I glanced at them, and saw they had been readdressed by Mrs. Lakin. The first I seized upon and opened was from Brian, which said:
“My darling Eva,—By bad luck I missed writing to you last week, but it happened to be the day of my father’s operation; my mother was dreadfully anxious and upset, and I forgot the Indian mail. My poor little girl, all this trouble about your brother has been a terrible affair for you, but I do not see why it should be the means of breaking off our engagement, nor will I ever consent to it. As Mrs. Falkland you will have done with the name and association of Lingard, and even if people remembered that your brother had been tried and convicted, instead of being censorious they would be sincerely sorry for you. I am, as you expected, also sorry for your brother. When I was out at Secunderabad I could not help seeing the way things were going, and once or twice I tried to give him a hint, but it was no use. I also had an idea of talking to you on the subject, but on second thoughts I decided it was better not to disturb you, and I did not expect matters would have come to a crisis so soon. I also consoled myself with the saying that ‘half the troubles in this world are those that never happen.’ This trouble unfortunately has come off! I think you are foolish in remaining out in India—whereabouts you do not say. Just at first I know that your brother will not be allowed to see a visitor, so your presence in the country won’t be much good to him. No doubt he will be promoted into a post where he need not mix with the worst class of criminals. I wish it were in my power to do something to alleviate his horrible condition, or to reduce the term, but no doubt his own conduct and character will effect that. My poor little girl, I cannot tell you how acutely I feel for you; I know that this trouble is heart-breaking. I will write next mail, and I implore you when you receive this to cable your address, and send me a letter to say that second thoughts are best, and you are returning home to
“Your always devoted,
“Brian.”
This letter I read over three times before I opened the next. It gave me courage and a momentary gleam of happiness; nevertheless, I was determined to remain in Bangalore and stick to Ronnie. Supposing I were to go home as Brian suggested, and abandon Ronnie to his fate; in spite of my fiancé’s comforting words I believed that all my acquaintances would look upon me coldly and obviously strive to keep the subjects of brothers, convicts and jail out of their conversation.
My next letter was from Aunt Mina:
“Dear Eva,—Your uncle has deputed me to answer your letter, and I commence it by saying that although we have a knave in the family, we see no reason to tolerate a fool. Your brother, who has blackened the Lingard name, disgraced us and you, is the knave, but you, who have rushed after him, leaving the shelter of your friends at Secunderabad, are acting like a fool. You must return home at once. Your uncle, who stands in the place of a parent to you, desires me to say that there is to be no question of this. We expect you to start within a week from the date on which you receive this letter. You will, of course, come to Torrington and make your home here. We understand that you have paid up the money of the canteen fund. Your uncle had intended to do this. He desires me to say that a cheque for your passage home will be lodged; you are to return by the P. & O., and will be met at Southampton. Should you refuse to obey, and set your face against our plans, the hundred a year allowance will cease; not only this, but your future proceedings will be of no further interest to this family and we shall look upon you as much dead to us as is your brother. I know you are always inclined to be headstrong, and to wild and impulsive actions, but on this occasion I sincerely hope your recent experience will have taught you humility and common sense. We are inclined to fear that you may have contributed to Ronnie’s disaster. A girl of your age, with no experience of India, possibly spent extravagantly and incurred large bills. Apparently it is only since you have lived with Ronnie that he has come to grief. Of course our conjectures may be mistaken—I am sure I hope so. This terrible family scandal has tried us greatly. The case was in every newspaper, with a portrait; and at present—speaking for myself—I do not care to go about and meet my neighbours. However, dear Mrs. Paget-Taylor is, as usual, a wonderful consoler and a tower of strength. By this day month, at the latest, we shall look for your arrival. I see that the Malwa sails on the 27th.
“Your affectionate aunt,
“Wilhelmina Lingard.”
I did not read this letter over three times, but giving way to one of my childish passions I tore it into little bits, and then, while the fit was still upon me, sat down and dashed off what I have no doubt was considered a most intemperate reply. I refused absolutely to return to England, and said that I was satisfied to take my place beside Ronnie and be repudiated by the family; their money I did not want—and I remained faithfully, Eva Lingard.
Thus I was now cut off from my few relations, and had, with my own hands, barred the doors of Torrington.