“Good gracious, Miss Gordon! Do you think I look like a lunatic?”
“You see, I have such a dreadful way of coming out with things, that I imagine that what is an irresistible temptation to me, might be the same to other people!”
“You need not be afraid, as far as I am concerned. I can answer for myself that I can hold my tongue. And how are you getting on? Still counting the hours until your departure?” with an air of gay interrogation.
“No, indeed. At first I was desperately home-sick; but I am getting over that now.”
And gradually she was led on to talk of Jessie’s stories, of their celebrated mulberry tree, and of the various quaint local characters. Surely there was some occult influence in the scene; or was it the frank air and pleasant voice of this young man, that thus unlocked her lips? She felt as if she had known him quite a long time; at any rate, he was her first acquaintance in India, and she once more repeated to herself the comforting fact that he was also a poor relation—that alone was a strong bond of sympathy. As they paced the narrow road that edged the lake of Nath Tal, they laughed and talked with a mutual enjoyment that filled the mind of Captain Waring and Mrs. Brande (who were not so happily paired) with dismay on the part of the lady, and disgust on the side of the gentleman. Captain Waring would no doubt have found their conversation insipid to the last degree; it contained no sugared compliments, and not the smallest spice of sentiment or flirtation.
“I have a bargain to propose to you two gentlemen,” said Mrs. Brande, ere they parted for the night. “We are going the same marches, and to the same place; I shall be happy to provide the commissariat, if you will be our escort and protect us. What do you say?” appealing to Captain Waring with a smirk.
“My dear madam, I say that we close with your offer on the spot; it is altogether in our favour,” was his prompt reply.
Mrs. Brande beamed still more effulgently. There was no occasion to consult the other young man.
“Then we will consider it all settled; it is a banderbust,” and taking Honor’s arm, she nodded quite an affectionate good night, and retired into her own quarters.
Precisely at six o’clock the next day the party made a start—the men on sturdy hill ponies, the ladies in dandies. What can be more exquisite than a clear April morning on the lower slopes of the Himalayas? The lake was still and lay half in shadow; the dew glittered among the cherry blossoms, as if they were set in diamonds; the low rush-covered marshes were sprinkled with herds of cattle, and the doves were cooing in the dense woods that overlooked the misty blue plains. The travellers encountered many groups of hill folk, going to work among the cultivated patches lower down, or in the neighbouring tea-gardens, as they passed through a village, a flock of delightful little brown children sallied out and tossed freshly plucked monthly roses into the ladies’ laps, “so charmingly Arcadian and simple,” thought Honor. But she was disillusioned, by the same little brown elves pursuing them for half a mile, with shrill demands for “Bucksheesh! bucksheesh!”