"You did—and then under the oak tree, too! I felt there was something."
"Bright little star!" Hiding a smile, he raised her hand and kissed each pink finger-tip with deliberate enjoyment.
CHAPTER VI
"I got your letter," wrote Stella to Maud Verrall, "and am awfully glad about your news, though at the time it made me feel simply green with envy. How little I thought I should have some news to tell you when I answered it. Don't faint, but your little friend is also engaged, and going to India! I could turn head over heels with joy. Perhaps we shall meet next as married ladies! Wouldn't it be fun if we went out in the same ship? My fiancé is a big, tall man, much older than me; but I don't mind that a bit. There is something rather romantic, I think, in the idea of a husband a good deal older than oneself. He hasn't got a beard, and is not at all bald. I like him very much, and he spoils me frightfully. Before we sail I am to have singing lessons and learn to ride, and he says I can order what clothes I like. He is giving me a real pearl necklace. His name is Colonel Crayfield, so my initials will still be the same. Old Betty says that is unlucky, but I don't believe her; nothing could be unlucky that gets me to India. It's all like a heavenly dream, only a dream that will go on; no waking up to find myself stuck at The Chestnuts with nothing to hope for but deadliness evermore. I suppose I am an ungrateful pig. I know grandmamma and the aunts are fond of me, and of course I am fond of them, but I can think of nothing but my own good luck. They don't seem altogether pleased about it; I can't imagine why, except that they never have wanted me to enjoy myself. I really believe they think it's wicked to be pleased about anything but the garden and sermons and the weather. However, I don't care. I am going to India, and nothing else matters on this earth."
So the "heavenly dream" continued, unmarred by the odd lack of sympathy displayed by grandmamma and the aunts, and, if anything, enhanced by the departure of Colonel Crayfield for London; his absence left Stella more free to indulge her fancies, to lose herself in visions, to revel, almost as though drugged, in blissful imaginings. Her betrothed sent presents and frequent letters that, though short, were fervent, and added to the glamour.
Thus time flew by, till the day of the marriage, which took place, very quietly, in the little old church. The ceremony was performed by Canon Grass in a manner, as Stella afterwards declared, that was more befitting a funeral than a wedding. She attributed his lugubrious voice and demeanour to the fact that the unfortunate gentleman was so ill-mated himself. Mrs. Grass attended the service in her invalid chair, and looked like a rag doll—poor thing, and poor Canon Grass! Grandmamma did not even have a new bonnet, and might have been a graven image. Aunt Augusta behaved as if they were all doing something wrong; and, of course, Aunt Ellen wept.
Stella thought it really very horrid of them, when she herself was feeling so jubilant, and dear old Santa-Sahib was so nice and so kind, and looked almost "a picture" in his new clothes. He had grown a little thinner, which was a great improvement. She wore the pearl necklace, his wedding gift—it was lovely! Why did everybody but Santa-Sahib seem to wish to damp her spirits, to put a spoke in the wheel of her pleasure? Of course, there was no reception, no fuss; that she had not expected; all she would have liked, and resented not having received, was just a little sympathy with her state of joy—a little acknowledgment of her good fortune.
They drove straight from the church to the station to catch the express for London; and from then onwards "the dream" became rather more harassing than heavenly! Stella found herself in a sumptuous hotel; there was a lady's maid, a smart person engaged by Colonel Crayfield until the date of their sailing, who embarrassed her. She was confused, dismayed by revelations that, it appeared, were inseparable from matrimony, and therefore had to be accepted as a sort of toll-bar on the road to India. The weeks were packed with ceaseless activities: singing lessons, riding lessons, dressmakers, restaurants, shops, theatres.