Volume Two—Chapter Eight.
Danger Ahead.
Grey Stuart lost her cavalier Chumbley soon after supper, for the Princess pointed to a chair beside her, Hilton being very quiet and distant, and in spite of several reproachful glances from his companion’s eyes, proving to be very poor company indeed.
In fact, as soon as he could with decency give up what was to him a tiresome duty, Hilton left the Malay Princess’s side, making the vacancy that was filled up by Grey, while soon after the Rajah came and took a chair upon the other side of the Scottish maiden, chatting to her with a slight hesitancy of speech, but pleasantly and well.
“Do you enjoy—this party?” he said.
“Oh! so much!” replied Grey. “It is so different from anything at home.”
“At home?” queried the Prince, who knew the simplicity of old Stuart’s household.
“I mean at home in England.”
“Oh! yes, I see. At home in England,” said the Prince musingly. “I must go and see at home in England. I should like to go.”
“You would be much pleased, I am sure,” said Grey, smiling; “but it is a very bad climate.”
“That is why you English come to our beautiful land. I see!” exclaimed the Prince. “But you enjoy yourself—this party?”
“Oh! very much!” cried Grey; but a shadow crossed her countenance as she spoke.
“I have said I will try and pass you all,” said the Prince, laughing. “I mean mine to be the greatest of the fêtes. It must be; for if I do not make mine a grander party than all, my people will look down upon me, and say, ‘See how weak and poor he is compared to the English!’ I must make mine very brave and good.”
“I hear what you are saying,” exclaimed the Inche Maida; “but I will excel you; for I will give another party, greater, and brighter, and more beautiful still. Miss Stuart will help me with good advice, and mine shall be more English than yours. We will not be beaten.”
“No, no!” said the Rajah, laughing; “do not help her, Miss Stuart; help me, and I will be so grateful. It is so easy to say I will give a grand party, but it is hard to make it so that it will please these English gentlemen and ladies.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, Prince,” said the Inche Maida.
“Of course—yes,” he replied. “That is where I make things wrong. You English place the ladies first, and I always make mistakes like that.”
“You will soon acquire our habits,” said Grey, who could not help her eyes wandering in search of Hilton.
“Thank you,” said the Prince. “I shall try; but as I say, it is so hard to make a feast quite right. If I want to make a banquet for my people with flowers, and fireworks, and elephants, and gongs, and tom-toms, it is all so easy; but an English party, to satisfy all you—ah! it is too much.”
Meanwhile, heart-sick and disgusted with everything and everybody present, Hilton wandered away to the pagoda, where Mr Stuart had taken up hi quarters directly after supper.
“Hullo! young fellow,” said the old merchant, gruffly, “come to your senses again?”
“Senses? Haven’t been out of them that I know of,” retorted Hilton.
“Well, ye’ve been running wild after Perowne’s lassie.”
“Mr Stuart!”
“And one never sees her without Captain Hilton ahint her.”
“Mr Stuart, I was not aware that I was answerable to you for my conduct,” exclaimed the young officer, hotly.
“Nay—nay—nay—dinna—don’t be fashed, laddie, I was vexed to see ye rinning after a lassie who will throw ye over for the next man she sees—that’s a’—”
“Mr Stuart, I will not listen to anything in Miss Perowne’s disparagement!” cried the young man hotly. “How dare you speak to me like this!”
“Have a cigar, laddie?” said the old Scot, drily. “They’re verra good, and they’ll soothe ye down better than anything I ken.”
Hilton glared at him angrily. “There, there, there, let me have my say, laddie. I rather like ye, Hilton, though ye are only a soldier; so don’t fly in a passion with an old man. Tak’ a cigar.”
Hilton hesitated, but finally took the cigar, lit it, and began to smoke.
“I ken weel what’s wrong,” said the old man; “but never heed it, mon. It mak’s ye sore to-day, but ye’ll soon get over it. I’ve seen ivery thing that’s gone on sin the lassies have been here. Try a drappie o’ that whuskie, laddie; that and yon cigar will mak’ ye forget all about the trouble wi’ the girl.”
“Mr Stuart, I must request you to be silent upon this question, unless you wish to quarrel.”
“Quarrel? Not I, lad! I’m as peaceable a body as ever lived; but tak’ my advice—don’t wherret yoursel’ about Helen Perowne. She’s not made for ye.”
“Sir!”
“Hoot, laddie, in a passion again! I tell ye you’re much too good for such a body as she. I ken she’s handsome enough for an angel; but what’s all that if she don’t care a twistle o’ the finger for ye?” Bertie Hilton frowned heavily and smoked furiously; while, when the old merchant thrust the whiskey decanter towards him, he snatched it up, poured out half a tumbler full, and had stretched out his hand to take it and gulp it down, when, to his surprise and anger, old Stuart snatched the tumbler away, poured half of the spirit back into the decanter, and then filled up the tumbler with water.
“Not while I’m sitting by ye, Bertie Hilton,” said the old man. “I like my whuskie and I like to see a fren’ enjoy his drappie wi’ me; but it must be a drappie. When I see a man making a fool o’ himsel’ by taking more than is good, I just stop him if I can, as I stopped you.”
The young man’s face flushed, and an angry remark was about to issue from his lips, when the ridiculous and friendly sides of the question presented themselves to him, and instead of going into a fit of temper consequent upon his irritable state, he burst into a hearty fit of laughter.
“Hah! That’s better, my lad,” said the old merchant, smiling in his dry, grim fashion. “I like that. Ye’re an officer and ye know how to command yourself as well as your men. Now then, sit down and sup your whuskie and smoke like a man.”
“You shall be obeyed, sir,” said Hilton, good-humouredly.
“That’s right, laddie. Tak’ your misfortunes like a man. I know it’s hard to bear, and nothing wherrets a man more than seeing a lassie play wi’ others before his very een, when a’ the time she has been leading him to believe she cares for him alone?”
“Would it be a very difficult task to you, Mr Stuart, to leave my private affairs alone?” said Hilton, quietly.
“Oh, ay, I’ll leave them alone if ye’ll only be sensible and act like a mon. Bertie Hilton, ye’re a big mon, and a captain in Her Majesty’s service, and ye’re been acting like a weak boy.”
Hilton’s eyes flashed again as he turned angrily upon the old man, who seemed to become more Scottish in his language as he slowly imbibed his native drink.
“I see ya glowering at me, my lad; but I dinna mind it, for I’m one of your best frens, and when I thrash ye with words about your lassie it’s a’ for your good. There, haud yer whisht. I ken what ye’d say, that ye’re a mon and not a boy to be dictated to by an old Scotchman like this.”
“Well, I was thinking something of the kind, Mr Stuart, and so I tell you frankly,” cried Hilton, who could not help feeling amused at the old man’s dry ways. The reproofs, too, came at a time when the younger was very much open to conviction, for his experiences of the last few days had all been towards showing him that Helen Perowne was trifling with him, and if she were now, he felt that she had been from the first.
Still, it was very painful to have to be taken to task like this upon so tender a subject; and after sitting awhile with the old man, he suddenly jumped up, relit his cigar, which he had allowed to go out, and nodding shortly, he strolled out of the pagoda into the grounds.
“Coming to his senses,” said old Stuart, in a thoughtful way. “Hah! I should go rather cross it my lassie were to carry on like Perowne’s Helen. Why, she drives nearly all the young fellows wild. The young hussy! she ought to be shut up in a convent till she comes to her senses. I’d have none of it at home with me.”