Volume Three--Chapter Nine.
Come o’er the sea,
Maiden, with me,
Mine through sunshine, storm and snows;
Seasons may roll,
But the true soul
Burns the same where’er it goes.
Let fate frown on, so we love and part not,
’Tis life where thou art, ’tis death where thou’rt not.
Moore.
The voyage was at last accomplished without adventure or interest, the Windsor Castle not having fallen in with more than two or three vessels during her passage. Happy were the military officers to hear the order given for the anchor to be let go upon their arrival in Madras Roads; more happy were they to find themselves again on shore; and most happy were Captain Oughton and his officers to witness the debarkation of the troops, who had so long crowded their decks and impeded their motions. Parting was indeed sweet sorrow, as it always will be when there is short allowance of room and still shorter allowance of water.
Newton Forster was in a state of anxiety during the quarter of an hour in which he was obliged to attend to his duty, furling the sails and squaring the yards; and the time appeared most insupportably long, until he could venture aft to make some inquiries from the dubashes, who were crowding alongside, as to the fate of Isabel Revel. Time and absence had but matured his passion, and it was seldom that Isabel was away from his thoughts. He had a faint idea formed by hope that she was partial to him; but this was almost smothered by the fears which opposed it, when he reflected upon what might be produced by absence, importunity, and her independent spirit, which might, if not well treated by her relation, reconcile her to a marriage, which, although not in every way eligible, secured her a prospect of contentment and of peace.
At last the yards were squared to the satisfaction of the boatswain, the ropes were hauled taut, and coiled down, and the men sent below to their dinners. Newton walked aft, and the first person he met was the dubash who had attended the Bombay Castle. The cheeks of Newton flushed, and his heart throbbed quick, and his lips quivered, as he asked intelligence of the colonel and his family.
“Colonel Saib quite well, sir. Two ladies marry officer.”
“Which two?” demanded Newton, eagerly.
“Not know how call Bibi Saib’s names. But one not marry—she very handsome—more handsome than all.”
The heart of Newton bounded at this intelligence, as he knew that it must be Isabel who was still a spinster. This was shortly after corroborated by an English gentleman who came on board. Their stay at Madras was intended to be short, and Newton resolved to ask immediate leave on shore. Apologising to Captain Oughton for making such an unusual request, which he was induced to do from intelligence he had just received relative to his friends, he expressed his anxious wish. Captain Oughton, who had reason to be highly satisfied with Newton, gave his consent in the kindest manner; “and, Forster, if you wish to remain, you have my permission. We will manage without you: only recollect, we sail on Thursday night.” Newton was soon ready, and quitted the ship with Major Clavering; to whose credit it ought here to be observed, that a daily note was despatched to Captain Oughton, requesting the pleasure of his company at the mess, until he was satisfied that, in this instance, the general invitation was sincere.
As soon as he was clear of the surf, and out of the masulah boat, Newton hired a conveyance, and drove out to the bungalo of the old colonel. He trembled as he announced his name to the butler, who ushered him half way to the receiving room; and, like most of the natives, finding some difficulty in pronouncing English, contented himself with calling out “burrah saib,” and then walked off. Newton found himself in the presence of the old veteran and Isabel. The latter had been reading a new publication, which she laid down at the voice of the butler announcing a visitor. But “burrah saib” may be any body; it implies a gentleman. What then was the surprise of Isabel, who had no intimation of his arrival, when Newton Forster made his appearance? Her exclamation of delight, as she ran to him and extended her hand, made Newton Forster but too happy; and, as for a few seconds he held the hand not withdrawn, and looked in her beaming eyes, he quite forgot the presence of the colonel. A glance from the eye of Isabel in the direction where the old gentleman was seated, brought Newton to his recollection. He walked up to the colonel, who shook hands, and declared that he was most glad to see him.
“You take up your quarters here, of course, Mr Forster?”
“I shall have great pleasure in availing myself of your kind offer for a day or two,” replied Newton. “I trust that you have been in good health since we parted.”
“Not very; that is, latterly. I am thinking of a change of climate. I intend to go home in October. I suppose you have been informed that the two young women have married?”
“I was told so by some one who came on board.”
“Yes. Isabel, my dear, order a chamber for Mr Forster.” Isabel left the room. “Yes, both married—thought of nothing else—regularly came out on spec. In less than a month they knew the exact rank of every gentleman in the presidency; ascertained their prospects, and the value of their appointments; turned the rupees into pounds sterling; broke off a conversation with an ensign at the sight of a lieutenant; cut the lieutenant for a captain; were all smiles for a major; and actually made love themselves to any body who was above that rank, and a bachelor. They made their decision at last; indeed pretty quick. They were only four months on my hands. Both up the country now.”
“I trust they have married well, sir?”
“That depends upon circumstances. They have married young men not used to the climate. May be widows in half a year. If their husbands weather it, of course they will come in for their share of the good things; but I’ll warrant they will never be able to leave the country.”
“Not leave the country, sir! May I ask why?”
“Because they have married foolish, extravagant wives, who will run them in debt; and when once in debt, it is no easy matter in this country to get out of it. They must insure their lives for the money which they borrow; and as the house of agency will be gainers by their demise, of course they will not be permitted to leave the country and their chance of the cholera morbus. Don’t you think that my niece looks remarkably well?”
“I do; the climate does not appear to have affected her.”
“Rather improved her,” replied the colonel; “she is not so thin as when she came on shore. God bless her! I’m sure, Mr Forster, I am under great obligations to you for having persuaded me to go for the dear girl when she arrived. She has been a treasure to me! If she has had one, she has had twenty offers since you left; many unexceptionable; but she has refused them all. In some instances I have persuaded her—I thought it was my duty. But no; she has but one answer, and that is a decided one. She will not leave me. She has watched and attended me in my sickness as my own daughter. I say again, God bless her!”
It was with delight that Newton heard these encomiums upon Isabel, and, her resolution not to marry. Whether it was wholly on account of not wishing to leave the colonel or not, still every delay gave him more chance of ultimate success. Isabel, who had stayed away that the colonel might have time to make any communications to Newton, now returned, and the conversation became general. Newton entered into a narrative of what had occurred during his passage home, and amused them with his anecdotes and conversation.
In about an hour the colonel rose from his chair that he might prepare for dinner; and then it was that Newton perceived the great change which had taken place. He was no longer upright but bowed down; his step was no longer firm, it was almost tottering; and, as he left the room, Newton’s eyes met those of Isabel.
“You think him ill?” said Isabel, inquiringly.
“Yes, I do, Miss Revel. He is very much changed; his stamina appears to have been exhausted by the climate. I trust he will go home, as he proposes.”
“He has been ill—very ill indeed. He talks constantly of going home; he has done so for months; but when the time comes he puts it off. I wish you would persuade him.”
“I will do all I can; but if you cannot prevail, I’m afraid that my persuasion will be of little use.”
“Indeed, I think otherwise; you have power over him, Mr Forster. I have not forgot how kindly you exercised it in my behalf. We—that is,” continued Isabel, colouring up, “the colonel has often talked of you since you quitted us.”
“I feel highly flattered by his remembrance,” replied Newton; “but you are in mourning, Miss Revel. If not a liberty from one who feels an interest in all concerning you, may I inquire for whom?”
“It is for my father,” replied Isabel, with emotion, sitting down and passing her hand across her eyes.
“I never heard of his death, and must apologise for having been so indiscreet as to renew your sorrow. How long is it since? and what was his complaint?”
“He had no complaint—would to God that he had had! He was shot in a duel,” replied Isabel, as the tears coursed down her cheeks. “Oh! Mr Forster, I trust I am resigned to the dispensations of Providence, but—that he should be summoned away at the moment when he was seeking the life of his fellow-creature, with all the worst passions in excitement—unprepared—for he was killed on the spot. These reflections will make his death a source of bitter regret, which can terminate but with existence.”
“Your mother is still alive?” inquired Newton, to change the painful subject.
“Yes, but very ill; the last accounts were very distressing; they say that her complaint is incurable.”
Newton regretted having brought up so painful a subject. A few words of condolence and sympathy were offered, and they separated to prepare for dinner.
Newton remained four days under the roof of the colonel, during which time he was constantly in the society of Isabel; and when the period of his departure arrived, he had just grounds to imagine that were all obstacles in other points removed, Isabel Revel would not, on her part, have raised any against the accomplishment of his wishes; but their mutual dependent situations chased away all ideas of the kind for the present, and although they parted with unconcealed emotion, not a word which could be construed into a declaration of attachment was permitted to escape his lips.
The Windsor Castle sailed for Calcutta, and in a few days anchored at Kedgeree to wait for a pilot to come down the river. During their short stay at this anchorage, Mr Williams, the first-mate, who was an old Indian voyager, went on shore every evening to follow up his darling amusement of shooting jackals, a description of game by no means scarce in that quarter of the world. Often remonstrated with for his imprudence in exposing himself to the heavy night-dew he would listen to no advice. “It was very true,” he acknowledged, “that his brother had died of a jungle fever in pursuing the same amusement, and what was more, the fowling-piece in his hand belonged to his brother, who had bequeathed it to him; but as he had never heard of two brothers dying from a jungle fever taken by shooting jackals, he considered that the odds were strongly in his favour.” This argument, however specious, did not prove good. The third morning he returned on board, complaining of a head-ache and shivering. He was bled and put into his bed, which he never left again.
Before the Windsor Castle was ready to sail, the remains of Mr Williams were consigned to the burying-ground at Diamond Harbour, and Newton Forster was promoted to the rank of first-mate of the Windsor Castle. This, as will hereafter be proved, was a most fortunate occurrence to Newton Forster. The Windsor Castle sailed with leave to call at Madras for letters or passengers, and in a few days was again at anchor in the roadstead. The first intelligence which they received upon their arrival was, that the cholera morbus had been very fatal, and that among others, the old colonel had fallen a victim to the disease. Newton again obtained permission to go on shore to Isabel. He found her in distress at the house of a Mrs Enderby, a lady who had lost her husband by the same ravaging epidemic, and who had long been the intimate friend of the colonel and of Isabel. Mrs Enderby was about to return to England by the first vessel, and had advised Isabel to take so favourable an opportunity of a chaperone. Isabel, who had many reasons for wishing to leave the country, particularly the declining state of her mother’s health, had consented; and it was with great pleasure that she received from Newton the information of the best cabins of the Windsor Castle not having been hitherto engaged.
The colonel’s will had been opened. He had bequeathed his property, the whole of which, with the exception of his establishment in India, was invested in the English funds, to his grand-niece Isabel Revel. It amounted to nearly seventy thousand pounds. It would be difficult to say whether Newton Forster felt glad or sorry at this intelligence. For Isabel’s sake, he undoubtedly was glad, but he could not but feel that it increased the distance between them, and on that account, and on that alone, his reflections were painful. “Had it,” thought he, “been five thousand, or even ten thousand pounds, it would have been different. In the course of a few years I might have been able to produce an equivalent to it, and—but this fortune has raised her above my hopes; even if she had a prepossession in my favour, it would be dishonest to take advantage of it.”
Isabel Revel had very different feelings on the subject;—she was her own mistress, and her manner to Newton was more cordial, more confidential than before. She had not forgotten that Newton had shown the same regard and partiality for her when she was going out to India; and afterwards, when in distress, he had been her friend and admirer when in adversity. She knew his feelings towards her, and she had appreciated his delicacy and forbearance. Lately she had seriously analysed her own, and her analysis was wound up by a mental acknowledgment, that her wealth would be valueless, if she could not share it with Newton Forster.
At the request of Mrs Enderby, the poop cabins were engaged for Isabel and herself. Their time for preparation was short; but one day more having been obtained from Captain Oughton, through the influence of Newton, Mrs Enderby and Isabel embarked, and the Windsor Castle spread her canvas, sailing away from pestilence and death.