
 riding-crop — 
 
 But I clove his skull with a back stroke clean, 
 For the glory of God and of Gwendoline. 
 
 He had not gone far when he saw Guy in the 
 distance. They pulled up and spoke to one another 
 for a minute, and Dale offered to go back with him if 
 he would come out too. *No, thanks. Chimp,' he 
 answered. ' I think I will have a quiet smoke before 
 dinner,' 
 
 ' Lazy beggar. Are you dining at mess ? ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' All right. So am I. I shan't be long.' 
 
 He rode off, thinking that Guy looked happier, and 
 wondering whether Helen Treveryan had anything to 
 do with it ; but in a few minutes his thoughts turned 
 to more serious matters. As he had guessed, it would 
 do very well. There were some very pretty jumps, 
 chiefly mud walls with ditches, which could be improved 
 in parts; one or two artificial water channels, and 
 some rolling ground, with thick timber in patches, and 
 here and there impassable lines of wall and water. 
 
 VOL. I
 
 194 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 Altogether a good, varied, broken country, not too 
 open, but within the powers of any one who meant 
 going and had a horse that could jump a bit. Chimp 
 put his Waler over one or two mud walls with much 
 satisfaction to himself, the good beast taking them 
 freely even in cold blood. It is curious how kindly 
 most horses will go at mud walls. Then they had a 
 difference of opinion about a little ditch with some 
 water in it, but Dale eventually persuaded the Waler 
 that it was all right. When he got back to his 
 quarters, he had worked off his lunch and was in 
 good spirits. 
 
 So apparently was Guy, for when Dale went into 
 his room, where he was dressing for dinner, Guy was 
 whistling John Peel. It is true that he was rather 
 abstracted, and did not appear to take much interest 
 in the account of the paper-chase course ; but he was 
 cheerful. Suddenly his cheerfulness vanished. ' Con- 
 found it ! ' he said with fiery emphasis, stopping in the 
 act of brushing his hair. 
 
 ' What on earth's the matter ? ' 
 
 Guy hesitated, with a scowl on his face. ' Oh, 
 nothing/ he said ; ' only I had forgotten that infernal 
 court-martial.' Poor fellow ! he had been calculating 
 that he could get away after stables and be at the 
 Treveryans' by one o'clock. The disappointment was 
 severe, and he went in to dinner as silent as the night 
 before. Directly it was over he walked back to his 
 quarters again ; and there, after a short time, he was
 
 XIV SUSPENSE 195 
 
 joined by his faithful friend, who could not understand 
 his sudden depression. 
 
 Dale found him sitting in his chair, without a 
 book and looking very gloomy, one hand pressed deep 
 into his pocket and the other holding a cigar. 
 
 ' What is the matter, old man ? ' Dale inquired, 
 seating himself and looking at him curiously. ' You're 
 not seedy, are you ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no. I'm all right.' 
 
 ' You're 7iot all right. I'm certain there is some- 
 thing bothering you. Nothing wrong about money ? ' 
 
 ' Money ? No. I'm all right — really.' 
 
 Dale looked at him rather sadly ; and there came 
 upon Guy a sudden longing for sympathy which he 
 could not control. He sat up in his chair and paused 
 for an instant, and then broke out : ' After all, I don't 
 see why I should tell lies about it. Look here, Chimp, 
 I know you won't talk. It's the old story. I have 
 made a fool of myself; at least, I don't mean that; 
 but — well, you know what I mean. I'm awfully hard 
 hit, old chap, and I daresay you know who it is.' 
 
 There could not be much doubt, and Dale said at 
 once, 'Miss Treveryan, I suppose.' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' Have you said anything to her ? ' 
 
 ' No ; at least, not exactly.' 
 
 'Are you going to? She's an awfully nice girl, 
 Guy; but do you mean that you're going to marry 
 her ? '
 
 196 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 ' Yes, if she'll have me. I can't go on any longer like 
 this. You don't know what it is, Chimp. I thought 
 she cared for that brute Pitt Wright, and it nearly 
 drove me mad.' 
 
 Chimp made a sound expressive of unmitigated 
 scorn. ^ Pitt Wright ! What an ass you are ! She 
 wouldn't touch him with the end of a barge-pole — not 
 while you are there, anyhow. Well, I suppose you 
 know best, old chap ; but how will they take it at 
 home ? ' 
 
 Guy moved uneasily in his chair, as a vision of 
 Lady Mary came across him, but he answered stoutly, 
 ' I'm sure they would be delighted if they knew her ; 
 and anyhow, when I marry, I mean to choose for 
 myself.' 
 
 ' Of course ; quite right too. I only meant that 
 sometimes one's people get in a rise about one. Do 
 you think there's any tin ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know, and I don't care. I wish I knew 
 whether she would have me.' 
 
 ' Have you ? Of course she'll have you. I'd bet 
 my bottom dollar on that.' 
 
 ' Do you think so really ? I believe I should shoot 
 myself if she refused.' 
 
 Dale burst out laughing. ' What rot, Guy ! She 
 won't refuse, and you would not shoot yourself if she 
 did.' 
 
 Guy was getting happier every minute. The secret 
 was out, and Dale's cheery confidence raised his spirits.
 
 XIV SUSPENSE 197 
 
 As to the future, let that take care of itself. Had he 
 not a whole lifetime before him ? Whatever came of 
 it, he must hear those sweet lips say they loved him. 
 All would come right somehow ; it always did. They 
 stayed talking over it for an hour, and as he talked Guy 
 grew more and more enthusiastic. The slight under- 
 current of doubt and warning in Dale's words and 
 manner only spurred him on. Before they separated 
 he had made up his mind. 
 
 ' Well, good-night, old man,' Dale said at parting. 
 ' Think it over well. It's a big jump to take. Good 
 luck any way, whatever you do.' 
 
 ' I have thought it over,' Guy said. ' Good-night.' 
 He went into his room and began to write to 
 Helen. At first the words came glibly enough, but 
 then there was a check, and he could not get it exactly 
 right. Dale had been sleeping peacefully for a full 
 hour, and Guy — it sounds unromantic — had been 
 obliged to refresh himself with a long tumbler of 
 whisky and soda before he was satisfied. Everything 
 was silent as he read over his final copy of the letter 
 which was to decide his fate. The weary bearer who 
 brought him his 'peg' had put out the lights and 
 rolled himself up in his sheet and gone to sleep again 
 in the verandah. There was not a sound to be heard, 
 except at intervals a horse moving sleepily in the 
 stable, and the faint, distant barking of some village 
 dogs. The house and all around it lay calm and still 
 in the moonlight. Guy's letter was as follows: —
 
 198 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 Dear Miss Treveryan — I hoped to have been able to 
 come over to-morrow, but I find I am on duty and cannot get 
 away until the evening, when you said you had some people to 
 tennis. I cannot wait another day on the chance of seeing you, 
 and must therefore write. I think you know what I wanted to 
 say to you. It is no use my saying much. If you can give me 
 what alone I care to have — your love — you have given it to me 
 already. If you have not given it to me, no protestations on my 
 part would make you do so. Will you send me a few lines as 
 soon as you can, and tell me whether I have had the wonderful 
 good fortune to win what is more to me than all the world 1 
 I shall await your answer very anxiously. You have given me 
 no right to speak to you as I have done ; and you must not 
 reproach yourself in the slightest degree for any pain that you 
 may have to cause me now. Whatever comes, I shall always be 
 glad that I have had the happiness to know you. Please forgive 
 me for writing if I have troubled you by doing so. One line 
 in answer will be enough. Only let it come soon. — Yours 
 very sincerely, Guy Langley. 
 
 Please show this to Colonel Treveryan if you like ; but let 
 me have my answer from yourself, whatever it may be. 
 
 Guy lit a match and carefully burnt the scored and 
 altered sheets which bore his first efforts. There were 
 three of them, each beginning with a good, boldly- 
 written sentence or two, and ending in a chaos of 
 scribbles. He pressed the charred remains into powder 
 in a waste-paper basket which he kept by his writing- 
 table ; then he went over his letter again. It read to 
 him rather curt and broken up, and the words 'You 
 have given me no right' worried him. He had got 
 two ' givens ' before. But he could not alter the 
 sentence quite to his mind. ' I have no right ' was 
 not what he meant. He left the point open and
 
 XIV SUSPENSE 199 
 
 passed on to the ending. In his second attempt he 
 had left out the * Yours very sincerely,' which seemed 
 to him a cool conclusion to such a letter, and, after 
 rejecting some other forms, had written simply, 'let it 
 come soon. — Guy Langley.' When writing the final 
 copy this struck him as rather theatrical and French, 
 and he had put back the conventional words. ISTow 
 he thought he had better leave them in. They accorded 
 better with the tone of rather proud submission in 
 which he flattered himself his letter was couched. 
 Finally, he concluded to let the other sentence alone 
 too. After all, it conveyed what he meant to convey ; 
 and the mere verbal inelegance, if noticed, would only 
 show that he was not thinking too much of the manner 
 of his communication. ' Let it be,' he thought to 
 himself, 'till morning at all events. I can always 
 alter it then.' He put the letter in an envelope, which 
 he closed. An odd thought crossed his mind that if, 
 by any chance, he died in the night he would like 
 Helen to get the letter ; and he addressed it carefully 
 to 'Miss Treveryan, Syntia.' Then, with a sigh of 
 relief, he undressed and got into bed, thinking how 
 curious it was that he should be acting in such a calm 
 and matter-of-fact way at the great crisis of his life. 
 In a few minutes he was asleep. 
 
 When Guy woke in the morning he had to decide 
 whether to send off his letter or not. He opened 
 the envelope and read it again. It did not quite 
 please him. He had a certain artistic sense of
 
 200 HELEN TREVERYAN chap, xiv 
 
 finish, and he would have liked to alter it a little; 
 but he shrank from the trouble and anxiety involved, 
 and he had hardly time. After a few seconds of 
 hesitation he put it in a fresh envelope, which he 
 addressed to Helen. Then he called for a syce, and 
 told him to take the letter to the Commissioner 
 Sahib's and bring an answer. 
 
 When he was gone, Guy felt in thoroughly good 
 spirits. The thing was done; and he believed in 
 his heart that he knew what the answer would be. 
 Throughout the day he did all he had to do smartly 
 and attentively, without any apparent preoccupation, 
 and though at times the remembrance of his letter 
 flashed across him and made his heart thrill, he 
 waited patiently enough, his strongest feeling being 
 still a feeling of wonder at his own calmness. It 
 was not until the afternoon that he began to be 
 at all uneasy at the non-return of his messenger ; 
 and even then, though it surprised him a little, he 
 accounted for it sensibly in a dozen different ways. 
 He was even pleased at the reflection that, when 
 the answer came, he would be free and able to 
 think about it, instead of being in a room with 
 a lot of other men and obliged to attend to what 
 was going on.
 
 CHAPTEE XV 
 
 ENGAGED 
 
 When Guy Langley left Colonel Treveryan's house 
 there was only a short iuuerval before evening church, 
 and several of the party drove down together. Helen 
 always went as she had to play the harmonium, and 
 Hunter went to support her. 
 
 That evening's service was one never to be for- 
 gotten. As she drove down she was still feeling 
 very restless and upset; but when she got to her 
 seat she made a resolute effort to control herself. 
 As she knelt with her face in her hands, praying, 
 with a woman's ready self-reproach, that her thoughts 
 might be kept from wandering, a sense of stillness 
 and peace came upon her. She accepted it thank- 
 fully as an answer to her prayer, and rose with quiet 
 happiness in her heart. Guy's name had not passed 
 her lips. I^ot even upon her knees could she confess 
 as yet the love of which she had hardly recognised 
 the existence. All she asked now was that she might 
 be made less unfit for the worship in which she was 
 engaged — as if love were a sin. After that, with
 
 202 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 the help of the music, she had no difficulty in keeping 
 her thoughts upon the service, and even upon the 
 little Padre's sermon. Then came the evening hymn. 
 She sang it with a full heart, the sweet Abide with Me 
 that has brought comfort to so many, putting the seal 
 upon the day of rest and driving away for a few 
 hours the last relics of the fret and striving of the 
 week. There were some quiet good-nights in the 
 church-porch, and then Helen drove back through the 
 darkness. 
 
 The evening dragged. Helen felt as if so much 
 had happened to her, and so long ago. She wanted 
 to get away and think it all over quietly ; and 
 Pitt Wright's voice and conversation jarred on her 
 more than ever. He had somehow found an opening 
 for one of his favourite arguments, and was engaged 
 in demonstrating with much satisfaction to himself 
 that patriotism was only a form of selfishness. He 
 thought his hearers did not understand him, and was 
 very urgent in his explanations. As a matter of 
 fact, both of them understood him perfectly well; 
 but they were bored by the foolish old conceit, the 
 truth and falsehood of which they had long before 
 realised. Helen was always impatient of this class 
 of reasoning. She felt that, whether it was selfish- 
 ness or not, a man who was without a strong love of 
 country was never worth much. When Pitt Wright 
 went on to scoff at our insular conceit, and to say 
 that in many respects we were inferior to our neigh-
 
 XV ENGAGED 203 
 
 bours, and that sooner or later we should of course 
 fall to our proper level, as others had done, she fairly 
 lost her temper. ' If those are our feelings we deserve 
 to fall,' she said hotly. ' We should certainly never 
 have been what we are if Englishmen had always 
 thought as you do.' 
 
 Colonel Treveryan looked at her and abruptly 
 changed the conversation, and she was silent. Then 
 she began thinking of Guy Langley again, and of 
 what he had said to her. She could not help 
 contrasting him with Pitt Wright. How different 
 he was, with his straight eyes and courteous manners 
 and gallant bearing. This man had not a spark 
 of soldierly feeling in him. You could not imagine 
 him risking his life for anything in the world. 
 
 When ten o'clock struck, Helen suggested ihat 
 it was time for her father to have his cigar. Pitt 
 Wright wished to smoke too, so she said good-night 
 and went to her room. She had been debating in 
 her own mind whether she ought to tell her father 
 what Guy had said. She shrank from doing so, 
 for, after all, he had said very little, and might 
 say no more ; and she had not thought it all out 
 yet. It was a relief to put off saying anything. 
 
 When she had dismissed her ayaJi, Helen sat 
 down in a low chair and gave herself up to her 
 thoughts. Now that she could look quietly back 
 upon what had passed, she felt that, if she had 
 allowed him, Guy would certainly have asked her
 
 204 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 to be his wife. She remembered, with a thrill at 
 her heart which made her colour hotly even now, 
 the eager look in his eyes. Yes, she could not 
 be mistaken; he did care for her. The discovery 
 had startled her at first : it rejoiced her now. Then 
 she put it to herself: Did she really care for him 
 in return? The answer was not long in coming. 
 He seemed to her everything that a soldier should 
 be — manly and gentle and courteous, and withal so 
 bright and handsome. Whatever the men about 
 him could do he could do, and do well; and not 
 one of them had his deep feeling, his love for all 
 that was good and beautiful, his taste for poetry 
 and music and art, his faith in her God. She 
 deceived herself, of course, to some extent. She 
 did not realise how a quick sympathetic nature can 
 catch, and reflect for a time, the most beautiful 
 feelings of others." JSTevertheless, it was not sur- 
 prising that she thought highly of him, and that, 
 with her romantic girlish heart, she should have 
 imagined herself unworthy of so perfect a knight. 
 ' What is there in me,' she thought, ' that he should 
 care for me ? ' She sat long pondering over it all — 
 a motherless girl who had to work out her life 
 problem alone; and when she rose from her chair, 
 her way had become plain to her. Since the morning, 
 when she had risen as innocent and thoughtless as 
 a child, love had laid his finger on her heart, 
 the scales had fallen from her eyes, and the woman
 
 XV ENGAGED 205 
 
 in her had suddenly leapt into life. She was innocent 
 still, with the marvellous snow-white innocence of 
 a pure-hearted girl; but she could never again be 
 a child. As she rose, trembling at the new-born 
 feeling within her, and yet rejoicing, it came to 
 her with a sudden pang that perhaps after all Guy 
 would never speak again as he had done ; but this 
 time she drove away the thought. She knew now 
 that she loved him, and she would not doubt. Already 
 she felt as if doubt were disloyalty to him. 
 
 When Helen Treveryan laid her head on her 
 pillow and fell asleep, Guy Langley was finishing 
 his letter to her ; and at the same time her father's 
 guest, on the other side of the house, got into bed, 
 leaving a closed envelope on his writing-table. It 
 was addressed to Mrs. Pitt Wright, Mereham Hall, 
 Norfolk, and contained the following letter : — 
 
 Syntia, India, 
 2Uh January 1876. 
 
 My dear Mother — I don't suppose you have the vaguest 
 idea where Syntia is. I never heard of it till I came here. 
 I know it well enough now, worse luck, having been condemned 
 for my sins to spend a whole month in the wretched place 
 waiting for my shooting-party to get ready. They have taken 
 their time about it, but I join them to-morrow, and hope to 
 get some tigers. I shall come home by a steamer that leaves 
 Bombay about the middle of February, and shall not be sorry 
 to get back to civilisation, though I am rather glad I saw 
 the Delhi business and the Taj, etc. I suppose you got my 
 letter telling you all about it. 
 
 I don't know why on earth I was sent here. It's the
 
 2o6 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 slowest hole you can imagine — nothing to do but snipe-shooting 
 or pig-sticking. They wanted me to go and see some ruins 
 in the jungle and other 'sights,' but I have had enough of 
 that sort of thing, and politely declined. I have been staying 
 with some people of the name of Treveryan. The father is 
 what they call a Commissioner. He is regarded as a great 
 man out here, and gets absurdly high j)ay — three or four 
 thousand a year, I believe. He is not a bad fellow in his 
 way, and has done me well enough ; but out here people 
 are only too glad to put you up as long as you like to 
 stay. They don't get a chance very often of seeing any one. 
 It's about time I went now, though. The old boy has got 
 a rather pretty daughter, and he leaves us alone a good 
 deal. I'm obliged to be civil to her while I am staying 
 in the house, so she's got me in a corner. However, I 
 have defended myself successfully so far, and I am off to-morrow, 
 so I think I am safe. If I don't write again, you can expect 
 me about the middle of March. I shall stay a day or two 
 in town, and then come on to Mereham. — Yours ever, 
 
 H. Pitt Wright. 
 
 After breakfast next morning, Pitt Wright gave 
 over this letter to Helen Treveryan, asking her to 
 have it posted ; and then he shook hands with her 
 and looked into her honest eyes, and said good-bye, 
 and added, 'Thank you for a very pleasant visit. 
 I hope some day we may meet again in England,' 
 and was gone. And the native servants, who had 
 hung about in expectation of a tip, hiding themselves 
 from their master's eye, saw the rich English gentle- 
 man upon whom they had waited for a month depart 
 with all his boxes, leaving never a rupee behind him 
 to comfort their souls. The poor sweeper and water-
 
 XV ENGAGED 207 
 
 carrier, who were acciistomed to neglect, only gazed 
 at him wistfully from outside the verandah, and turned 
 away to their labours with a sigh ; hut Mohun, the 
 head bearer, looked scornful ; and Maula Baksh, the 
 Mahometan table servant, who had been specially 
 obsequious and attentive, said to his fellow Daulat 
 Khan, while his black moustache quivered with 
 indignation, ' What sort of a custom is this ? This 
 is not a Sahih! But what was the use of giving 
 them anything ? He would never be there again. 
 
 Helen Treveryan stood on the steps with Eex to see 
 the carriage go off. Colonel Treveryan driving his 
 guest down to the station. As they drove away, she 
 re-entered the house with a hearty expression of relief. 
 
 It was a trying morning. She felt sure that Guy 
 Langley would come over, but she did not expect him 
 before one o'clock, as he would have ' stables ' after 
 parade. She had therefore some hours before her. 
 She made a resolute effort to think of other things, 
 and for a time she was able to find occupation in her 
 household work. This, however, did not last very long • 
 and by eleven o'clock she was beginning to feel very 
 restless and unsettled, and to wonder why her father 
 had not returned. She took out some breakfast to 
 Jacko the monkey, who lived on the top of a pole by 
 the front door, and she paid a visit to the stables and 
 gave the horses some bits of sugar-cane, and then went 
 into her room and stood for a time at her window, 
 thinking with a beating heart of what was coming upon
 
 2o8 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 her. As she looked out upon the dry grass sward, a 
 little gray squirrel ran across from the clump of casuarina 
 trees and jumped on to her verandah. The tiny creature 
 attracted her attention, and roused her from her day 
 dream. She looked at it for a time as it ran about in 
 little jerks, with its nose on the ground and its tail in 
 the air, and then she thought she would go to her 
 piano and do some practising. She was on the point 
 of turning away w^hen she saw a man walking up the 
 avenue of mango trees from the western gateway. 
 Something told her that his coming was of im- 
 portance to her, and she watched him as he advanced 
 towards the house, walking easily as if in no way pressed. 
 He wore no livery, but she could see from his dress, as 
 he passed in and out of the tree-trunks, that he was 
 a sijce, and when he came close to her she recognised 
 Guy Langley's servant. He passed by the corner 
 of the house, going towards the front door, and as he 
 did so, Helen dropped into a chair and covered her face 
 with her hands. Her heart stopped for a second, and 
 then throbbed heavily once or twice, and she felt the 
 blood rush to her face. She had barely time to control 
 herself when she heard the bearer's voice calling to her 
 at the door of her outer room. 
 
 ' Miss Sahib ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. What is it ? ' 
 
 ' A letter.' 
 
 She walked to the curtained door, behind which the 
 man was standing, and put her hand out. It seemed to
 
 XV ENGAGED 209 
 
 her that he must guess her secret if he saw her face, 
 and even her voice sounded as if it must betray her. 
 She need not have been troubled. Her correspondence 
 was large, and Mohun regarded the letter as an invitation, 
 or an answer to an invitation. He asked whether the 
 man was to wait for a reply, and Helen said she would 
 see, and went back into her bedroom. There she 
 opened her letter with trembling hands and read what 
 Guy had written. For a minute or two afterwards she 
 sat with the letter in her lap, and her heart beating 
 wildly ; then she read it again, and thought it the most 
 beautiful letter that ever was written, proud and tender 
 and manly, just what she would have expected from 
 him. She felt as if she had had it a long time, as if 
 it had come many hours ago and become quite familiar 
 to her. One lives fast at the supreme moments of life. 
 Helen's next feeling was one of impatience for the 
 return of her father. Until he came she could do 
 nothing. In the meantime she went out and told 
 Mohun to keep the syce waiting ; she would send an 
 answer after she had spoken to the Commissioner Sahib. 
 She could face Mohun boldly now. There was still a 
 tumult at her heart ; but in place of restlessness and fear 
 there were rising in it pride and joy, and a sense of 
 power. She knew well enough now what her answer 
 would be. 
 
 Colonel Treveryan did not keep her waiting long. 
 Ten minutes more and she heard the trot of his horses 
 in the distance, and saw him drive up, a cigar in his 
 VOL. I p
 
 210 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 mouth, wholly unconscious of the crisis. He had taken 
 advantage of the break in his morning's work to 
 drive round and see Hunter about some business-matter 
 which he wanted to settle. Now he would have gone 
 straight into his office, where some native officials were 
 awaiting him, but Helen came out and caught him as he 
 got down. ' Can you spare me a minute, father ? ' she 
 said. ' I want to speak to you.' 
 
 The tone of her voice struck him, and he looked up 
 at her with some curiosity as she stood on the steps 
 above him. ' All right, Nell. Fire away.' 
 ' Would you mind coming into my room ? ' 
 He walked up the steps and put his hat on the 
 stand and followed her, wondering vaguely whether 
 anything was wrong. When he was safe in her room 
 she handed him Guy's letter. ' This came while you 
 were out, father.' 
 
 Colonel Treveryan read the letter in silence, and 
 then it went slowly down, and he looked at her. She 
 was standing in front of him with her eyes fixed upon 
 his face. They dropped, and her cheek flushed. 
 ' Look at me, Nell,' he said gently, and he put his hand 
 on her shoulder. Helen looked up, and a pang came 
 to her heart. She had never realised until now what 
 it would be to him. Now she realised it suddenly as 
 she saw the look of sad inquiry in his eyes. The 
 doubt faded out of them without a word being spoken, 
 but the sadness deepened. Poor fellow ! she was all 
 he had now, and he had got to love her very dearly.
 
 XV ENGAGED 211 
 
 The blow had fallen quite unexpectedly too ; and just 
 at first he could not help feeling sore and miserable. 
 His home must be desolate again, and she who had 
 seemed to care for him so much was ready to leave 
 him for a boy whom she had never seen until a few 
 months before. It was hard. After a second or 
 two he said, ' Why did you not tell me before, 
 Nell ? ' 
 
 ' I did not know, father. He said nothing until 
 yesterday, and then ... it was only just a word or 
 two. I meant to speak to you last night, but I had 
 no chance ; and ... I was not sure.' 
 
 ' I wish you had told me. You have not answered 
 yet?' 
 
 ' No, father.' 
 
 ' You want to answer now, I suppose ; and to. give 
 him what he asks for ? ' 
 
 Helen felt depressed ; but she remembered Guy's 
 letter and answered gently : ' I have given it already, 
 father dear.' 
 
 Colonel Treveryan sighed — a long sad sigh. ' Very 
 well. Ask him to come over and see me to-morrow 
 morning. He could come to breakfast, I daresay.' 
 Then he stooped and kissed her, and turned away 
 sharply, his lips quivering. 
 
 Helen could not let him go like this. A wave of 
 contrition and sorrow came over her, and she felt for 
 the moment as if she could give up even Guy for his 
 sake. She laid her hand on his arm and stopped him.
 
 212 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 ' Don't be angry with me, daddy. I really did not 
 know. Tell me what you want me to do.' 
 
 Her father turned and drew her towards him until 
 the bright brown head was against his breast. He 
 kissed her hair and stroked it, trying to control his 
 voice. ' Forgive me, Nell,' he said at last, ' I'm a 
 selfish beast ; but I do want you to be happy.' 
 
 Helen caught one of his hands and held it. ' You 
 do like him, father ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I like him very much indeed. I think he is 
 the finest young fellow I know, and I ought to be 
 ashamed of myself. It was only that I could not 
 stand the thought of losing you.' 
 
 'You will never lose me, father dear. I shall 
 always be just the same to you.' 
 
 Colonel Treveryan smiled and kissed her head 
 again very gently. He knew too well. ' Now, Nell, I 
 must go and get to my work. Don't let yourself be 
 bothered by anything I said. I am really very glad 
 indeed ; and I shall soon get accustomed to the idea. 
 I must have been blind not to have seen it before, but 
 somehow it never struck me.' 
 
 He went away, like the simple-hearted gentleman 
 that he was, trying hard to look cheerful and to re- 
 joice for his daughter's sake. He did not worry him- 
 self at the moment about any secondary considerations. 
 In India these thins^s are looked at from a more old- 
 fashioned point of view than in England. Guy 
 Langley was a gentleman, and ' in the service ' — that
 
 XV ENGAGED 213 
 
 was sufficient. Treveryan was soon hard at work in 
 his office, forcing himself to devote his whole attention 
 to a rather complicated revenue case, and to forget all 
 about his private affairs. 
 
 Meanwhile, Helen sat down in the quiet of her 
 own room to answer Guy's letter. Her heart was full 
 of joy and pride, and though she found it unusually 
 difficult to say what she meant, the task was a pleasant 
 one. She was helped by the feeling that Guy would 
 be waiting impatiently for her answer. She wrote a 
 few lines only — 
 
 Dear Mr. Langley — Your letter has made me very happy. 
 My father wishes me to ask you whether you can come over and 
 see him to-morrow morning. If possible come to breakfast. — 
 Yours very sincerely, Helen. 
 
 She hesitated before signing it, and then wrote 
 simply ' Helen.' ' He will like to feel that I am not 
 Miss Treveryan to him any longer,' she said to herself. 
 It was a delightful act of surrender. 
 
 Helen addressed the letter carefully and sealed it 
 with the Treveryan crest, lest the syce, should open and 
 read it : syces who do not know a word of English 
 being so likely to do these things. 
 
 Mohuu took the precious missive out as callously 
 as if it had been a mere invitation to dinner, and 
 handed it over to the man who was waiting for it. He 
 added that it was urgent, and that the messenger must 
 run with it ; but this was a formula which meant
 
 214 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 absolutely nothing, as Sew Eatan well knew. He had 
 never received a letter without it from the lordly 
 Mohun, who loved giving orders to his inferiors. He 
 accordingly twisted the note into a fold of his turban 
 and walked off in a very leisurely manner, past the 
 window at which Helen was standing, and down the 
 avenue of mango trees. She thought he went very 
 slowly, but if she had seen his proceedings after he 
 got out of her father's grounds, her slight impatience 
 would have given place to a warmer feeling. At the 
 corner of the road near the Commissioner Sahib's 
 gateway was a spreading banyan tree, and under the 
 tree a seller of sweetmeats had had his stall from time 
 immemorial. It was not a bad corner, for there were 
 cross-roads at this point, one of which led to the 
 district cutcheries or courts, and was largely used. 
 Sew Eatan came into the shade of the tree and 
 bargained for a minute or two with the sweet-seller, 
 who sat on a little wooden platform in the middle of 
 his baskets. Finally a bargain was struck, and Sew 
 Eatan became the possessor of a pound or so of some 
 sticky compound that looked like whitish barley-sugar 
 twisted into bracelets. He received his purchase in a 
 large green leaf, and after a desultory conversation 
 strolled off down the dusty road, eating the bracelets 
 and yodelling softly to himself. At the entrance to 
 the cantonments, which he duly reached about an hour 
 later, there was a house in which one of his friends 
 was employed. Feeling rather thirsty from the effects
 
 XV ENGAGED 215 
 
 of his walk in the sun and his pound of sweets, he 
 went round to the stables and got his friend to give 
 him some water. After that the two sat down on 
 their heels under a tree close to the stable and smoked 
 a pipe together, putting the tobacco at the end of a 
 long upright stem, and sucking at the coconut bowl 
 with that cussedness which characterises the Oriental. 
 When he had spent another hour in this pleasant 
 manner, Sew Eatan rose with a sigh and proceeded on 
 his journey, at the end of which he eventually de- 
 livered himself of his letter. By that time one of its 
 corners was broken, and it bore a very dirty thumb- 
 mark, which would have made Helen miserable if she 
 had seen it. She wrote a pretty hand, clear and 
 legible with some character in it, like Aunt Madge, 
 and was rather proud of the neatness of her letters. 
 
 Guy's bearer had gone to his dinner, which included 
 a quiet afternoon's sleep upon a string-bed in his hut, 
 and he was not going to get up for any of the Sahib's 
 ridiculous letters ; besides which, the Sahib was away 
 at court-martial. So Helen's loving little note was put 
 down upon the wooden stool outside the great man's 
 hut, and there it remained until the sun was sloping 
 westward. Then it was taken over to the house 
 and placed upon the sitting-room table. 
 
 After lunch she sat in her room trying to read, 
 until it was time to change her dress. There were a 
 number of people coming to tennis. In the evening 
 it was better. The tennis helped to pass the time, and
 
 2i6 HELEN TREVERYAN chap, xv 
 
 then her father and she went out to dinner at the 
 Hunters', and there were other things to think of. 
 But all the time the secret was lying in her heart ; 
 how strange it seemed that no one of them 
 knew.
 
 CHAPTEE XVI 
 
 GUY WRITES HOME 
 
 When Guy at last got his letter it was evening. The 
 court-martial had lasted an unusually long time. Directly 
 he was free he mounted his pony which had been 
 waiting for him for some hours, and went over to his 
 quarters at a gallop. ' Langley seems to be in the 
 devil's own hurry,' St. Orme remarked, as he dis- 
 appeared round the corner, leaving a trail of dust 
 behind him. 
 
 The moment he was in the house he saw his letter 
 on the table. ' When did this come ? ' he said, with 
 an affectation of indifference, as he took it up. 
 
 ' It has just come, Sahib. The Commissioner Sahib 
 was out, and the syce had to wait until evening.' 
 
 Guy went into his room to read his letter. Dale 
 was out apparently, but he might come in at any 
 moment. 
 
 Guy looked at the seal as he turned the envelope 
 over to open it, and noticed what a perfect impression 
 it was. His first feeling was almost one of disappoint- 
 ment at the extreme shortness of the letter ; but as he
 
 2i8 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 read it over and realised all that it meant his heart 
 bounded within him. Then he was seized with a 
 furious impatience to see Helen. It was hard to be so 
 near, and yet unable to get to her. Should he ride 
 over and try to see her now ? He looked at his watch. 
 N"o, it was hopeless. There would be a dozen people 
 at tennis, and he would have to come back early, as 
 he was dining with the Aylmers. Besides, he had no 
 right to go. She had asked him to come in the morn- 
 ing, and it might embarrass her if he came earlier. 
 He must possess his soul in patience. Then it 
 occurred to him that he could write, and he sat down 
 at once. That would be relief, and it would be de- 
 licious to feel that she had his letter before night. 
 This time he let himself go. She had accepted his 
 love, and let him know that he had won hers. What 
 need for further restraint ? 
 
 My Darling — Your letter has just reached me, and I must 
 send you one hne of thanks for it. You cannot know what mad 
 delight it has given me. I had been trying all day to harden 
 my heart for the answer which I feared would come ; and I hope 
 that if it had come I should have taken it like a gentleman, but 
 when I saw your letter all my courage was gone, and for a 
 moment I could not open it. Now that I have done so the joy 
 is almost more than I can bear. I must not weary you by 
 writing any more, but you will forgive me for writing this 
 much ? I cannot let the night pass without telling you what 
 happiness you have given me, and I cannot tell you except by 
 letter. It does seem cruel that I should be obliged to stay 
 away from you when I could be with you in a few minutes ; 
 but you are right of course, and your wish is law to me. It
 
 XVI GUY WRITES HOME 219 
 
 always will be. I shall ride over early to-morrow morning and 
 hope to see you for one minute before breakfast. Don't dis- 
 appoint me if you can help it. Till then, good-bye. I feel as 
 if I could not stop writing. Why cannot I go to you instead 
 of these cold words ? — Ever your own Guy. 
 
 This letter took some time to write, and the darkness 
 had closed in before Guy entrusted it to his servant, 
 with orders that it must be delivered the same evening, 
 and that there was no answer. 
 
 When Helen received it, which she did on return 
 from her dinner-party, Guy's words did not strike her 
 as being by any means ' cold,' but she was far from 
 resenting their warmth. It seemed to her strange 
 and delightful that she should have aroused such fiery 
 devoted love. She locked up the two letters together 
 when she went to join her father over his cigar^ If 
 he had asked to see the second, she would of course 
 have shown it to him, but she felt no inclination to 
 do so. Already there was that between her and Guy 
 which was not for other eyes. Colonel Treveryan did 
 not ask to see the letter ; but after a time he put his 
 hand out and laid it on Helen's. ' Did you write to 
 Langley ? ' he said. 
 
 ' Yes, father. He is coming to-morrow morning 
 to breakfast.' 
 
 There was silence for a time, and then Colonel 
 Treveryan ventured one more question. It all seemed 
 to him so sudden and unexpected that he could not 
 quite get over a feeling of doubt even now. Girls
 
 220 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 were apt to imagine themselves in love with the 
 first man who admired them. ' Forgive me, Nell,' he 
 said, in a hesitating tone ; ' you know how much your 
 happiness is to me. Are you quite sure you really 
 care for him ? ' 
 
 There was no hesitation about her answer. ' Quite 
 sure, father dear.' Her voice was low, but it was 
 level and steady. 
 
 ' You have not known him long, ISTelL' Helen was 
 silent, and he went on : ' Two or three months is a very 
 short time, and you have not seen much of one another.' 
 
 Helen leant her head against his shoulder with a 
 mute caress. ' I am quite sure, daddy.' 
 
 Colonel Treveryan gave in. He remembered his 
 own marriage. He had not known his wife three 
 months when they were engaged, and they had been 
 very happy. The time had not seemed short to him 
 then; and, in truth, three months at a small Indian 
 station, where people are thrown together almost 
 daily, as much as on board ship, may mean a fairly 
 close acquaintance. 'Very well, I won't say any 
 more. You ought to know best, and he is a very 
 fine fellow. I don't wonder at your liking him.' 
 
 Of course Helen read over his letters again before 
 she got into bed. Was it possible that she had 
 received them both since the morning ? It seemed as 
 if the day had been a month long. Her prayers that 
 night were an outpouring of thankfulness and love. 
 For the first time Guy's name was mentioned in
 
 XVI GUY WRITES HOME 221 
 
 them. It was never omitted again so long as he 
 Hved, 
 
 Next morning Helen was up early. She used to 
 go down to the church sometimes before breakfast to 
 practice, and the church was on the road to the 
 cantonment by which Guy must ride in. She felt 
 sure that if he saw her carriage at the door he would 
 come to her, and she knew they would be alone. It 
 was an innocent plot, which she would not have been 
 ashamed to confess, and it succeeded as it deserved 
 to do. Eiding past the church at a slow walk, half 
 an hour before the earliest time at which he could 
 present himself at Colonel Treveryan's, Guy heard the 
 sound of music and saw the brougham near the porch. 
 He turned into the church enclosure and asked the 
 coachman whether Helen was inside. The answer 
 was as he expected ; and handing over his horse to a 
 syce he walked up the narrow stone stair to the 
 gallery. Helen heard his step, and rose to her feet ; 
 and there, while the last note of the broken music 
 still lingered in the echoing roof, he saw her standing, 
 her sweet eyes turned towards him, and her sweet face 
 flushing to the temples. 
 
 There for the first time he kissed her lips. It 
 was a solemn betrothal, but she never felt that there 
 was any unfitness in it. She was plighting her faith 
 to the man she loved. What better place than the 
 quiet empty church, where they would be alone but 
 for the presence of the God who had been so good to
 
 222 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 her ? And Guy cared not a straw whether he was in a 
 church or anywhere else so long as he held her in his 
 arms. 
 
 They drove up to the house together, one of the 
 syces bringing up Guy's horse, and shortly after their 
 arrival Colonel Treveryan appeared. His manner 
 was quiet but friendly, and that breakfast was a 
 pleasant one to two at least of the three. When it 
 was over, Colonel Treveryan carried Guy off. ' Come 
 along,' he said with a smile, laying his hand on the 
 young man's arm, ' we must talk this business over 
 seriously. You have not done with me yet.' They 
 went away to Colonel Treveryan's smoking-room and 
 sat down. Guy would not smoke. Colonel Trever- 
 yan's cigar took some time to light, and while it was 
 getting ready he was thinking how he should begin. 
 He had spent a very sleepless night pondering over it 
 all. Life with a cavalry regiment was an expensive 
 thing, and he knew little about Guy's circumstances. 
 His own means were not large, and he could not do 
 much to help. All this must be cleared up, though 
 it was doubtless all right. 
 
 At last the cigar had caught evenly all round 
 and was fairly started. 'Well, Langley,' Colonel 
 Treveryan said, 'my daughter showed me your 
 letter, and I understand that she has given you the 
 answer you wanted.' 
 
 'Yes, sir.' Guy went on with a hesitation and 
 an earnestness which became him well : * I hope, sir.
 
 XVI GUY WRITES HOME 223 
 
 that you do not disapprove. I know I am not 
 worthy of her — no one could be; but if I do not 
 make her happy it will not be for want of trying. 
 I do care for her, sir, from the bottom of my 
 heart.' 
 
 His eyes seemed trustworthy. ' I am sure you 
 do,' Colonel Treveryan answered ; ' and apparently she 
 does not think you unworthy of her. It has taken 
 me by surprise, and it is rather a wrench to me ; but 
 I daresay I shall get accustomed to it in time, and 
 so far as you are concerned, I can only say that as I 
 must lose her I know no one I would rather have in 
 your place.' 
 
 'Thank you, sir. Of course I can understand 
 what you feel about it.' 
 
 Colonel Treveryan sighed. ' Can you ? Perhaps 
 you can. Well, now about business. When do you 
 want to rob me of my daughter ? ' 
 
 ' Whenever you will let her go, sir ; the sooner 
 the better.' 
 
 'That is plain speaking. But — you must excuse 
 my asking these questions ; I am her father, you know, 
 — how do you stand ? Are you in a position to marry 
 at once V 
 
 Guy was conscious of an uneasy feeling, but he 
 drove it away and replied confidently enough : ' I am 
 not well off, sir, but I think we could manage. I 
 have four hundred a year beside my pay, and I dare- 
 say my father would do something more for us.'
 
 224 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 Colonel Treveryan did not look convinced. ' Four 
 hundred a year is not very much to marry upon in a 
 cavalry regiment/ he said, ' unless things have altered 
 since my time ; and I am afraid I cannot do very 
 much to help. I could give my daughter three or 
 four hundred a year now, but in case anything hap- 
 pened to me she would have very little.' 
 
 ' I don't care in the least about that, sir,' Guy said 
 warmly. 
 
 ' No, but I do. You see it is a question of her 
 comfort and happiness. I want to feel sure that she 
 will be provided for whatever happens. Is the money 
 your own?' 
 
 It was a little cruel, and Guy felt hurt. ' Two 
 hundred pounds is my own. My father allows me the 
 other two.' 
 
 'Then if anything happened to him you might 
 find yourself with only two hundred a year 
 altogether ? ' 
 
 ' I suppose he would leave me something.' 
 
 ' Suppose he did not, or suppose that he objected 
 to your marrying?' The idea had not occurred to 
 Colonel Treveryan before, but his anxiety for his 
 daughter's welfare had quickened his apprehension. 
 
 ' I am sure he would not do that, sir,' Guy 
 answered confidently. 'My father and mother have 
 always been very fond of me, and I am sure they 
 would do anything for me.' ISTevertheless, as he spoke 
 there rose before him a vision of his mother's face,
 
 XVI GUY WRITES HOME 225 
 
 hardening against anything she disapproved ; and his 
 voice faltered a little. 
 
 Colonel Treveryan looked grave. 'You must not 
 think me mercenary, Langley. So long as Helen is 
 happy, I don't care in the least about money ; but I 
 am older than you are, and I want to make sure that 
 there is just enough. I have seen very pitiable things 
 happen for want of it.' 
 
 'Yes, of course, sir, I quite see that. Shall I 
 write to my father and find out exactly how things 
 stand?' 
 
 ' I think you had better, and meanwhile let us say 
 nothing about this business. I don't want to be dis- 
 agreeable. We will manage somehow if Helen and 
 you remain of the same mind. Only let us clear the 
 ground first, and have no chance of misunderstanding. 
 It will be time enough to give out your engagement 
 when everything is settled. Don't you agree with me ?' 
 
 Guy felt keenly disappointed. He had never con- 
 templated this ; though he had certainly not thought 
 of money when he wrote to Helen, yet there had been 
 a latent assurance in his mind that no money diffi- 
 culties would intervene. She was an only child, and 
 Colonel Treveryan was in a high position and seemed 
 to be well off. Still he could not but acquiesce in the 
 justice of Colonel Treveryan's views. ' I suppose you 
 are right, sir,' he answered dejectedly. ' I will write 
 at once. I hope I may see Miss Treveryan mean- 
 while.' 
 
 VOL. I Q
 
 226 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 ' Oil yes. I don't want to be hard upon you,' 
 Colonel Treveryan answered, touched by Guy's face ; 
 'only you will be careful, won't you, for her sake? 
 Don't let people have a chance of talking until all is 
 settled. Now go and see her, and then write your 
 letter. The mail goes out to-morrow.' 
 
 Guy got up, and Colonel Treveryan walked with 
 him to the door. ' Good-bye, Langley,' he said, as he 
 shook hands with him. ' Don't be down-hearted. 
 We'll pull through somehow. It's only a delay of a 
 few weeks, and you can come over as usual meanwhile 
 until we go into camp.' Nevertheless, when Guy had 
 gone out, he shook his head doubtfully. ' I ought to 
 have thought of it all before I let Helen answer his 
 letter, and he ought to have thought of it all before he 
 wrote to her. What a boy it is, after all ! ' 
 
 Guy found Helen in the drawing-room, and with 
 some hesitation and many apologies he told her how 
 matters stood. It was horrible to him, he said, having 
 to speak to her about money. It would, in fact, have 
 been very much pleasanter to avoid such troublesome 
 subjects, and give himself up to the unmixed enjoy- 
 ment of his dream. It was a disappointment to her 
 too. She had never thought of any obstacles arising. 
 Being a woman, she would have liked to let her 
 happiness be known; and to her frank and rather 
 proud nature anything that savoured of concealment 
 was humiliating. It certaiuly was a disappointment. 
 However, she took it bravely. She laughed at his
 
 XVI GUY WRITES HOME 227 
 
 rather sentimental regrets and protestations. Was 
 it not enough for her that he should sit holding her 
 hand and gazing at her with his beautiful sad eyes, 
 and passionately wishing that he could shield her from 
 every breath of trouble, from the very knowledge that 
 there was such a thing as money ? What more could 
 a woman want ? ' No, no,' she said, though the 
 incense was sweet to her ; ' I am not made of sugar 
 and spice, and all that's nice. I can be quite horrid 
 sometimes ; and I am not going to be treated as if I 
 were too delicate to take my share of whatever comes. 
 You will find me dreadfully hard and practical.' 
 
 He felt a little chilled, a little dissatisfied with her. 
 She did not seem to appreciate the poetry of his love, 
 the desire to set her up and worship her and keep her 
 apart from all worldly things, like a goddess. He 
 never thought that she was repressing and hardening 
 herself, and trying to be cheery and sensible for his 
 sake, when she would have dearly loved to give rein 
 for a little to the romance of her nature. ' After all,' 
 she said, ' what does it matter ? You will get an 
 answer to your letter in six weeks, and we shall be 
 away in camp most of the time. It will pass very 
 quickly.' 
 
 Guy thought this cold, and was hurt ; but she 
 would not let herself admit that they had any cause 
 of complaint. 
 
 At last she began to feel that he was unjust to 
 her. ' Do you think I do not feel it ? ' she said. ' It
 
 228 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 is just as hard to me as it can be to you. I hate the 
 idea of keeping it all a secret, and so far as I am con- 
 cerned I don't care one atom whether you are rich or 
 poor. If you had not a farthing in the world, do 
 you suppose it would make any difference to 
 me?' 
 
 He knew it would not, and he thought she looked 
 more beautiful than ever as her face grew serious and 
 her gray eyes flashed with something like contempt at 
 the thought. Yet when they parted he rode away 
 feeling depressed, and she saw him from her window 
 and knew that it was so. He took his horse down 
 the road between the mango trees at a walk, instead 
 of cantering along the grass at the side as he used to 
 do, and his seat and iigure were significant. When 
 he had gone Helen turned away and sat down in 
 her easy chair, and then her head went forward on 
 her hands, and she burst into tears. Already ! 
 
 That night after dinner Guy told Dale all about it. 
 He knew so much that it would have been dif&cult to 
 tell him no more, and Guy could trust him. Dale's 
 remarks were few. ' I'm awfully glad for you, old 
 chap,' he said. As to the engagement, he thought 
 Colonel Treveryan quite right. 'That's sound enough. 
 You can't expect him to let the thing go on until 
 you've squared your people and know where you 
 stand. But you say there will be no trouble about 
 that.' 
 
 Guy looked uneasy. He did not say much more.
 
 XVI GUY WRITES HOME 229 
 
 but he asked Dale to promise that he would not talk 
 about it. 
 
 ' All right. I will keep it dark/ was the answer. 
 ' You know me.' 
 
 Before he went to bed that night Guy wrote his 
 home letters. It was an awkward thing to do. 
 Facing his mother quietly in the silence of the night, 
 he felt convinced that she would receive the news 
 with anything but pleasure. She knew nothing of 
 Helen, and she would not like his marrying in India. 
 Moreover, he knew she had formed other views for 
 him. Not many years before a family of the name of 
 Schneider had bought a house near Wrentham and 
 settled down. The father, a quiet old German stock- 
 broker whom none knew, had died soon afterwards, 
 leaving a widow and one daughter. Then it tran- 
 spired that little Clara Schneider, with her fair hair 
 and colourless eyes, was, or would be, a very rich 
 woman. Before long the Schneiders had become very 
 intimate at Wrentham, and when Guy was at home on 
 his farewell visit his mother had shown him very 
 clearly that nothing would please her better than his 
 taking a fancy to the heiress. Guy had laughed it off 
 at the time, but he reflected now that Lady Mary was 
 a determined woman. Then again it was not pleasant 
 having to ask his father about money. It was espe- 
 cially disagreeable asking what he might expect to have 
 at his father's death. However, the thing must be 
 done, and Guy sat down to write soon after dinner.
 
 230 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 At midnight he was writing still, but soon after that 
 he laid down his pen with a sigh. His letters, after 
 all, were short enough. 
 
 Dearest Mother — I have been very bad about writing lately, 
 but there has been a good deal going on in one way or another, 
 and I have been rather busy. Now I find it very difficult to 
 say what I want to say, but I know I can be sure of your love 
 and sympathy in everything that comes to me ; and just now I am 
 very happy. I have met my fate. You remember my writing 
 once or twice before about the Treveryans ? Lately I have got 
 to know Miss Treveryan very well, and I feel that she is every- 
 thing that a woman can be. This morning I have seen her, and 
 she has promised to be my wife. I am afraid you may think I 
 have been hasty in this, but I really have not. It is three 
 months now since I came here, and in that time we have seen a 
 great deal of each other. I have got to know her thoroughly 
 well, both in her own house and in society ; and I am certain 
 that she is exactly what you would like your daughter to be. 
 I wish you knew her ; but as you do not, you will trust my good 
 taste ? Helen is tall and graceful, with the truest eyes in the 
 world, and an absolutely bewitching manner. I never saw any- 
 thing like it. Every one here thinks her quite perfect. Natur- 
 ally I quite agree, though she says she is not. Her father is a 
 fine old gentleman, and was in the Thirty-First Hussars years 
 ago. He did splendid service in the Mutiny, and is a great man 
 out here — Commissioner of a Division, which means a sort of 
 governor. Do write me a few lines by return, and wish me good 
 luck. We are of course saying nothing about our engagement 
 until you have heard of it and approved, but I am longing to let 
 it be known. Don't, please, think I have been wrong in not tell- 
 ing you before. I had not said a word to Helen until last 
 Sunday, and then the whole thing came upon me suddenly. 
 Of course I had thought about it a great deal, but till then I 
 did not think she cared for me, and it was no good talking about
 
 XVI GUY WRITES HOME 231 
 
 it. Good-bye now, dear mother. I think it will be the happiest 
 day of my life when you and Helen meet each other. Mean- 
 while, believe me ever your loving son Guy. 
 
 P.S. — I am writing to my father about the business side of it. 
 
 My dear Father — You will have seen, or will see, my letter 
 to my mother, and I need not repeat what I have said in it. 
 I hope you will approve what I have done. I am writing to you 
 now to ask you very kindly to let me know how I stand about 
 money matters. Colonel Treveryan wishes to know this before he 
 agrees to our marriage, and I have promised to write to you. I 
 told him that at present you allowed me £200 a year, and he 
 remarked that this might not be permanent. I hate entering 
 upon the subject, and for my own sake I would never do so ; but 
 as he wishes for exact information, would you mind helping me 
 in any way you can ? Colonel Treveryan says he can allow 
 Helen three or four hundred a year while he lives, but that, in 
 case of his death, she would have very little. I hope by that 
 time I shall be a field-officer at least. — Believe me everyour 
 affectionate son Guy Langley. 
 
 Guy read over these letters carefully, and did not 
 feel satisfied with them ; but he did not know how to 
 improve them, and they went out unaltered. 
 
 The next few weeks were not altogether a happy 
 time, either for him or Helen. A few days after Guy's 
 proposal Colonel Treveryan went into camp, taking- 
 Helen with him. He had to make a tour of inspection 
 through a part of the country where ladies could 
 travel, and he felt that it was better she should not be 
 left in Syntia. Helen and Guy were therefore separ- 
 ated from each other. Moreover, the departure of the
 
 232 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 Treveryaus was not enough to prevent some idea of the 
 secret leaking out. Colonel Treveryan's servants had 
 formed their own conclusions with regard to Lali 
 Sahib, as they called him, and from this cause or some 
 other it soon became known to Guy that the thing 
 was in the air. Dale, when questioned by the ladies, 
 replied steadily that he knew for a fact that Guy and 
 Helen were not engaged ; and Guy himself tried to 
 deceive his friends by casual references to the Tre- 
 veryans, but it would not do. He felt that Helen and 
 he were suspects, and Helen felt it too. Altogether, 
 the position was trying. 
 
 There was, however, for both of them the consola- 
 tion of the post. Wlierever the Commissioner Sahib 
 might go his mail followed him closely. The horse- 
 men who cantered along the soft country roads to the 
 cluster of white tents under the trees carried in their 
 locked canvas bags many a letter from Guy to Helen. 
 She used to sit and answer them in her tent, while the 
 soft breeze played through the open doorways, and the 
 little bronze-green fly-catchers glittered in the sunlit 
 air outside, and the kingfishers hung quivering over 
 the blue waterpools. Guy's letters were the more 
 cleverly written — full of untrained poetry and passion, 
 and touching enough at times in their youthful chival- 
 rous enthusiasm. Hers were quieter and shorter ; in- 
 deed, he felt and complained at times that they seemed 
 curt and cold ; but they were very sweet letters 
 nevertheless. She wondered at his power of words,
 
 XVI GUY WRITES HOME 233 
 
 and humbly apologised for her own want of it ; but 
 now and then, in her simple language, without exagger- 
 ation and without effort, she wrote some little perfect 
 womanly thing which brought the tears to his eyes, 
 and made him conscious of his own inferiority. ' My 
 darling,' he once answered her, ' never say again that 
 your letters are not worth having, or that you wish you 
 could write like me. Your letters are far better than 
 mine. They are to mine what a violet is to a passion 
 flower. It is not, I hope, that my love is less true 
 than yours. I do not believe that. But all your 
 thoughts are so exquisitely pure and good that your 
 words cannot help being beautiful. The thought shines 
 through them. If ever other eyes should see our 
 letters, which God forbid, it will not be yours that 
 suffer by the comparison.' 
 
 And he was right. He was beginning to learn the 
 lesson which is vouchsafed to so many of us. There was 
 being revealed to him a purity of spirit, a tenderness 
 of perception and feeling, of which he had never before 
 imagined the possibility. He was gazing into the 
 wonderful depths of a woman's heart.
 
 CHAPTEE XVII 
 
 THE NEWS ARRIVES AT WRENTHAM 
 
 It was a fine spring morning when Guy's letters 
 reached Wrentham. The winter was past ; the rain 
 was over and gone ; the flowers appeared on the earth, 
 and the time of the singing of birds was come. There 
 were some crocuses and violets in the garden, and the 
 golden burnished stars of the celandine were beginning 
 to glitter in the hedgerows. One or two primroses 
 had been seen. Evelyn had found a blackbird's nest 
 in a thorn bush as yet uncovered by leaves; and in 
 the home wood the rooks were very busy indeed. Be- 
 low them, in the little corner where a woodcock some- 
 times lay, the daffodils were fluttering and dancing in 
 the breeze. The air was cold, but clear and sunny. 
 Life was stirring in it. 
 
 The postman generally arrived at the hall during 
 breakfast, and as it was the day for the Indian mail, 
 the Langleys were on the lookout for a letter from 
 Guy. Old Pantling, the butler, knew Guy's hand very 
 well, and his decorous manner was a trifle more in- 
 terested than usual as he brought the post in to Lady
 
 CHAP. XVII THE NEWS ARRIVES AT WRENTHAM 235 
 
 Mary. ' Dear me/ she said, as she looked through it, 
 ' we are in luck to-day. There are two from Guy. 1 
 wonder what makes him write to us both.' 
 
 There was a letter for Barbara from some one else, 
 but both the girls turned to their mother to hear the 
 news from India. Pantling cut some wafery slices 
 from the ham on the sideboard, and deliberately offered 
 them to each member of the family in succession. He 
 was rewarded by seeing Lady Mary lay down her 
 letter with a face like a thundercloud, and by hearing 
 his master, who had also opened his, give vent to a 
 smothered whistle. The girls looked up inquiringly, 
 and Evelyn said, 'What is the news, mamma? Is 
 anything the matter ? ' Then the discreet Pantling 
 saw that he was not wanted, and went away. 
 
 Charles Langley finished his letter, and looked at 
 his wife with a face of doubt which rapidly changed to 
 one of dismay. 'We must talk this over after 
 breakfast,' Lady Mary said sternly, in answer to his 
 look, and then she turned to the girls. ' Guy is quite 
 well, but he has got into a foolish scrape; nothing 
 serious.' 
 
 The girls saw that for the present they were not 
 meant to know more, and they asked no questions. 
 Lady Mary read her other letters, and spoke about 
 them to her husband as if nothing had happened. 
 Then Charles Langley walked off as usual. Lady Mary 
 saying she would come to his study in a few minutes. 
 
 After she had given some orders to the house-
 
 236 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 keeper, which she did in a perfectly calm and level 
 manner, though not very pleasantly, she walked into 
 her husband's room. He was leaning with his back 
 against the mantelpiece, and one heel hooked over the 
 fender, but as she entered he stood to attention, and 
 moved to one side of the chair which he had put near 
 the fire for her. She came up to him with a very hard- 
 set face, and remained standing. ' This is a nice busi- 
 ness,' she said, with a tinge of contempt in her voice. 
 
 ' Yes ; what on earth are we to do ? ' 
 
 ' Of course it must be stopped at once. I thought 
 Guy had more sense.' 
 
 ' Yes, young ass ; but how are we to manage it ? ' 
 
 Lady Mary was inclined even then to resent any 
 depreciation of Guy, and she answered rather sharply 
 and inconsequently : ' He writes to you about money 
 matters, and of course you must tell him plainly that 
 you won't allow it. I don't suppose it is his fault. 
 They have taken him in somehow.' 
 
 Charles Langley looked rather helpless. ' I will 
 write of course, but . . . aren't you going to write too ? 
 I really don't quite know what to say. You see, he is 
 his own master after all. Supposing he were to insist 
 on taking his own line ? ' 
 
 'Nonsense, Charles. He is a great deal too sen- 
 sible, if the thing is put plainly to him. Just 
 write and tell him that you cannot approve of the 
 marriage. Say that you are giving him already as 
 much as you can afford, and that, under the circum-
 
 XVII THE NEWS ARRIVES AT WRENTHAM 237 
 
 stances, he must see how impossible it would be for 
 him to marry. It is easy enough. I will write a few 
 lines too, and make it quite clear that the thing must 
 be given up. I hope you see now who was right about 
 his exchanging from his regiment.' 
 
 After a few words more Lady Mary went off to 
 her own room and sat down to write. Before she began 
 she thought the matter over quietly, and, considering 
 all things, her letter was judicious enough. She did 
 not expect any serious resistance on Guy's part. She 
 was unused to opposition, and did not doubt that in 
 this matter, as in other matters, she would get her own 
 way. She was able, therefore, to keep her temper 
 under control. As to the expediency and propriety 
 of stopping the marriage, she never hesitated for a 
 moment. Such a thing would be Guy's ruin. J^to- 
 gether, she faced the question in a resolute but temperate 
 frame of mind. It was annoying of course ; but boys 
 would be boys, and, after all, a little firmness would 
 put an end to it all. There was no need to write 
 harshly. It would hurt poor Guy, and make matters 
 harder for him. The best way would be to appeal to 
 his affection and common sense. Before lunch-time 
 the letter was ready. 
 
 My dearest Guy — We received this morning your letters 
 of the — th February, and I don't think you will be surprised 
 to learn that they have caused us much distress. You are quite 
 right in feeling sure of my love and sympathy, for you would 
 always have that under any circumstances ; but, my own boy,
 
 238 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 how can I tell you I approve of what you have done ? I Jo 
 not wish to say a word against Miss Treveryan, who is no doubt 
 everything you think her ; but you know that as it is you have 
 not more than enough to live upon in your regiment. How are 
 you to support a wife and family as well ? Your father can 
 allow you no more than he does already, as he will tell you. 
 Where is the money to come from ? You say Colonel Treveryan 
 might allow his daughter something ; but, even supposing he 
 did so, this is only a temporary help. In case of his death or 
 your father's, you would be in dreadful difficulties. I feel 
 certain that, if you will think it over quietly, you will see that 
 such a marriage is impossible. I daresay you thought we could 
 afford to do more for you, but indeed we cannot. We are not 
 rich, and we have very heavy expenses. Don't think me unkind, 
 my boy. If I believed that this marriage could be for your 
 happiness, far from hindering it, I would do everything in my 
 power to bring it about. Knowing as I do that it could only 
 end in misery, I am obliged, even at the risk of your thinking 
 me hard and cruel, to tell you that I can never consent to it. 
 Do take leave and come home to us for a few months. How I 
 wish you had never gone to that dreadful country ; but it is too 
 late to think of that. Come back to us now, for a time at all 
 events, if you will not exchange to a regiment in England, as I 
 asked you to do before. When you have seen me, you will 
 understand it all quite clearly. Go straight to Colonel Aylmer, 
 and say it is very important for you to go at once, and that you 
 must do so. In the meantime I need not say that I feel for 
 you most deeply, for I know too well how painful such a thing 
 must be to you ; but there is no help for it, and I am sure you 
 will be brave and sensible. — Ever your loving Mother. 
 
 Charles Langley's letter was shorter. He had tried 
 to rememher and reproduce his wife's words. 
 
 My dear Guy — I have received your letter, and I am 
 sorry to say I cannot answer it as you would like. I am not
 
 XVII THE NEWS ARRIVES AT WRENTHAM 239 
 
 able to approve your engagement. I already allow you as much 
 as I can afford to do, and in tlie circumstances you must see 
 how impossible it would be for you to marry. I am afraid you 
 will be disappointed, but I don't know what else to say. — I 
 remain your affectionate father Charles Langley. 
 
 ' That is exactly what she said/ he thought, when 
 he had read it over ; ' but it doesn't read very well, and 
 I don't see that it tells him what he wants to know. 
 I wonder what the girl is like.' And there came 
 over him a serious doubt whether they were acting 
 altogether kindly and wisely in cutting the matter 
 short without further inquiry. Guy would have at 
 least ten thousand pounds at his death, and he had 
 five or six now, and evidently she would have some- 
 thing. At a pinch too they could be helped. If she 
 was a nice girl, and the boy really wanted to naarry 
 her, it might not be such a bad thing after all. 
 Every one cannot be a millionaire, and in the service 
 one can live pretty cheap if one chooses. 
 
 Lady Mary had no such doubts. She felt that she 
 was acting solely in Guy's interests, and that for his 
 good it was her duty to deny him this thing, just as 
 she used to deny him some little indulgence in his 
 childhood. It never occurred to her that she might 
 be wrong. She was never wrong. Her mission in 
 life was to keep others right. 
 
 Lady Mary was a loving mother, with a very high 
 idea of Guy's value. He was a boy of whom any 
 mother might have been proud, and to her eyes his
 
 240 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 price was above rubies. She overestimated his talents, 
 and his good looks, and all belonging to him. More- 
 over, she firmly believed in her heart that all con- 
 nected with herself were in some way a peculiar 
 people. Though her grandfather was merely a success- 
 ful lawyer, and her husband's ancestors were country 
 squires descended from a successful tradesman, she 
 had persuaded herself that she was a person of very 
 blue blood indeed, and that the Langleys of Wrentham 
 were something altogether out of the common. She 
 had the pride of birth in its commonest English form. 
 Naturally she thought it would be a terrible mes- 
 alliance for Guy to marry in India. She knew nothing 
 of Helen Treveryan ; and she rightly attached no 
 importance at all to Guy's brief description of his lady- 
 love. If she had given herself the trouble to analyse 
 her own idea, she would have found that she pictured 
 the girl to herself as a young person of questionable 
 parentage, with bold black eyes and a shady character 
 and vulgar manners, whom it would be impossible to 
 present to her friends. She had been brought up, as 
 most Englishwomen are brought up, to know nothing 
 whatever of India. In her time she had seen an 
 Indian crisis or two, when the British public had been 
 suddenly fired with an intense interest in the country, 
 and society had seized upon and made lions of any 
 Indian officers who happened to be in the way — 
 probably the wrong men. Then the excitement sub- 
 sided, and well-bred England forgot India again as
 
 XVII THE NEWS ARRIVES AT WRENTHAM 241 
 
 completely as if that wonderful empire had no existence. 
 If Lady Mary thought of it at all, she thought of it 
 as an unhealthy and immoral place, where some 
 depraved white men loafed about in straw hats, beating 
 Hindus and making them smoke opium ; and where 
 the women were no better than they should be. An 
 Indian marriage was a thing that Guy must be rescued 
 from at all costs. 
 
 Lady Mary's ignorance of India was but an example 
 of the ignorance of Englishmen in general about the 
 Colonial Empire. It is not wonderful that our colonies 
 grow restive at times. It is rather wonderful that 
 there is any loyalty left among them. Even now, 
 though some men of mark have been able to look 
 beyond party interests, and have tried to rouse the 
 nation to a sense of its greatness and its responsibility, 
 how many Englishmen in the old country know any- 
 thing, or wish to know anything, of the vast England 
 beyond the seas ? With India perhaps a spirit of 
 indifference does comparatively little harm. We are 
 safe enough there. India is not a colony but a posses- 
 sion, and Englishmen in India must always remain 
 Englishmen. They will always of necessity continue 
 to fight for the English flag, though at times they may 
 fight with sore hearts. Perhaps it is the better for 
 them that they should work on in obscurity, far from 
 the applause of their countrymen, cheered only by the 
 sense of duty done. Even in India, however, there is 
 one danger. Our own people will never be goaded 
 
 VOL. I E
 
 242 HELEN TREVERYAN chap, xvii 
 
 into disloyalty. They are only a few thousands in 
 number, and they are constantly recruited from England; 
 but if we teach or permit the three hundred millions 
 of Indians about them to look upon them with dis- 
 respect, if we weaken their hands and encourage all 
 who oppose them, then sooner or later we shall have 
 again to fight for empire. Eemember the Mutiny, 
 when your churches were full of black-robed sorrowing 
 women, and realise in time that you cannot with impu- 
 nity permit India to get out of control. The way to 
 do so is to regard your countrymen in India as aliens, 
 and to take for granted that they are always in the 
 wrong. They are not aliens : they are your own kith 
 and kin ; and what they are doing you would do if 
 you were in their place. They are English men and 
 women, who have walked on board an English steamer 
 at Dover or the London docks, and are in no way 
 different from yourselves, except that they have seen 
 something more than England and have learnt to face 
 danger and responsibility.
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE 
 
 Guy received his answer one hot evening towards the 
 end of March. He had stayed at home, waiting for the 
 English mail, instead of going to the Club ; and was 
 sitting in his long chair trying to read when his servant 
 came in with the letters. Guy took them from him, 
 and saw that they were what he was expecting. 
 There was one from his father, and one from^ his 
 mother. 
 
 He began with his mother's, and as he read it his 
 heart sank. His first feeling was one of conviction 
 and self-contempt. Why had he been such a fool as 
 to rush into this impossible thing and make them 
 despise him? He opened his father's letter, and a 
 smile came into his eyes. He knew the history of 
 that letter almost as well as if he had been present 
 when Lady Mary sketched it out. 
 
 Then he read both letters again carefully, and as he 
 did so a change of feeling came over him. After all, 
 he had not been so very unreasonable, and their 
 objections were at least open to argument. No doubt,
 
 244 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 if he married Helen they would not be rich, but so 
 long as his father and Colonel Treveryan lived they 
 would not be so very badly off; and Charles Langley 
 had said nothing about what would happen after his 
 death. Probably he would leave something to all his 
 children. Altogether, though of course he was not 
 surprised that his mother should be unwilling to see 
 him marry a girl without money, yet it was what men 
 did every day, and there was no other objection to his 
 engagement. As he worked it out his depression 
 gave way to resentment. They might have helped 
 him if they had chosen. 
 
 Then a vision of poor Clara Schneider came before 
 him, with her plain face and light eyelashes. ' I'm 
 hanged if I'll do that anyhow,' he said to himself. 
 
 It was very hard and very embarrassing. Things 
 would come right yet somehow ; but he knew of old 
 how terribly resolute his mother could be, and in any 
 case, for the present at all events, he must confess to 
 the Treveryans that he had met with a distinct refusal. 
 It would not be an agreeable task. Guy did not admit 
 to himself that he had the slightest thought of giving 
 Helen up ; on the other hand, he did not at once set 
 aside Lady Mary's decision as regrettable but immaterial. 
 He was fond of his mother, and accustomed to look up to 
 her. He was not weak enough to submit without resist- 
 ance ; but he was not vehement enough, not old enough 
 perhaps, to see his way clearly at once. His mind was full 
 of trouble and doubt. No help was to be got from Dale.
 
 XVIII THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE 245 
 
 He had gone away for a couple of days' quail-shooting, 
 and his room was empty. 
 
 The next day was Thursday, a holiday, and after a 
 restless night Guy mounted his horse to go over to the 
 Civil Station. The mornings were still pleasant, and 
 as Guy rode on through the cool fresh air he felt his 
 spirits rising. They sank again when he reached the 
 Treveryans' door, and realised that he had to break his 
 news. 
 
 Colonel Treveryan had just returned from an early 
 ride, to see a new bridge which was being built by the 
 Public Works Department. He was sitting in the 
 south verandah, still booted and spurred, smoking a 
 long cheroot, and reading the official letters which had 
 come by the morning ddh, A pile of them lay on the 
 table with his helmet and hunting crop. He sent out 
 a salaam, and Guy came to him through the dining-room, 
 
 ' Well, Langley,' he said cheerily, as he got up and 
 shook hands, ' what is the news ? ' 
 
 Guy hesitated. * Not very good, I'm afraid, sir.' 
 
 Colonel Treveryan looked grave. ' Have you heard 
 from your people ? ' 
 
 'Yes. They — I am sorry to say they are not 
 very encouraging. In fact — I think perhaps you had 
 better read what they say. I have got the letters here,' 
 and he took them out of his pocket and held them 
 out. 
 
 Colonel Treveryan read them slowly through and 
 put them down on the table. After a moment's
 
 246 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 silence he looked up at Guy : ' You should have 
 thought of all this before you said anything to us.' 
 
 ' I wish I had, sir, but I had no idea there would 
 be any objection. I am awfully cut up about it.' 
 
 Colonel Treveryan's soft heart was touched at 
 once, and he answered not unkindly ; but Helen's 
 happiness was concerned, and his manner still con- 
 veyed disapproval. Guy was seized with an ardent 
 desire to clear himself from any suspicion of weakness 
 or fickleness, and he broke into earnest assurances. 
 Nothing he said could ever make him change, and he 
 felt certain his mother would come round in time. It 
 was only a question of time. The warmth of his 
 professions was increased by the silence of his hearer. 
 Colonel Treveryan listened quietly, and was inclined 
 to believe him; but he could not help feeling that 
 Guy's assertions were rather vehement than steady. 
 There was a ring of doubt and trouble running through 
 them. It was not a tone of confident self-reliance. 
 ' The boy means well,' he thought. ' I hope he really 
 has good stuff in him. I hope Nellie has not made 
 a mistake.' To Guy he said at last, ' Well, Langley, 
 I don't quite know what I ought to do at present. I 
 must see Helen and speak to you again.' 
 
 ' I hope I may see her too, sir.' 
 
 ' Yes, if you wish it. Perhaps it will be just as 
 well. You had better stay to breakfast and see her 
 afterwards, and come over again to-morrow when we 
 have thought it all out.'
 
 XVIII THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE 247 
 
 Guy accepted the invitation, and he sat down in 
 the drawing-room to wait for Helen while Colonel 
 Treveryan was dressing. She had seen Guy ride up, 
 and had got ready as quickly as she could. Guy had 
 not been five minutes alone before she came in, as he 
 had first seen her come, by the side door from her 
 own rooms. This time, though she looked to him 
 more beautiful than ever, he met her with an air of 
 embarrassment which she perceived at once ; and as 
 she sat down the smile died out of her face. Then 
 he began his confession. 
 
 Poor fellow, it was hard work. He had known 
 that it would bring her unhappiness ; but he had 
 relied upon her love and sympathy and strength, and 
 had not thought of her pride. It was wounded at 
 once by his first hesitating words : ' I have heard from 
 my mother. I am afraid I ought to have written to 
 her before. She objects altogether.' 
 
 ' Objects ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; she says it is impossible. Of course,' he 
 went on slowly, ' it makes no difference to me — you 
 know that ? ' 
 
 Helen sat silent, her hands clasped in her lap. In 
 her heart was rising a fiery indignation, mingled with 
 a sense of intense disappointment. At best it was all 
 at an end again, for the present at least, and there 
 must be another long period of waiting and conceal- 
 ment. Why should Guy's mother have the power to 
 * object ' to her ? Why should he stand it ? As Guy
 
 248 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 spoke on she too caught the note of doubt and inquiry 
 in his voice, and it vexed her. She loved him and 
 told him so ; but he got little help from her. She 
 was hurt and humiliated ; and, moreover, what could 
 she say to him ? If his heart did not tell him what 
 to do, was it for her to tell him ? Altogether the 
 interview was a sad one. It ended in silence and 
 constraint, and in a sense of injury on Guy's part. 
 Before it was over the daily hot wind had risen and 
 was moaning dismally round the house, filling the 
 air with dust and veiling the sky. 
 
 When Colonel Treveryan came in the three of 
 them went to breakfast, and for the sake of appear- 
 ances they tried to talk as usual; but the meal was 
 short and uncomfortable. Directly it was over Guy 
 asked for his horse, and rode off. It was a dreary 
 dusty ride, and Guy was disheartened and sore. 
 Everything seemed to have gone wrong at once. 
 Surely it was hard that he should be blamed, as he 
 felt he was blamed. He had done everything he 
 could. 
 
 When he reached his house he bathed and dressed, 
 and felt momentarily better, and then sat down in 
 solitude to think it out. How lonely and wretched 
 the house was. The doors and windows were shut 
 now and it was half-dark, and outside there was no 
 sound but the ceaseless moan of the hot wind. What- 
 ever he touched was parched and covered with dust. 
 After some hours of anxious restless thought which
 
 XVIII THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE 249 
 
 seemed to end in nothing, Guy could stand it no 
 longer. Mrs. Aylmer lived close by, and the longing 
 for sympathy and help was more than he could resist. 
 She could be trusted, and she had met his mother, and 
 knew something of the world. She might be able to 
 show him a way out of his difficulties. Would Helen 
 like him to go to Mrs. Aylmer ? Perhaps not, if he 
 asked her just now, but she would be glad of Mrs. 
 Aylmer's help hereafter. Yes, he would go. 
 
 He walked over in the afternoon heat. Mrs. 
 Aylmer was at home of course, and the very feeling 
 of her cool dark drawing-room was a comfort to his 
 spirit. When she came in a minute later, with her 
 firm hand and friendly resolute eyes, Guy felt his 
 burden was already lighter. She saw at once that he 
 had something to say, and she helped him out. He 
 found it much easier than he had expected. When he 
 had told her everything, and made her, rather against 
 her will, read his mother's letter, she sat for a time in 
 silence, thinking. To her unconventional mind the 
 position seemed clear enough. ' If they care for each 
 other,' she thought, ' there is really nothing to prevent 
 them marrying and being happy. They won't be rich, 
 but they ought to manage well enough — if they care 
 for each other. I wonder how long Harry and I 
 would have hesitated if we had been in their place.' 
 She smiled at the idea of any such thing standing 
 between her and her husband, and Guy saw the 
 smile go across her face.
 
 250 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 ' Well/ he said at last, ' what do you think ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Aylmer gave him back his letter. 'Mr. 
 Langley, you won't mind my speaking quite plainly ? ' 
 
 ' Of course not. That is just what I want you to 
 do. Please say exactly what you think.' 
 
 ' Very well. Then I think it all depends on one 
 thing. Do you really care for Miss Treveryan ? ' 
 
 ' If I had not cared for her I should not have 
 asked her to marry me.' 
 
 ' I am not so sure. You may have cared for her 
 enough to marry her if all went well, and yet not 
 care very deeply in reality.' 
 
 ' That is not complimentary to me.' 
 
 'Perhaps not, but I want to make quite sure. 
 What is the very worst that could happen to you 
 if you married ? You might possibly be left with 
 your profession and £200 a year. Isn't that right ? ' 
 
 ' If my father died, and if he left me nothing ; but 
 that is very unlikely.' 
 
 ' No ; I mean if he refused to agree to your marriage 
 and stopped your allowance.' 
 
 ' He would never do that.' 
 
 ' But he could if he chose ? ' 
 
 ' Yes — of course he could ; but he wouldn't.' 
 
 ' If he did you could not remain in the Thirtieth. 
 At all events, you could never go home with them ? ' 
 
 ' No, I suppose not.' 
 
 ' Well, when I say do you care for Miss Treveryan, 
 I mean do you care for her enough to stick to her
 
 XVIII THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE 251 
 
 even then, to give np your own people for her sake, 
 if necessary, and to leave the regiment and stay in 
 India ? ' 
 
 ' That is a long way off, and besides, Colonel 
 Treveryan said he could help us.' 
 
 ' Just now, yes ; but if anything happened to him 
 she would have little or nothing ? ' 
 
 ' I believe not — not much anyhow.' 
 
 ' Very well- — then it might possibly come to 
 that ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I suppose it might.' 
 
 ' If it did, do you care for her enough to marry 
 her and not to repent your marriage afterwards, and 
 let her know you repented it ? ' 
 
 ' I don't believe my people would ever behave like 
 that.' 
 
 ' But if they did ? You really must face this, Mr. 
 Langley, and not trust to chance.' 
 
 Guy was silent for a time ; then he raised his 
 head and met her eyes steadily, with a look of defiance 
 in his own. 
 
 ' I should never repent it if Helen did not. I care 
 more for her than all the world put together.' 
 
 Mrs. Aylmer was watching his face. What she 
 saw and heard seemed to satisfy her. ' Then I don't 
 see why you should be troubled. Make up your 
 mind that you won't let anything come between you. 
 She won't repent it if you don't. You may take my 
 word for that ; and you know it as well as I do.'
 
 252 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 ' Yes ; I tliink I do. Theu you don't think we 
 need be unhappy about this ? ' 
 
 ' Not in the least, if you really care for each other. 
 But don't deceive yourself about that.' 
 
 Guy got up, and came to her with his hand out. 
 'Thank you a thousand times. You have made me 
 happy again. I am so glad I came to you. You will 
 help me through, won't you ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Aylmer rose too, and took his proffered hand. 
 ' Yes, I will do all I can to help you, but you will be 
 true to her ? My only real doubt has been . . .' 
 
 ^ Yes ? ' 
 
 ' You will not be vexed ? ' 
 
 ' No — nothing you could say would vex me.' 
 
 ' My only doubt has been whether you quite under- 
 stood your own good luck. There are very few girls 
 like her, Mr. Langley.' 
 
 In his present mood the words went straight to his 
 heart. He did not resent them in the smallest degree 
 — far from it. In a sense they were flattering to him, 
 for they showed that others could see what a prize he 
 had won. Moreover, just then he would have stood 
 anything from Mrs. Aylmer. For the moment he was 
 more than half in love with her as well as Helen. 
 His eyes grew moist. ' I know I am not worthy of 
 her, and never can be,' he said ; ' but I will try.' 
 
 When Guy left Mrs. Aylmer's room, his courage 
 had returned to him, and he wondered that it had ever 
 fallen so low. She had promised to write to Lady
 
 XVIII THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE 253 
 
 Mary herself. ' But I must see Miss Treveryan first/ 
 she said with a smile ; ' perhaps she will be glad of the 
 chance of getting rid of you.' Guy met the suggestion 
 with a happy laugh ; he had no fears on that point. 
 
 When he was gone Mrs. Aylmer sat for a time 
 thinking. ' I wonder whether I have done right/ she 
 said to herself. ' I wonder whether he really cares for 
 her ? It is no business of mine either, and I daresay 
 I shall get no thanks for meddling. Well, it can't be 
 helped now. He is a dear boy, and she is too good to 
 be made unhappy if I can do anything to stop it. 
 What a pity she has no mother — poor child.' Mrs. 
 Aylmer was a woman of action, and she felt that the 
 sooner she saw Helen the better. Colonel Aylmer 
 was at home, in his den, and she went to tell him 
 about it ; but before doing so she ordered hex brougham. 
 He took her news quietly enough, and made no objec- 
 tion. It was not their business, he said ; but if his 
 wife thought fit to take it up, he had no doubt she 
 was right. Langley was a fine young fellow, and 
 he could not have fallen in love with a nicer girl. ' If 
 you do get a rap over the knuckles, you must make 
 the best of it, and be more careful another time.' 
 
 When Mrs. Aylmer drove up to the Treveryans' 
 door, she wished for a moment that she had kept out 
 of the whole thing, but she had not much time for 
 regret. Eather to her surprise she was told that Helen 
 was at home, and she walked into the drawing-room 
 and sat down. A minute later Helen came in, with a
 
 254 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 smile on her face. Mrs. Aylmer could not help doubt- 
 ing for the moment whether the sirl knew her own mind. 
 Surely, if she cared for Guy Langley, she would have 
 been more distressed and upset by the morning's news. 
 Mrs. Aylmer did not know that Helen had half guessed 
 her errand, and was meeting her resolutely, hoping for 
 comfort, but determined to show no sign of suffering 
 if her guess were wrong. ' How nice of you to come 
 and see me,' Helen said brightly, with her hand out ; 
 and as she came close it was evident, in spite of her 
 efforts to hide it, that she had been crying. 
 
 Mrs. Aylmer's heart smote her as she thought of 
 the motherless girl alone in that big empty house. 
 She kissed Helen gently. ' I came to help you, dear, 
 if you will let me. Mr. Langley has been to see me 
 to-day, and I thought perhaps I might be a little com- 
 fort to you.' She knew then that she had done right 
 in coming. The flushing face, full of gratitude and 
 hope, drove away all doubts. 
 
 Helen asked Mrs. Aylmer to come into her own 
 sitting-room where they were secure from interruption, 
 and there the two sat for an hour or more. As the 
 elder woman's sympathy and gentleness won Helen's 
 trust, her reserve disappeared and she laid bare all her 
 sorrow. She told Mrs. Aylmer that she had been 
 talking to Colonel Treveryan, and that it had been 
 very miserable. He had been inclined to blame Guy, 
 and had seemed very worried and upset. She had not 
 known what to do, and she did not know now. She
 
 XVIII THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE 255 
 
 could not say she did not care for Guy, or that she 
 was ready to give him up if he was unchanged ; and 
 yet she did not want to come between him and his 
 people ; and she would not remain engaged to him for 
 a single hour if it would be happier for him to be set 
 free. ' Only, if that is to be the end,' she said, with a 
 momentary break in her voice, ' why did he make me 
 care for him ? We were so happy before.' 
 
 Mrs. Aylmer drew the brown head on to her 
 shoulder, and petted it as she would have petted a 
 child's. ' It won't be the end, dear. All this will 
 blow over in a few weeks, and you will be as happy 
 as the day is long. You would never have doubted it 
 if you had heard him speak to me to-day. He told 
 me he cared for you more than all the world, and I 
 am certain he does. It is your comfort and happiness 
 that he is thinking of. He never expected this ; and 
 of course it is very troublesome, but it will all blow 
 over. You must never think of giving him up. You 
 would only make him unhappy.' So she went on, 
 comforting the girl with gentle words, and telling her 
 what she longed to hear, and was only too glad to be- 
 lieve, until the sore young heart was whole again, and 
 the sad young eyes bright with happiness. Then she 
 sent Helen to see whether Colonel Treveryan had done 
 his work. ' He will think me a horrid meddlesome 
 match-making woman, and very likely turn me out 
 of the house, but I don't care.' 
 
 Colonel Treveryan had done his work. It was half-
 
 256 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 past five, and he was just coming into the drawing- 
 room for some tea when Helen met him. He was 
 looking very weary and sad. Throughout the day the 
 remembrance of Helen had been before him, making 
 his work doubly hard ; and he had found himself 
 thinking more bitterly than ever of the grave where 
 his wife was lying. If she could only come back 
 now for one hour, not for his sake, but for the sake 
 of her child — the child whom she had loved so dearly 
 and given up. Never ! Never ! She was far beyond 
 the reach of his longing. Never again would he see 
 the pale tired face and gentle patient eyes, and hear 
 the low voice that had been music to him. ' But for 
 India,' he thought, 'she might be living now. Why 
 did I let her come out to me ? ' How many men have 
 writhed under the torture of that thought, and cursed 
 the land of exile ? 
 
 Mrs. Aylmer found Colonel Treveryan by no means 
 disposed to resent her interference. He knew too well 
 the value of a woman's help, and he liked Mrs. Aylmer 
 herself. He spoke to her quite openly. He was hurt 
 at the idea of his daughter being placed in such a 
 position, and he said so ; but he saw that her happiness 
 was involved, and he made no secret of his hope that the 
 marriage might not be broken off. He could, he said, 
 give them five hundred a year, and would give them as 
 much more as he could save after spending what it was 
 his duty to spend in entertainment and the like. He 
 was very glad to hear that Guy had spoken so strongly,
 
 XVIII THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE 257 
 
 and seemed so determined in the matter. It seemed 
 to him inconceivable that a man could hesitate in such 
 a case. Eventually it was agreed that an effort should 
 be made by Mrs. Aylmer and Guy to settle matters 
 with Lady Mary, and that, in the meantime, the affair 
 should be kept quiet. Helen was to go to Mussooree, 
 and take care of Mabs and her French governess 
 whom Mrs. Aylmer wanted to send to the hills at 
 once. The young people were not to be forbidden to 
 write to one another, but until things were settled 
 it would be better to let others have no chance of 
 talking. 
 
 Mrs. Aylmer went away that evening with a light 
 heart, leaving Colonel Treveryan's brow cleared and 
 Helen's eyes shining with happiness. ISTevertheless, as 
 she drove through the gathering darkness, enjoying the 
 cool evening air which came through her window, she 
 felt that there might be trouble ahead of her. She 
 knew little of Lady Mary, but she had seen her and 
 recognised in her a determined character. ' Well,' 
 she thought, * if her ladyship chooses to stand out, 
 it is Mr. Langiey's affair. He will have done all 
 he can, and will be in the right. I daresay he 
 can be pretty obstinate too if he is once roused ; 
 and really, they have not the smallest cause to object. 
 It is quite as good a match as they could expect for 
 him.' 
 
 A week later Helen was away among the pines 
 and rhododendrons of Mussooree, and two letters 
 
 VOL. I s
 
 258 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 addressed to Lady Mary were on the high seas. Guy's 
 letter was fuller and more ch^cumstantial than his first 
 had been. He dwelt upon his affection for Helen, 
 and the impossibility of his giving her up ; and he 
 wrote at some length about Colonel Treveryan's 
 position and services. He begged his father and 
 mother not to make him miserable by continuing to 
 withhold their consent. He did not in so many words 
 declare his determination to stick to her whatever they 
 might do, but he said no word which could be held to 
 imply that his eventual decision would depend on 
 theirs. Guy asked Lady Mary to show his letter to 
 his father ; and he referred to the fact that Mrs. 
 Aylmer was going to write. ' You know her/ he said ; 
 ' she is not a bad judge, and she swears by Helen. 
 If you don't trust my judgment, you can trust 
 hers.' 
 
 Mrs. Aylmer's letter was as worldly wise as she 
 could make it. She began by apologising for her 
 interference in a matter with which she was not con- 
 cerned. She would not have thought of interfering if 
 Mr. Langley had not come to her of his own accord. 
 As he had done so, and as he was in her husband's 
 regiment, she hoped Lady Mary would not mind her 
 writing and doing what she could to clear up matters. 
 She could quite understand Lady Mary's reluctance to 
 let Guy marry in India. Many of the girls one met 
 out there were anything but desirable. But in this 
 case she could assure Lady Mary that there was no
 
 XVIII THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE 259 
 
 reason whatever for regret. Miss Treveryan was a 
 charming girl in every way, thoroughly ladylike and 
 refined, unusually well educated, and exceedingly 
 pretty. Her father was a man of the highest reputa- 
 tion, and came of an old west-country family; He 
 had served with distinction in the army, and was now 
 holding a high position in India. He was not a rich 
 man apparently, but during his life he was willing to 
 allow. his daughter £500 a year, and at his death she 
 would no doubt have a little. Altogether, though Guy 
 was young to marry, she could not help saying that 
 he seemed to her to have made as good a choice as he 
 could have made. He appeared to be thoroughly in 
 earnest in the matter. She felt sure that if Lady 
 Mary could bring herself to sanction the engagement, 
 she would not repent it. 
 
 It was near the end of March when these letters 
 were despatched. The answer could not come till 
 they were well into May. In the meantime, as 
 before, the uncertainty was trying to all concerned. 
 Colonel Treveryan could not help feeling a little sore 
 with Guy for having brought on the affair without 
 being sure of his ground, and he could not help letting 
 his feeling appear. He liked Guy, but he thought 
 Helen in all respects Guy's equal, to say the least of 
 it, and he resented the position for her. Guy felt he 
 was blamed, and thought it hard, and at the same 
 time he was conscious of a doubt as to the thoughtful- 
 ness of his behaviour. Helen felt humiliated by the
 
 26o HELEN TREVERYAN chap, xviii 
 
 knowledge that she had given herself into a family 
 who did not want her, and also at the idea that her 
 position was probably known in Syntia. 
 
 It was not altogether a pleasant time for any of 
 them.
 
 CHAPTEE XIX 
 
 TRYING TO DO RIGHT 
 
 The drill season was over now, and the hot weather 
 had fairly set in. All day long the westerly wind 
 moaned about the silent houses. The air was full of 
 driving dust which covered the trees and the earth 
 with a yellow pall, and hid the blue sky though there 
 was never a cloud. The earth was hard and cracked. 
 The thin bony cattle found some kind of food on it, 
 but there was not a sign of green in the bufnt-up 
 grass. Towards evening the wind dropped and the 
 dust settled a little, and the white people came out of 
 their closed houses to breathe the air, which was hot 
 still, but endurable. It was a bad time for the poor 
 women at the barracks and the sad languid children 
 who could not ride or drive, and had nothing to do 
 but to saunter about on the dusty grass. 
 
 Then as ever those got on best who were employed. 
 Over in the Civil Station the work went on as usual. 
 Colonel Treveryan and his assistants got through their 
 daily task somehow, though the heat of their courts 
 and offices was at times almost more than the European
 
 262 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 brain and heart could bear. They solaced themselves 
 with hard exercise, after the manner of Englishmen, 
 riding and shooting and playing racquets and tennis. 
 The jungles had been thinned now by the spring fires, 
 and the game could be seen. Near the station, on the 
 sandy river-bed, the quail were still plentiful ; and the 
 pig-sticking was at its best. In some ways the hot 
 weather was bright enough. No one was away in 
 camp, so that the Civil Station was full. There were 
 always the evenings at the Club, and the friendly 
 dinners, and the moonlight picnics. They got through 
 life without much grumbling after all, though the 
 thermometer was often near 100° in the shade, and 
 one could not sleep at night except under a punkah. 
 
 Among the soldiers there was more idleness and 
 more ill-health. Colonel Aylmer knew of old that in 
 the heat of India there is no enemy so deadly as want 
 of employment, and he tried hard to keep things 
 going ; but there was not much to do. Through the 
 long afternoon many of the men lay on their cots, idle 
 and miserable, cursing the day they were born ; some 
 of the officers gave in too, and suffered for it; Guy 
 Langley and Dale, however, got on well enough. The 
 latter was as keen and merry as ever, ' chivvying 
 things' and playing racquets; and though Guy had 
 fits of depression and repining against the injustice of 
 his fate, he too found comfort in hard physical exer- 
 cise. Then he had Mrs. Aylmer's steady sympathy to 
 turn to, and his correspondence with Helen. No doubt
 
 XIX TRYING TO DO RIGHT 263 
 
 it was dreary work sometimes, particularly in the 
 afternoon, when he felt too dull to take any pleasure 
 in reading and sleep only made him worse. It was 
 fairly cool, with the house shut up and the west wind 
 Mowing through the wet, sweet-scented huskus mat, 
 but it was dark and dreary ; and the dinners and the 
 picnics seemed to him utterly lifeless without Helen's 
 face to brighten them. However, on the whole, he did 
 not find that the time went very slowly. 
 
 Up in Mussooree, among the pines and rhodo- 
 dendrons, Helen was living quietly with Mabs and the 
 French governess. Some of Colonel Treveryan's friends 
 were there for the summer, and they were glad to be 
 kind to her, taking her out to dances and tennis- 
 parties, and trying to make her life happy. They 
 would have done it for her father's sake, and they 
 soon came to do it for her own. It was a pleasure to 
 have charge of a girl who was always well-dressed and 
 well-behaved, and w^as ready to leave the pleasantest 
 party at any moment with a cheery willingness which 
 threw into strong contrast the discontented looks of 
 others. Both with young and old she was soon a 
 favourite, and the budding warriors who got away from 
 their regiments at the beginning of the leave-season 
 were soon crowding round the tall graceful girl who 
 looked so handsome and danced so well; but Helen 
 took their admiration very calmly. She was cheery 
 and open and frank with all of them, but she seemed 
 in no way overwhelmed by their attentions, or eager
 
 264 HELEN TREVERYAN chap- 
 
 to be in the thick of the fun. She was young enough 
 to enjoy herself at times among the bright faces that 
 thronged the 'Happy Valley '; but her heart was often 
 sadder than a young heart should be. In her present 
 mood she found more comfort in the society of Mabs 
 and Eex than in the pony races and the dances ; and 
 many an afternoon, when she might have been among 
 the young men and maidens, she was wandering with 
 the child about the wooded hillsides. Mademoiselle 
 Dufour, the French governess, was a quiet, rather dull 
 woman, who found Mabs a handful and was always 
 glad to be rid of her for a time. She used to get 
 away then and enjoy her only pleasure, poor lady, — 
 a chat with a compatriot who was also a governess in 
 a family at Mussooree. Before long Helen and Mabs 
 became very close friends. Mabs liked Guy Langiey, 
 as all children did, and sometimes she used to talk 
 about him. This in itself was a bond of union, and 
 they had others. 
 
 So the time passed until the middle of May, and 
 then at last came Lady Mary's answer. It was one 
 about which there could be no possibility of mistake. 
 
 When she first received Guy's letter, and Mrs. 
 Aylmer's, Lady Mary had hesitated in her purpose. 
 Her native good sense was not yet wholly extinguished 
 by years of successful tyranny over the wills of others ; 
 and for a moment she had dimly recognised the danger 
 of further opposition. Her husband had more than 
 once expressed his doubts. ]N"ow Mrs. Aylmer had
 
 XIX TRYING TO DO RIGHT 265 
 
 built her a golden bridge ; should she accept it, and 
 retire with honour from a position which was really 
 untenable if seriously attacked ? Unhappily her hesi- 
 tation was shortlived. Since she had written to Guy, 
 she had allowed her mind to dwell upon the idea of 
 bringing about an engagement between him and Clara 
 Schneider. Guy's indiscretion had made her feel that 
 it was desirable to get him safely married, and the 
 more she thought over it the more the plan grew upon 
 her. In all ways it would be an excellent thing for 
 him. The girl was a good girl, and she had, or would 
 have, eight or ten thousand a year. He could not do 
 better. Lady Mary had now made up her mind to 
 this scheme, and she could not give it up. Moreover, 
 the thought of these women coming between her 
 and Guy was unendurable. It would have be^n bad 
 enough to have her plans upset; but to have them 
 upset in this way ; to have her clear warning set aside, 
 and Guy encouraged to dispute her will, that was not 
 to be borne. The girl's behaviour she could under- 
 stand. Of course she would do what she could to 
 catch Guy and keep him, but Mrs. Aylmer ought to 
 have known better. Her interference was simply im- 
 pertinent, and she should be made to understand it. 
 
 Once started, Lady Mary rapidly worked herself up 
 to a state of fiery wrath. The thing she could least 
 endure was insubordination. It enraged and blinded 
 her, and made her fight wildly. Unluckily, a few 
 hours only after Guy's letter arrived, she received
 
 266 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 from another source some information which increased 
 her anger, and completely removed all doubt from her 
 mind. A friend of hers, Mrs. Danby, had a brother 
 who was holding one of the highest positions in India, 
 and Lady Mary had written to her in the hope of 
 getting Guy an appointment on the great man's staff. 
 She had not mentioned her real reason, but had said 
 that he was quartered in Syntia, a dreadful place, 
 very hot and solitary, and that she wanted to get 
 him out of it. The poor boy would be moped to 
 death. 
 
 Mrs. Danby's answer was cordial. She would 
 gladly write to her brother. * I wonder whether I 
 have guessed,' she added, ' why you are anxious to get 
 your boy away from that horrid place. When I was 
 staying a few weeks ago with Jane Pitt Wright, whom 
 I think you know, she told me she had just heard 
 from that clever son of hers, and that he had been 
 shooting there with some Indian man, and had been 
 positively so hunted by the daughter that he had been 
 obliged to pack up his boxes and run away. I wonder 
 whether she has transferred her attentions to your boy. 
 It is quite shameful the way these people are allowed 
 to go on.' It really was too bad. There could be no 
 doubt of the fact. She could remember that Guy had 
 once mentioned Pitt Wright as staying with the 
 Treveryans. Now she was asked to let him marry 
 this bold unprincipled girl, who was probably as bad 
 as she could be ; and the story of Guy's folly must be
 
 XIX TRYING TO DO RIGHT 267 
 
 made known to every one. She felt angry and 
 humiliated, and she felt that she did well to be angry. 
 Poor Helen ! It was a dirty trick that her guest 
 played her when he shook hands and looked into her 
 honest eyes, and gave over that lying letter to her 
 charge ; but men do these things sometimes — English 
 men. 
 
 This time Lady Mary did not go through the farce 
 of making her husband write. She was too much in 
 earnest, and he was really too stupid. But for Mrs. 
 Danby's letter he would have seriously advised a com- 
 promise, if not surrender. So her ladyship sat down 
 to her work, and, as Chimp would have said, 'let 
 herself rip.' She could still write affectionately. 
 Though she was stern and clear, she yet knew the 
 value of a few loving words as an appeal to Guy's 
 feelings, and she would not believe that a few months 
 could be enough to overthrow her empire and make 
 another better loved than herself. If Colonel Tre- 
 veryan had thought it strange that he should be so 
 quickly supplanted, it was natural that she should 
 think such a thing impossible. 
 
 My dearest Guy — I liave received your letter of the 
 — th March, and it has made me more unhappy than I can 
 say. It is impossible that I can ever change my decision 
 about this miserable business. In fact, I have even more 
 reason for it now than I had before. I know you believe 
 all that you say about Miss Treveryan, and perhaps you 
 will be hurt with me for telling you the truth ; but, my 
 boy, she is not fit to be your wife. You remember that
 
 268 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 young Pitt Wright was staying with these people a few months 
 ago ? I have now learned on the best possible authority 
 that they took advantage of having got him into their house 
 in order to try and entrap him, and that she literally gave 
 him no peace until at last he was forced to go off quite 
 suddenly to avoid open unpleasantness. As she cannot get him, 
 she has transferred her attentions to you. You see I know 
 more of what has been going on than you knew yourself ; 
 and I have good reason for saying what I said to you before, 
 that such a marriage is out of the question. Now, my boy, 
 I beg of you to come home to me at once. I can explain things 
 to you more clearly in five minutes' talk than I could do in any 
 number of letters. Don't let yourself be influenced by any 
 feeling of duty to a girl who has behaved so badly to you, and 
 don't permit Mrs. Aylmer to interfere in the matter. It is no 
 affair of hers, and I am astonished at her presuming to write to 
 me about it as she has done. I never cared about her, but I 
 thought she had more sense. Eemember what I wrote to you 
 before. Even if this girl were all you think her, it would be 
 impossible for you to marry her. Your father and I know too 
 well what misery such a marriage would entail, and we can 
 never consent to it. If you were to persevere in disregarding 
 our wishes, which I know you will not do, you would have 
 nothing left to you but your own small means, for your father 
 would at once withdraw the allowance he now gives you. Do, 
 my darling boy, trust my love and care for you, and come back 
 to me. You may think me unkind now, but you will live to 
 see how right I was, and to thank God for your escape. It is 
 the knowledge that I am doing what is right which enables me 
 to be firm in inflicting pain upon you. The girls are well, and 
 send you their best love. Roland is getting on very well at 
 college. — Ever your loving Mother. 
 
 Guy read, this letter with rage in his heart. 
 ' Cowardly brute ! ' he said, with his teeth set. Then 
 a doubt flashed across his mind, from outside as it
 
 XIX TRYING TO DO RIGHT 269 
 
 were, whether there could be any truth in the story. 
 He drove the doubt away instantly, with disgust, 
 remembering Helen's eyes and voice ; they could 
 not deceive. How he hated that man, for the base- 
 ness of the lie, he thought ; really, perhaps, in part, 
 because Pitt Wright had despised the woman he loved, 
 and made him seem weak and contemptible. 
 The letter to Mrs. Aylmer was as follows — 
 
 Dear Madam — I have received your letter of the — th March. 
 You are right in supposing that your interference in this matter 
 appears to me wholly unnecessary. I must decline therefore to 
 continue the correspondence, and can only regret that before 
 offering your opinion with regard to my son's private affairs 
 you did not think it desirable to make more careful inquiries 
 about the character and antecedents of the young woman to 
 whom your letter alludes. — I remain, yours faithfully, 
 
 Mary Langley. 
 
 Mrs. Aylmer put down this letter with a dangerous 
 glitter in her brown eyes. ' What intolerable in- 
 solence ! ' she said. ' Who is Lady Mary that she 
 should dare to write to me like this ? ' Then she 
 repressed herself and laughed, a rather grim laugh. 
 'Well,' she thought, 'it is a lesson to me with a 
 vengeance. Never again will I interfere in other 
 people's affairs. But what a vulgar letter to write ! 
 Even if I was wrong in trying to help them, she 
 might have been decently civil. I thought she was 
 a lady at least. I wonder wdiat she means about 
 Helen. Some nonsense she has heard, I suppose.' 
 Mrs. Aylmer was honest, and admitted to herself that
 
 270 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 she had laid herself open to the rebuff; but Mrs. 
 Aylmer was human, and she resented it none the 
 less. Lady Mary had made a mistake in letting her 
 imperious temper vent itself upon a woman who was 
 quite as determined as she was. From that time Mrs. 
 Aylmer, who also thought herself in the right, fought 
 against her con amove. 
 
 Guy came over after dinner, and asked her whether 
 she had received a letter from his mother. She said 
 yes, and he was too much engrossed with his own 
 feelings to ask any further questions. ' Then you 
 know her answer to me,' he said. 'Well, I have 
 been thinking it all over, and I have come to the 
 conclusion that the only thing left now is to take my 
 own line. I am very sorry my mother cannot see 
 it in the right light, but I cannot let this interfere 
 with Helen's happiness. I shall. write and tell her 
 so, and ask Helen to have me as I am.' He spoke a 
 little pompously, with a touch of affected calm in his 
 voice. As a matter of fact, he was not perhaps quite 
 so determined as he wished to appear. He had come 
 expecting that his announcement would be received 
 with surprise, that Mrs. Aylmer would be a little 
 alarmed at the prospect, and inclined to argue about 
 it, or at all events to advise consideration and caution. 
 In any case she would think it somewhat heroic of 
 him, and applaud his unselfishness and resolution. 
 This being his view, he was just a little disappointed 
 to find the sacrifice taken very quietly. His tone had
 
 XIX TRYING TO DO RIGHT 271 
 
 jarred upon Mrs. Aylmer, and it made her reply seem 
 cold. 
 
 ' I don't see that you can do anything else/ she 
 said. ' You have gone as far as you can in trying to 
 make things run smooth. ^N'ow, if Helen will have 
 you, and Colonel Treveryan allows it, your conscience 
 is clear and you have a perfect right to please your- 
 self.' 
 
 This was not quite what Guy had expected, but he 
 answered pleasantly; and very soon they were talking 
 it over in entire agreement. Finally Guy asked what 
 his mother had said to Mrs. Aylmer. She hesitated, 
 and then produced Lady Mary's letter. After all, why 
 should he not see it ? 
 
 As Guy read it, he felt his face grow hot. ' I am 
 awfully sorry,' he said. ' I never dreamt of your^being 
 exposed to this kind of thing,' and his indignation was 
 aroused against his mother. It is almost always a 
 mistake to be rude. 
 
 Next morning Guy rode over to see Colonel Trever- 
 yan, who was ready with his answer. 'My dear 
 fellow,' he said, when he had heard Guy out, ' I 
 thought this was not impossible. The end of it is 
 that you can't count upon anything beyond your pay 
 and two hundred a year.' 
 
 'Yes, sir, I suppose so.' 
 
 ' You can't live on that as a married man in the 
 Thirtieth.' 
 
 •' No.'
 
 272 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 ' Then what do you intend to do now ? ' 
 
 ' I thought, sir — you were good enough to say that 
 you would help us at first.' 
 
 'Yes, I did say so, and if my daughter has not 
 changed her mind I am still willing to do it. I have 
 no one else to think of now, and even when I retire 
 I suppose I can always manage to find her five 
 hundred a year. I shall not want much myself; 
 but you see that depends on my life. If I were to 
 die, she would have very little. What would you do 
 then ? ' 
 
 ' I hope there is no chance of that, sir ; and besides, 
 I believe my people will give in sooner or later. 
 They're awfully fond of me, really.' 
 
 'No doubt; but they might not. If it came to 
 the worst how could you manage ? ' 
 
 Guy sat looking at a picture on Colonel Treveryan's 
 wall — a couple of men driving to cover in a high dog- 
 cart. At last he said, ' There would always be one 
 way, sir ; I could go in for the Indian service.' 
 
 ' Are you willing to face the chance of having to do 
 that ? ' 
 
 ' You did it, sir ; why shouldn't I ? And I would 
 do anything in the world for her.' 
 
 Colonel Treveryan looked at him hard. He seemed 
 earnest and truthful. ' Very well, Langley. I will 
 abide by Helen's decision. If she still wishes it, I will 
 give her what I have said. I shall write and tell her 
 so to-day.'
 
 XIX TRYING TO DO RIGHT 273 
 
 ' Thank you, sir. I am very grateful to you/ Guy 
 said. ' I don't care what happens if only she will 
 have me.' 
 
 He rode off with joy in his heart. After all, why 
 should he worry ? His mother was sure to come 
 round, and meanwhile they would have enough. It 
 would be all right. Directly he got home he sat down 
 to write to Helen. 
 
 My darling — I wish I had better news to give you ; but 
 I hope that you will not after all think my news so very bad. 
 My mother still refuses to agree to our engagement. She says 
 we cannot live on what we have, and that it would end in 
 misery. She also tells me plainly that if we are married my 
 father will stop my allowance, and that I shall never get any- 
 thing beyond what I have of my own. I have been over to see 
 your father and tell him this, and he has been very good and 
 generous about it. He says that if you will have me. he will 
 not stand in my way, and that he will give you five hundred a 
 year so long as he lives. With what I have, that will be plenty 
 to begin upon, so you will write to me now and tell me that 
 my long waiting is over 1 It has been so hard — almost more 
 than I could bear sometimes. I can't imagine why my mother 
 is so unreasonable about this ; but you know what mothers are. 
 She will come round in time I am certain, and, anyhow, we have 
 done all we could. I do not care a straw what happens to me, if 
 only I have you and your love. There is nothing I would not give 
 up, gladly and proudly, in exchange for that. It almost made 
 me laugh when your father asked me whether I w^as prepared, if 
 necessary, to give up the regiment and go into the Indian ser- 
 vice. It seemed such a little thing in comparison with you. 
 My darling, I am afraid I was very hasty when I first wrote to 
 you. I ought to have thought of all these things before ; but 
 you will not be hard upon me for overlooking them ? It was 
 VOL. I T
 
 274 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 my love for you that drove out of my head every other consider- 
 ation. And you will not think less of me now if I come to you 
 with little besides my sword ? I know you will not. Write 
 soon, and believe me ever your own Guy. 
 
 Colonel Treveryan's letter was affectionate and 
 businesslike. He told Helen exactly how matters 
 stood, and spoke kindly of Guy's behaviour in the 
 matter. What was the use of blaming the boy if she 
 loved him ? And really he was not much to blame 
 after all. Colonel Treveryan begged her to think it 
 all over very carefully before she answered, but he 
 assured her that if she were still of the same mind, 
 there was no cause for hesitation. He could quite 
 well afford to make them the allowance he had offered. 
 As to Langley's people, they probably would come 
 round, and he would not lose anything in the end 
 by his marriage. In any case he was apparently 
 earnest in his desire to win her, and quite ready, if 
 necessary, to make up his mind to an Indian career, 
 which would remove all difficulties. They would 
 never be rich, but they would have enough, even if he 
 were to die, ' Which,' he added, ' I have no present in- 
 tention of doing if I can help it.' 
 
 The two letters reached Helen one morning after 
 breakfast, and they aroused in her a painful conflict of 
 feeling. After reading them, she put on her hat and 
 walked out of the house. Mabs was ' practising ' with 
 Mademoiselle Dufour, and though she had a nice firm 
 touch for so small a child, the sound of her piano per-
 
 XIX TRYING TO DO RIGHT 275 
 
 vaded the house in a rather distracting manner. Rex 
 followed Helen, as he always did, and the two of them 
 went away by a stony path through the wood until 
 they reached a place where Helen often sat. There 
 was a broken gap in the trees below, and looking down 
 through it one could see the plain of the Dera Dun, 
 and the jagged peaks of the low range beyond. 
 
 It was a quiet spot where Helen knew she would 
 be alone, and as she sat down in the shade there was 
 hardly a sound to break the stillness about her. The 
 rainless hot weather had lasted some months now, 
 and though on the heights the air was comparatively 
 cool, the hillsides looked very brown and bare. 
 The crimson blossoms of the rhododendrons had long 
 disappeared from the woods. The snowy peaks to the 
 northward were hidden by the summer haze, and there 
 was a dull yellow glare over the plains to the south. 
 Mussooree itself was dry and dusty. 
 
 Helen took out the two letters again and read them 
 carefully, word by word, and then she sat for an hour 
 or more gazing out through the interlaced branches of 
 the trees, deep in thought. Now and then she altered 
 her position unconsciously, crossing her gauntleted 
 hands over her knee, or joining them in her lap, or 
 leaning her head upon them, and every time she moved 
 Ilex opened his eyes and looked up at her without 
 raising his head from the ground. Her face seemed sad 
 and troubled, as if she were working out some prob- 
 lem that was too hard for her, as indeed she was — a
 
 276 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 motherless girl with all the romance of girlhood in her 
 heart. At last she put her face down upon her hands 
 and burst into tears ; Eex whined and got up and 
 pushed his head into her lap ; then she brushed her 
 tears away and controlled herself. ' Dear old Eex/ 
 she said, with her face working, and her big eyes full ; 
 * I have always got daddy and you ; haven't I ? and 
 that is a great deal more than I deserve, my king. I 
 am going to be very brave, and not let the noblest man 
 in all the world sacrifice himself for my sake.' And 
 then it all came over her again suddenly, and the 
 brown head went down, and the sobs came thick and 
 fast. * Oh, I can't, I can't, Guy, my darling ; I cannot 
 give you up.' The storm of grief swept over her and 
 left her, and when she got up she was calm again and 
 there was a resolute, almost cheerful, look in her eyes. 
 What woman is there who is not capable of that exalta- 
 tion of spirit when she is sacrificing herself for the man 
 she loves ? 
 
 She walked home with her head up and her grace- 
 ful figure erect as ever, and went straight to her room. 
 The post for Syntia left in the evening ; she would 
 not delay. What had to be done had better be done 
 at once before she faltered again. The words came to 
 her readily, and she felt strong and almost happy. ' I 
 am doing right, and God is helping me,' she thought, 
 in her simple, natural faith. 
 
 My dearest — What I am going to say will give you pain, 
 hut some day you will see that I was right, and this makes me
 
 XIX TRYING TO DO RIGHT 277 
 
 able to say it. I cannot accept the sacrifice you are ready to 
 make for me. It would be a cruel thing to take advantage of 
 your unselfishness and let you throw away everything to make 
 me happy. If your mother's answer had been different, you 
 know how gladly I should have done whatever you wished, but 
 I cannot come between you and her, and cut you off from all 
 your own people. I should always feel I had done wrong, and 
 in time you might come to hate me for it, and we should both 
 be miserable. I could not bear that. We shall not be very 
 happy now just at first, for I know you do care for me ; but you 
 will soon see that it was best for you, and once I know that you 
 are content I shall be so. Don't ever think of me. I shall 
 always be glad and proud to think that I was something to you 
 once, and that I was not selfish enough to ruin your life. Now, 
 good-bye. Send me one line to let me know that you under- 
 stand me and forgive me, but don't try to make me change my 
 mind. I know it would be wrong, and I cannot do it. God 
 bless you, and make you very happy some day. Helen. 
 
 This letter was duly despatched the same evening, 
 with one to Colonel Treveryan, telling him what*Helen 
 had done. She said that she had thought it over very 
 carefully, and felt it would be wrong to accept Guy's 
 offer. She had therefore told him so, and everything 
 was at an end between them. ' So you will have me 
 turning up again, daddy, like a bad halfpenny, and will 
 have to make up your mind to keep me for good.' Her 
 self-sacrifice was none the less true and brave for the 
 fact that she sobbed herself to sleep that night after 
 hours of despairing grief, the grief which comes only to 
 the young ; and if at times, during the next two days, 
 she felt a sudden passionate regret for what she had 
 done, and entertained for a moment a hope that she
 
 278 HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 might not be taken at her word, yet she would not, if 
 she could, have withdrawn her letter. 
 
 Mademoiselle Dufour and Mabs noticed her altered 
 looks, and Mabs was evidently concerned about her. 
 Helen saw the child gazing at her with serious eyes, 
 and when Mademoiselle Dufour left the room after 
 breakfast the first day, Helen found a little hand 
 stealing into hers. ' Are you sure there's nothing the 
 matter, auntie ? You look so sad, like mummie did 
 when Uncle Charlie died.' 
 
 Helen caught the child up and kissed her, and 
 laughed off the question ; but Mabs went away uncon- 
 vinced, and more than once Helen found the serious 
 blue eyes fixed upon her again. 
 
 Mademoiselle discouraged the subject. ' Miss Tre- 
 veryan has de headeck,' she said. 
 
 And Mabs answered, ' She wouldn't cry just because 
 she had a headache ; and I know she's been crying. 
 It's awful fag having a headache, of course, but English 
 people don't cry for those sort of things.' With Made- 
 moiselle Dufour Mabs was always patriotic ; and in 
 familiar conversation her language generally bore some 
 traces of her last letter from her brother, who was at 
 school in England. 
 
 Guy Langley's first feeling when he received Helen's 
 letter was one of surprise which rapidly changed into 
 one of alarmed impatience. He thought Helen cared 
 too much for him to resist successfully if he pressed her 
 with all his strength, but he was not perfectly sure.
 
 XIX TRYING TO DO RIGHT 279 
 
 There were hidden depths in her nature which he had 
 not yet sounded. She was not yet his own. The doubt 
 and the opposition incited him, and made him all the 
 warmer in his resolve. He could not, at the first 
 check, go back from all he had said, and seem light and 
 changeable. If she had been put out of his reach by 
 some power against which it was hopeless to contend, 
 he would no doubt have resigned himself before long 
 to the inevitable, and possibly, in time, he might have 
 come to feel that it was better so. But this was a 
 different thing. He could not let her put him aside. 
 Love, and pride, and obstinacy, and an inherited dis- 
 like of opposition, and a sense of chivalrous pity for 
 Helen, combined to urge him forward. 
 
 His answer was masterful, and yet humble. In- 
 stinct teaches most men to blend the two things 
 in dealing with women. ' I will not accept your 
 answer,' he wrote ; ' I will never accept it. You have 
 confessed that you love me ; and having once con- 
 fessed that, you have no right to ask me to give you 
 up. It would be a folly and a wickedness to ruin 
 both our lives in order to humour my mother, who is 
 not in a position to judge, and nothing will ever in- 
 duce me to agree to it. Does not your own Bible tell 
 you that a man will give up father and mother and 
 cleave to his wife ? If you have any other reason for 
 what you have written, if you have lost trust in me, 
 and feel that I am unworthy of you, then I will sub- 
 mit without another word. So long as I live I will be
 
 28o HELEN TREVERYAN chap. 
 
 loyal to every wish of yours ; but the thought is such 
 intolerable misery that I implore you, if indeed you do 
 love me still, not to leave me in doubt an hour longer 
 than necessary. Yet, if that is your true reason, if 
 you no longer feel for me what you once felt, do not 
 hesitate to tell me so. I can bear any pain that your 
 dear hands inflict upon me. I shall never for one 
 moment reproach you or regret that I loved you. You 
 have given me a happiness nothing can ever take from 
 me.' 
 
 Poor Helen ! She had meant to be very brave and 
 determined, but Guy's answer made it cruelly hard, and 
 her resolution was further shaken by a letter which she 
 received from Mrs. Aylmer. It was a little loving 
 note. ' You are the dearest girl in the world,' Mrs. 
 Aylmer said, ' but indeed you are wrong in this. He 
 is very fond of you, and if he ever accepted your de- 
 cision, which, by the way, I am sure he won't, you 
 would only have made him wretched as well as your- 
 self. His mother will see reason sooner or later, and 
 in any case she has no right to come between you. 
 I should think very badly of him if he allowed her to 
 do so. He ought to be, and is, proud of having won 
 you, and you have a perfect right to please yourselves. 
 You will not be doing him harm, but, on the contrary, 
 bringing him great ha]3piness ; and some day you will 
 wonder that you ever doubted it. You may trust me, 
 dear. I would not say it if I did not believe it. Don't 
 think it must necessarily be right to do whatever is
 
 XIX TRYING TO DO RIGHT 281 
 
 hard and painful to you. We were not sent into this 
 world to make ourselves miserable. And don't be angry 
 with me for interfering. I feel as if you were my big 
 daughter, and I can't help trying to keep you from 
 spoiling your own life.' 
 
 Helen did not answer that day. She could not do 
 so. She felt unable to come to any decision. It 
 seemed to her as if she had been left without guidance. 
 She had meant to do right, and it had been so hard. 
 Could all that striving and sorrow have been unneces- 
 sary and useless, and even foolish and wrong ? If only 
 Aunt Madge had been alive ! It was not the poor 
 loving mother of whom she thought in her distress ; 
 she had never known her mother. The pale tired face 
 and the patient eyes had passed out of her life when 
 she was little more than a baby ; when a brave, heart- 
 broken woman had driven away alone through the 
 stone gateway at Laneithin into the darkness and rain 
 of the desolate Cornish roads, leaving behind, to forget 
 her, the child she would have died for. 
 
 Helen Tr every an was awake far into the night, 
 fighting her battle alone ; but there could be only one 
 end to such a conflict. At last, as she knelt by her 
 bedside, her hands clasped before her, and her beauti- 
 ful earnest face white with suffering, while the lamp- 
 light fell like a glory about the bright brown hair, 
 conviction and peace came to her, and she ceased 
 to struggle against her happiness. She 'rose with 
 shining eyes and a deep joy in her heart. It was
 
 282 HELEN TREVERYAN chap, xix 
 
 long past midnight, and everything was silent as she 
 walked to her window and drew aside the curtain. 
 The night was fine and still, and the stars clear. She 
 could see the dark rounded outlines of the hills against 
 the sky, and a single light gleamed faintly from a house 
 among the trees to the northward. She stood a few 
 minutes at the window, with her hand on the curtain, 
 and then came back to her writing-table and sat down. 
 This time she wrote a few words only — 
 
 My dearest — I cannot try to be brave any more. I have 
 never changed for an instant. How could I think you anything 
 but good and true and unselfish when you are giving up so much 
 for me ? You said your mother pressed you to go home. I 
 want you to write by this mail and say you will go directly, if 
 you can get leave. When you come back, if you still want me, 
 I will come to you whether she will have me or not. I only 
 hope I am not doing wrong. I shall never forgive myself if I 
 find in the end that I have brought you unhappiness. Please 
 don't refuse to go home. I could not be happy unless I felt I 
 had done all in my power to prevent things going wrong. You 
 will not distress me by refusing ? — Ever your own 
 
 Helen. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
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