"Oh, that was a treat. Now do find us a cosy corner!"
But instead of complying with this alluring request, her cavalier conducted the lady to a prominent chair, and with a formal bow, withdrew, sternly determined that he would not—as she had broadly hinted—be her companion in a "Kàla Jaga" and at supper.
The next grand ball took place within the ancient walls of Fort St. George; and Mallender, who was now on his guard, hastened to fill his programme at the earliest opportunity. He secured dances with Nancy, Mrs. Villars, Mrs. Wylie, and various pretty girls, but gave Mrs. Miller a cautiously wide berth, steadily ignoring her smiles, signals, and even wafted kisses!
However, she danced all night, as if for very life; but he noticed that little Miss Barbie—looking rather white and woebegone—sat out the greater part of the evening with her burly Colonel.
CHAPTER IX
After two postponements, the polo tournament at last came off, and provided the community with an exciting entertainment. Colonel and Mrs. Tallboys never missed a single match; he being umpire, and a much respected authority on the polo ground, here this former brilliant performer was in his element. The little man knew most of the players well, and was acquainted with the personal character, merits or delinquencies, of every competing pony. The final, between the Chaffinches and the Marauders, brought all Madras to the Island, on a certain Thursday afternoon. Both teams were in magnificent form, and after a severely contested match, the Chaffinches won by six goals to five, amidst shouts and yells of applause.
Subsequently, Captain Byng received the cup at the gracious hands of Her Excellency, and when Mallender joined the party from Hooper's Gardens, he was accorded an ample share of praise; for his hard straight hitting, and fine driving power, had more than once saved the game. Colonel Tallboys rode about from group to group on his smart pony, a proud and happy man, and Mrs. Villars, looking lovely in a great feathered hat, gazed at the hero with her inspiring eyes, and whispered "Shabash!"
The syren had undoubtedly caught Geoffrey in her toils; he was acutely sensible of the glamour of her personality. With Lena Villars, appearances were not altogether deceitful, nor beauty vain. She had a soft low voice, a sympathetic, profoundly interested manner. Lena was not clever—and candidly admitted the fact—but professed that nothing gave her so much pleasure as to be with and listen to clever people—subtly insinuating that such were her companions. The charming widow was gentle, and timid—except at bridge, where her courage was more or less foolhardy—and always lovely to behold. Her white gowns, and tussore suits, appeared different to those of other women; so fresh, so creaseless, so eminently becoming. Her hats, and Panamas, exactly suited her. Of an evening in the verandah, with a chiffon scarf twisted about her head, it seemed to Mallender that he was contemplating a Madonna—or an angel. The fascinated young man was ready to do whatever the lady willed, and was almost as one who is hypnotised, or drugged—and yet, he was not in love with her; merely her servant, her anxious attendant, one of her many slaves.
The season began to wane, and the guests at Hooper's Gardens to dwindle in numbers. Mrs. Villars, Nancy, Sir William, the Wylies, and Geoffrey, were all that remained. People were now preparing to ship themselves to England, or to make engagements, and arrangements for the Hills.