“Pretty, yes; inexperienced, no; young, no.”
“He has married her for herself alone. She has not a fraction; he actually paid for her passage. Her face is her sole fortune.”
“If he could but see her in her true colours, I am sure he would thankfully furnish her with a return ticket,” said Miss Gay briskly—“and there’s the first bell, let us hurry down and get dressed before she appears upon the scene, for you know, we won’t get near the glass!”
The Nankin arrived in Bombay a few hours earlier than she was expected, and the steam launch which brought off the company’s agent, various eager husbands, some servants to welcome old masters, and all the letters—did not bring George Holroyd.
The Calverts and their fair charge had been installed for some hours at Watson’s Hotel before he made his appearance, and during that time, although the bride-elect showed no anxiety, Mrs. Calvert was a prey to many misgivings.
Could he have heard of her quarrels and flirtations? Could he have changed his mind at the eleventh hour?
Belle, attired in a fresh and becoming toilette, was seated in the big verandah, surrounded by hopeful hawkers, and the cynosure of many admiring eyes. Some of her fellow-passengers were also sitting, or standing about, and there was a whisper among them, that possibly Miss Redmond’s bridegroom had cried off. They were all rather curious to see what manner of man he was, and his non-appearance occasioned some disappointment, and more excitement, now that an element of uncertainty was imported into the situation. But there was not the shadow of a cloud in Miss Redmond’s face, as she turned over jewellery and silver articles with childish delight, and excitedly bargained for rugs and phool-carries for her future drawing-room. Hearing a sudden exclamation of joy and relief from Mrs. Calvert, she raised her eyes, and saw George ascending the stairs, and with a bound across a case of rings, and three silver sugar-bowls, she fluttered out to meet him.
He was greatly altered, he looked worn, thin, and haggard; and he seemed to have aged ten years; his neatly-fitting tight suit hung loosely on him, and his hands were as emaciated as if he had just recovered from a long illness.
He explained, when the first greetings were over with Belle and the Calverts, that his train had broken down on the Ghauts, entailing a delay of twelve hours, and after a short parley, Belle, who was not the least bashful, placed her arm frankly within his, and led him away through a staring circle, into the privacy of the ladies’ sitting-room,—which happened to be empty.
“Well, George,” she exclaimed, “here I am you see,” and she put her hand on his shoulder, and gazed smilingly into his face.