"Please don't mind about me, Mrs. Creery," exclaimed that lady. "You know that I neither play, nor sing, nor write poetry."
Mrs. Manners was a sprightly person, regarded by Mrs. Creery with suspicion and dislike, and she now glowered on her menacingly.
"I am very glad to see Miss Denis, and I hope she will overlook my numerous deficiencies!" quoth Mrs. Manners unabashed.
All the ladies had now been, as it were, "told off," excepting Miss Caggett, who approached and squeezed Helen's fingers, and looked up in her face, and said,—
"So thankful, dear, that you have come! It's so wretched for me, being the only girl in the settlement. You can't think how I have been looking forward to this," another squeeze.
Miss Lizzie Caggett was small in person (and mind) and had a very pretty little figure, black hair, bright, reddish-brown eyes, an ugly nose, and an almost lipless mouth, garnished with beautiful teeth. She had been born in India, had had three years at school in England, and been "out" for a considerable number of seasons. She danced like a sylph, talked Hindostani like a native (and it was whispered that she gossipped with her ayah in that language), dressed extravagantly, was as lively as a French-woman, and sufficiently nice-looking to be considered a beauty—where she was the only unmarried lady among fifty men.
She had a shrewd eye to the main chance, and never allowed her feelings to betray her, save, alas! in the case of James Quentin!
He, from sheer lack of something to do, had been wont to spend his idle hours in Miss Caggett's society. She was amusing and lively, and said such deliciously spiteful things of other women, and told capital stories, accompanied by vehement gesticulation with her tiny hands. She had also a nice little voice,—and it came to pass that they sang duets together, and walked on the pier by moonlight alone!
Mr. Quentin meant nothing, of course, and at first Lizzie quite understood this, but by degrees her strong foothold of common sense slipped away from under her feet, and she fell desperately in love with the blue-eyed gay deceiver, and naturally tried to convince herself that it was mutual! She steeled herself to see him pay a little attention to the rising sun—Miss Helen Denis—they would all do that, but when the novelty had worn off, things would right themselves, and fall back into their old places—meaning that Mr. Quentin would fall back into his, i.e., at her side. Mrs. Creery had previously broken the news to her that "Helen Denis was nice-looking, and beautifully dressed," but she was by no means prepared for the face and figure she beheld coming up the walk; and James Quentin in attendance already,—actually before she was twenty-four hours on the island! However, she made a brave struggle, and bit her lips, and clenched her small hands, and broke into a smile. She had made up her mind to be the bosom friend (outwardly), and, if possible, the confidante of this tall, shy-looking Denis girl!
After all, who could expect her to be pleased, to see a young and pretty rival monopolizing every one's attention, and thrusting her into the background?