Mr. Lisle went slowly back to the pier; it was almost deserted now. Tommy Atkins had adjourned to his well-earned supper, the jailer to his rice, the Andamanese to unknown horrors. The zemindar is alone—alone he stands, and sees what is to him another wasted sun sink into the sea like a ball of crimson fire! Apparently he is unconscious of a figure, who comes and leans over the railings, with his eyes fixed abstractedly on the sea, till with a sudden flash they become riveted on something, scarcely deserving such eager inspection—merely a floating flower! As Gilbert Lisle gazed, he was the prey of sore temptation. Surely, he argued with himself, there would be no harm in picking up a castaway lily, even Quentin would hardly grudge him that, and he might as well have it as the sea! Then he turned half away, as if thrusting the impulse from him (the convict now noticed him for the first time); but the flower was potent, and drew him back; he leant his arms on the railings, and stared at it steadily. The zemindar watched him narrowly out of his long, black eyes. The Sahib was debating some important question in his own mind! he looked at his watch, he glanced nervously up and down the pier, apparently his companion was as nought. Then he hurried to the foot of the steps and unmoored a punt, and rowed out several lengths, in quest of what? A white flower that the tall English girl had thrown away.
The native followed his quest with scornful interest. He has it now;—no, it has evaded him, and still floats on. Ah, he has reached it this time, he has lifted it out of the water, as reverently as if it were one of the sacred hairs of Buddha! He has dried it; he has concealed it in his coat!
Bah! the Feringhee is a fool!
CHAPTER XVII.
THE BALL.
"There was a sound of revelry by night."
Night had fallen, and the full moon to which Dr. Malone had alluded was sailing overhead, and flooding Ross with a light that was almost fierce in its intensity; the island seemed to be set in a silver sea, over which various heavily laden boats were rowing from the mainland, conveying company to the ball! Jampans bearing ladies were to be seen going up towards the mess-house in single file, the guests kept pouring in, and, despite the paucity of the fair sex, made a goodly show! We notice Mrs. Creery (as who would not?) in a crimson satin, with low body, short sleeves, and a black velvet coronet on her head. Helen Denis in white muslin, with natural flowers; she had been forbidden by the former lady to even so much as think of her white silk, but had, nevertheless, cast many yearnings in that direction. All the same, she looks as well as her best friends could wish, and a certain nervousness and anticipation gives unwonted brilliancy to her colour (indeed Miss Caggett has already whispered "paint!"), and unusual brightness to her eyes.
The world seems a very good place to her this evening. She is little more than eighteen, and it is her first dance; if she has an arrière pensée, it has to do with Mr. Lisle, who after being so—well, shall we say "interesting?" and behaving so heroically, has calmly subsided into his normal state, viz. obscurity. What is the reason of it? Why will he not even speak to her? Little does she guess at the real motive of his absence. As little as that, during his long daily excursions by land and sea, a face, hers, forms a constant background to all his thoughts—try and forget it as he will.
The mess-room looked like a fairy bower, with festoons of trailing creepers and orchids twined along the walls, with big palms and ferns, in lavish profusion, in every available nook. It was lit up by dozens of wall-lamps, the floor was as smooth as glass, and all the most comfortable chairs in Ross were disposed about the ante-room and verandahs.
The five-and-forty men were struggling into their gloves, and hanging round the door, as is their usual behaviour, preliminary to a dance; and the seventeen ladies were scattered about, as though resolved to make as much show as possible. Mrs. Creery occupied a conspicuous position; she stood exactly in the middle of the ball-room, holding converse with the General, who bowed his head acquiescently from time to time, but was never so mad as to try and get in a word edgeways. "Nip" was seated on a sofa, alert and wide awake, plainly looking upon the whole affair as tomfoolery and nonsense; but he had been to previous entertainments, and knew that there was such a thing as supper!