‘I suppose so, mamma.’
‘You will have to open the ball with Colonel Symonds, being the next gentleman in rank to the Governor on the island, and Sir Russell must lead out Mrs Symonds. It will be a magnificent sight, with all the officers in full uniform, and the military bands in the orchestra. The supper-tables are to be laid for three hundred, though I don’t know where they are all to come from; but Sir Russell is so generous. It will be the proudest day of my life—next to your wedding-day, Maraquita.’
‘I shall be very glad if you enjoy it, mamma.’
‘Come, come, my dear girl, I won’t have you speak of it in that uninterested tone, as if you were an old woman of eighty, past all thoughts of dancing and admiration. Why, there’s not a girl in the island that dances better than you do, Quita; and think how every eye will be fixed upon you, and how the women will envy your dress and your beautiful jewels, and wish they had your luck. Why, there’s not a girl in San Diego but would give her eyes to stand in your shoes.’
‘I daresay! but they pinch sometimes,’ said Quita, with a yawn.
‘My darling, all wives’ shoes pinch sometimes,’ replied her mother. ‘Marriage is not a bed of roses, any more than any other condition. But it is necessary to a woman’s well-doing, and you have drawn a splendid prize in the matrimonial lottery. And now what time will your ladyship please to drive this afternoon?’
Quita smiled. She liked to be called ‘your ladyship.’ If there was one thing above another that reconciled her to the step she had taken, it was to hear herself addressed by that much-coveted title. What children most women are, after all, and how easily caught with glittering baubles. Jewels and a title make up the sum total of domestic happiness for the majority of the sex. Maraquita believed herself to be wretched for the loss of Henri de Courcelles, but had she been put to the test, she would not have given up her newly-acquired dignity, nor one of her sets of ornaments, to bring him to her feet again. She would sit for hours with her jewel cases in her lap, fingering the bracelets, and rings, and necklaces that Sir Russell had given her, and holding up the blood-red rubies, and the grass-green emeralds, and the deep blue sapphires, and the pure white diamonds to the light, laughing to see them catch the sun’s rays, and shoot out a thousand little stars of fire to meet them. And as the day for the grand ball drew near, she seemed to recover her cheerfulness. Mrs Courtney was delighted to see the interest she suddenly evinced about her dress, and the ornaments she was to wear with it, and the manner in which she should arrange her hair; and when the evening arrived, she was as flushed with excitement, and as eager for the festivities to be a success, as any one could have wished to see her. It was a proud moment for Mr and Mrs Courtney when they stood by the side of the dais which had been erected for the convenience of the newly-married pair to receive their numerous guests. Sir Russell, in his Governor’s uniform, looked imposing if not handsome; and Maraquita, arrayed in her wedding garments, stood by his side like a dainty fairy. All San Diego—that is, all the respectable portion of it—passed before them in single file, to offer their congratulations before the ball commenced, and there was but one opinion of the appearance of the bride—that she was the handsomest woman on the island. Mr and Mrs Courtney swelled with pride as they overheard the various comments on her appearance, and felt rewarded at last for all the trouble and anxiety their wayward daughter had given them. The ballroom at Government House was a long apartment, with five or six windows on either side, all open on account of the heat. The spaces between these windows were hidden with trophies of flags, and flowers, so that it looked like a vast bower of leaves and blossoms, open at intervals to the outer air. Six large chandeliers pendant from the ceiling, and laden with wax candles, made the ballroom a blaze of light, and rendered it a conspicuous object from the outside. That the poorer part of the population should not consider themselves entirely shut out from the wedding festivities, Sir Russell had ordered a handsome display of fireworks to be sent up from the Fort at ten o’clock, and hundreds of coloured people were waiting around, in anticipation of the display. The supper, which had taken many days to prepare, was laid in another room on the same floor, on a series of tables, which were glittering with knives, and forks, and glass, and silver; and everything promised to go as merrily as the proverbial marriage bell. As soon as they had received their guests, Sir Russell and Lady Johnstone opened the ball with the two people of highest rank present, and dancing became general.
Maraquita, who was passionately fond of the exercise, did not miss a single turn. Her card was naturally soon filled up, for every man present tried to secure a waltz with the bride, and she flew all over the room like a beautiful Bacchante, flushed and smiling, whilst her parents looked on with admiring complacency, and one at least thanked Heaven secretly that the threatened danger was at an end, and her child had begun at last to properly appreciate the benefits of her high position. The evening had waxed towards midnight, and though the dancers gave no signs of fatigue, Sir Russell had just made his way towards Mr and Mrs Courtney to consult them whether it would not be wise to give the signal for supper, when a loud cry of alarm and sounds of confusion were heard to proceed from the apartment where it was laid. Sir Russell turned pale. He had heard something of the sort before, and guessed its import; but he had no time to communicate his fears to his friends, when a crowd of natives rushed into the room, armed with pistols and knives, and every open window was simultaneously blocked with dusky faces, ready to bar all egress, or to leap inside at a moment’s notice. The band stopped playing at once—the dancers screamed with alarm—all the men felt their hearts stop, and many of the women fainted without warning. But Sir Russell was English bred, and rose to the occasion at once. He looked almost majestic as he met the oncoming horde of mutineers with an uplifted hand, as though he challenged them to advance one step further, and demanded in a voice of thunder what they required in his private apartments.
‘Your life!’ shrieked one of the mob, ‘and de lives ob all dese d—d white trash. And we’ll hab them too! On wid you, darkies! Cut ’em down like de dogs what dey are.’
‘I’ll shoot the first man who tries to pass me!’ shouted Sir Russell, as he drew a revolver from his pocket; and then turning to his father-in-law, he exclaimed quickly,—‘Mrs Courtney—Maraquita, get them away, for God’s sake!’