"It's a young fellow who used to live close to my aunts in the north. We grew up together. We aren't engaged. I did not want to be, but I promised if he still wanted me in three years' time from the day he went out, I would think about it. I wanted him to make his way first. He has been out there two years now, and he writes to me constantly. I feel I could go down on my knees before Mr. Neville, if I were ever to see him, and thank him for all he has done. Because George could not keep straight, and I have suffered tortures as I gathered it in his letters. He is not a weak character, I should not care for him if he were; but he is one of those happy generous natures who love their fellow-creatures, and are too simple to suspect guile in anyone.
"He was essentially a home boy. His mother was a widow, and died just before he went abroad, so he has no home or home ties to keep him straight—only me. And he did struggle and try so hard when he went out there, but, as far as I can make out, there wasn't a single soul who gave him a helping hand. Everyone dragged him down. And I felt a month or two ago as if I had completely lost him. He had left off writing for five months. Then he wrote again. Such a letter, and such a confession of the past!
"But he had been taken hold of by Mr. Neville, and he said he felt he could die for him. I little thought how those words would nearly come true. I heard from him two days ago, and he was full of all this that is coming out in the papers, only, of course, he tells me much more. Do you really know Mr. Neville well? How awfully strange. I think he must be a splendid man—a regular hero."
"He was staying down here before he went out," Sidney said, trying to speak calmly. "He is a cousin of Miss Pembroke's. Do tell what you have heard. We are so—so interested in him, and all that is going on out there."
"Oh, George has been full of it. He has told me of all the improvements Mr. Neville has made, and how he has absolutely alone and unaided attacked all the abuses in the place, and pulled things together, and made a clean sweep of the scoundrels and rogues. But, of course, there has been a section dead against him, and furious with him for stopping so much of the drinking and gambling, so they have made mischief and stirred up the natives; and then he was the cause of the native collector at the neighbouring station being removed, and that was the last straw, and one night—the night before George wrote; he was dining with him fortunately—a crowd of natives surrounded his bungalow. His servants ran away, and the ringleader called out for Mr. Neville to show himself. He didn't want any calling, for he was out on the steps in a moment, and one man with a revolver dashed forward and fired full in his face. George was quicker still, and sprang forward and struck up his hand as he fired, so the shot went clear over the bungalow. He stood there before them bareheaded, with his hands in his pockets, and smiled at them, George said.
"'Next man!' he cried. 'I have no firearms about me, and am a good target.' And not a man moved. Then he spoke to them, and George said his speech was simply wonderful. He talked to them like a father might to his children. He told them they had only one life to live down here, and it ought to be a clean life. He was going to help them up, and not down. And then he reasoned with them and pleaded with them, and he reduced some to tears, and some pressed forward and prostrated themselves before him, and the scoundrels slunk away. George said it was like listening to a second Gordon, and Mr. Neville wound up by talking of the Indian and British Empires, which would rise or fall together, and he impressed them with the righteous power of a just nation. Oh, I am not telling it well, but I cried over the letter. It was all so splendid, so inspiring."
Sidney's eyes were moist too, and her heart beating strangely. Why should she be so moved? she asked herself. But, womanlike, she evaded—even to herself—the answer.
"Did he say anything about the troops coming down?"
"Yes; he said that was a very big blunder. Some well-meaning but mistaken fool had written off for them. Mr. Neville told George there would have been no more trouble if the troops had not arrived. As George was writing, he heard that the natives had risen in the hills. And that is why I'm so anxious to get news. I know George will be in the thick of it, for he refuses to leave Mr. Neville's side, and he is not the man to stay inactive."
"Here is the boy with the paper," said Sidney, and she darted out into the hall to get it. Together they bent their heads over it, but there were only two lines, saying that there had been sharp fighting, but the natives had been repulsed, with a few British losses. "Particulars would follow."