“I feel sure that I shall like it; I have always longed to see the East.”
“Ah, that is a common wish—the sun rises in the East! We Germans like the East—the East likes us. We own Burma!”
After a moment’s pause, which gave his companion time to digest this surprising statement, he went on, “Have you ever seen Herr Krauss?”
“No! when my aunt came home he always went to Germany—to Frankfort, I think.”
“So his acquaintance has yet to be made; it is what you call a pleasure in store. I wonder what you will think of the unknown uncle; perhaps some day you will tell me?” Then he gave an odd laugh and walked away, still laughing.
Bernhard’s place was speedily filled by another man. Most people considered Miss Leigh the beauty of the ship, but this novel and agreeable prominence had not spoiled her and she was always ready to oblige—to accompany a song, amuse the children, pick up and rectify a piece of knitting, promenade the deck, play quoits, or dance.
The various other girls on board, with whom she was popular, had assured her of the joys awaiting her and them in Rangoon. Dances, picknics, concerts, paper-chases—in short, no end of gaiety—all to be enjoyed in that yet unknown and romantic country, “the Land of the Golden Umbrella.” Often the girls sat in one another’s cabins, discussed and described frocks and beautiful toilettes, at present unseen and packed away in the baggage-room. Also they talked over their fellow-passengers—not forgetting the young men—and when Shafto’s name was mentioned, an occasional sly glance or hint would be thrown at Sophy, of which she endeavoured to appear serenely unconscious.
Early one morning the passengers awoke to find themselves at anchor in Colombo harbour, and the soft warm air brought them a delicious whiff of the celebrated cinnamon gardens. Many were landing for Southern India and a quantity of cargo had to be discharged. As this was bound to be a lengthy process, the remnant who were bound for Rangoon had nearly a whole day ashore. Mrs. Milward and maid, and her young friends Miss Leigh and Mr. Shafto, Herr Bernhard, the Pomeroys, Mrs. Lacy and several of her satellites, breakfasted at the Galle Face Hotel, and subsequently made trips in rickshaws, shopped in the bazaar, and had afternoon tea at Mount Lavinia.
It was, as everyone agreed, a most delightful break. On that same evening, as they steamed out into the moonlit Bay of Bengal, Sophy and Shafto paced the half-deserted deck, gazing on the Southern Cross, and the former suddenly said: