“I was adopted by an uncle, and lived in London most of my time.”
“Ah, I understand; and came out to visit your father.”
“Yes, partly; indeed, I may say chiefly.”
“And have thrown in your lot with him. Mr. Jervis, I honour you for it.” Mark looked uncomfortable, and his companion added, “This life must be a great change, indeed, as it were another form of existence, to you; you must not let yourself stagnate now you have set your house in order, but come among us when you can. There are Bray and Van Zee, the two nearest planters to you, both good fellows. You have a much nearer neighbour, that you will never see.”
“Indeed, I am sorry to hear that. May I ask why?”
“It is one who shrinks from encountering Europeans, even holds aloof from me. Though we work in the same field, we have rarely met.”
Mark would have liked to have gleaned more particulars, but the burly American missionary was not disposed to be communicative, and all he could gather about his mysterious neighbour was, that the individual was not a European, not a heathen, and not young.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
A FRIENDLY VISIT.
Captain Waring had departed for England without ceremony or beat of drum (leaving his debts behind him), also presumably his cousin, who had not had the common decency to leave P. P. C. cards—no, not even on the mess or the club—and who had treated poor Honor Gordon shamefully; indeed, several matrons agreed that in the good old days such a man would certainly have been shot or horsewhipped!
How Colonel Sladen had chuckled, surmised, and slandered, had bemoaned the girl’s lost good looks, and her aunt’s idiotcy to all comers, as he waited impatiently for his afternoon rubber! Next to his whist, the relaxation he most thoroughly enjoyed was a bonâ fide ill-natured gossip, with a sauce in the form of sharp and well-spiced details.