In immediate response, a door opened, and Mrs. Tallboys appeared; a stately figure, clad in a flowing white dressing-gown; yet, in spite of her deshabille, this lady must be accorded a formal, and particular introduction.
Ten years previously, when at home on leave, Major Tallboys elected to take the waters at Harrogate—more as a precaution than otherwise. Here, an idle stranger in the smoking-room of a great hotel, he foregathered with a good-looking, genial neighbour; he liked his face, approved his clothes, and admired his boots. They discussed the weather, racing, and forthcoming meetings, and finally drifted into that absorbing and dangerous mäelstrom—politics. Luckily they were of the same mind, and the unanimity of their opinions, the warmth of their convictions, and mutual detestations, firmly cemented the acquaintance. The agreeable stranger turned out to be Mr. Joseph Bond, a cotton broker from Liverpool, who subsequently presented Major Tallboys to his party. The party was composed of his wife, her sister, Mrs. Tubbs, and a cousin; the latter a pale, lank, dejected lady in mourning. Mrs. Bond and Mrs. Tubbs were of a different type; fine big women, boisterous, and loud of voice, who dressed in the last shriek of fashion, and smoked cigarettes at all hours of the day. When her hilarious companions departed for long motor trips, Miss Bond, abandoned to her own resources, sat reading or sewing in the lounge—or sedately paced the grounds in an unbecoming hat, heavily swathed in crêpe. Major Tallboys, confined to the town by the exigencies of a strict cure,—being naturally sociable and talkative,—made civil overtures to this neglected, and solitary damsel. His manner was attractive, his appearance prepossessing, and as the pair strolled about, he gathered that she had recently experienced a bereavement, and was now alone in the world.
For his part, the dapper little officer volunteered copious information respecting India, and his experiences; he enjoyed the sound of his own voice, whether on parade or otherwise, and in Fanny Bond found an eager, and enraptured listener. As her companion described the glories of the East, its dawns and sunsets, people and pleasures, and drew vivid pictures of marches up-country, and the racing triumphs and hair-breadth adventures of his youth, the lady's interest was gratifying and profound.
In an irresponsible burst of confidence she confided to him, that it had ever been the dream of her life to see the world, and, above all, India.
Day after day, these walks and monologues were prolonged. Her cousins, who had not failed to notice the said walks and talks, tormented their helpless victim with winks, nudges, and vulgar and incessant chaff, that made poor Fanny blush to tears.
When discussing family matters in the privacy of her bedroom, Mrs. Bond had said to her sister: "If the dandy little officer has taken a fancy to Fan—it will be a very good business!"
"Too good to be true," interjected Mrs. Tubbs. "No such luck."
"It's rather a puzzle to know what to do with her; she can't go back to that awful little house in Tranmere, and, besides, she's too young to live alone, and set up a cat and a parrot."
"Yes, poor thing, she's had a starved life, and is as timid as a mouse."
"No wonder, after her awful time with Uncle James," declared Mrs. Bond; "such pinching and screwing, and scolding, and badgering, as was never known. You leave the business to me, and I'll have a little talk with her friend, and let him know that Fan has a bit of money—and no near relations!"