To this arrangement Mrs. Brande (who had now recovered her composure and her wits) saw no objection. Quite the contrary, it was a capital idea. As for herself, she felt so shattered and so nervous, that she could not allow Mr. Jervis out of her sight.
They were now within seven miles of Shirani, and oh! what interminable miles—they seemed leagues—leagues of dreary monotonous road, winding and twisting round barren fawn-coloured hills, and apparently taking them straight into the very heart of Asia. They wound up and down valleys, to the crest of a range, which hid, as they fondly hoped, long-looked-for Shirani. Alas! it but gave them a view of yet another valley—yet another rounded hill slope. Honor was not surprised to hear that a lady of her aunt’s acquaintance, on her first visit, had, after a series of these maddening disappointments, collapsed on the journey, and given way to a storm of hysterical tears. Sometimes Honor walked—walked by preference, but at others, she mounted the pony in deference to her chaperon’s wishes. She did not enjoy her ride, it consisted of a gradual slide, slide, slide, a recover, then slide, slide, again. She declined Captain Waring’s eagerly tendered arm—support was twice as irksome as walking. Would this detestable road never, never, come to an end?
Ah, there were the pine trees of Shirani at last! In another twenty minutes, they were among them. As the little party debouched into the mall, Mrs. Brande heading the procession, Honor bringing up the rear, with Captain Waring leading her pony, they came face to face with Mrs. Langrishe, walking with her most stately air, between a soldierly looking man and a small, beautifully dressed, fair-haired girl.
Yes, she could not have failed to notice and take in the full significance of Mrs. Brande’s rentrée (indeed she and her rival had exchanged bows), and dusty, hot, and thirsty, as that lady was, this was one of the happiest and proudest moments of her life!
CHAPTER XVI.
A MESSAGE FROM MISS PASKE.
Although she had only caught a fleeting vision of Mrs. Brande’s niece, Mrs. Langrishe had sharp eyes, and one glance had been sufficient to assure her that the girl was not the least like what she had expected. She was slim and dark, and, though covered with dust, and wearing a frightful one rupee topee, undeniably a lady, and not at all of the dairymaid type.
And how exultant the old woman had looked! Literally puffed out with pride, as she was carried past, with the millionaire in close attendance. Not that that detail was of the slightest consequence. Lalla knew him intimately, and she would get her to write him a nice, friendly little note, and ask him to drop in to tea.
Meanwhile Honor had been presented to her uncle, who, far from being disappointed, was agreeably surprised to find that she was the image of his favourite sister Hester, who had died when she was eighteen. This resemblance (which he kept to himself) ensured the new arrival an immediate entrée to her uncle’s good graces. And Mrs. Brande, accustomed to his cool and rather cynical manner, was amazed at the warmth of the reception he accorded to his hitherto unknown niece.
For several days the young lady was kept at home in strict seclusion, until her complexion had recovered the journey and her boxes had arrived from the railway. Her aunt was determined not to submit her treasure to the fierce gaze which beats upon a newly arrived girl, until she was altogether at her best. She, however, could not close her doors to numerous ladies who came to call upon Miss Gordon, and thus secure an early and private view. Honor was compelled to sit in state in a hideous drawing-room, where every colour was shouting at another, and listen to her aunt telling visitors how beautifully she played the fiddle, and what long hair she had, and how she took threes in shoes, and how useful she was in the house already. Also, she did not spare them full particulars of the buffalo adventure, nor fail to sing loud praises of Mr. Jervis, or to enlarge on his cousin’s agreeable escort and particular attentions en route. Then Mrs. Brande discussed her servants and the outrageous price of ghee and charcoal.
“Come, let us sit in the verandah,” whispered Mrs. Sladen, who had read the girl’s expressive face. “You will get quite used to it,” she continued, when they were outside; “you will do it yourself some day. We all do; but you will have a very happy home here, in spite of the price of potatoes! Your aunt is delighted with you, as you may see, and you will soon have plenty of topics to discuss. She has been lonely enough till now. She and Mr. Brande, although much attached to one another, have few tastes in common. He is fond of literature, and devoted to tennis and rackets; and although he is older, he is so active that he seems years her junior. Your coming has given her a fresh start and new pleasures. She is a dear, good woman, and as single-hearted as a little child.”