“Ah, you may say—papa; but you have got me into a terrible muddle, and now you must help to get me out of it. I must not have this fellow offended. Confound the insolent scoundrel! Just like the savage. He learns to wear English clothes, and then thinks he is a gentleman, and insults us with this proposal.”
“Yes; insults us papa: that is the word!” cried Helen, with spirit.
“Well, time’s flying, and he is waiting, so go and see him at once, and get it over.”
“But I tell you, papa, I cannot. It is impossible!”
“Why, you were talking to him for long enough last night in the drawing-room. Now, come, Helen, don’t be ridiculous, but go and do as I tell you; and the sooner it is done the better.”
Helen Perowne pressed her lips tightly together, and a look came into her face that betokened obstinate determination of the straightest kind.
“Papa, you make matters worse,” she cried, “by proposing such a degrading task to me. This man is, as you say, little better than a savage. His proposal is an insult, and yet you wish me to go and see him. It is impossible!”
“Don’t I tell you that I have business arrangements with the fellow, and that I can’t afford to lose his custom? And don’t I tell you that, situated as we are here amongst these people, it is not wise to make them our enemies. I don’t want you to snub him. It is only for prudential reasons. Now, come; get it over.”
“I cannot see him! I will not see him!” cried Helen, passionately; and she turned pale now at the idea of encountering the passionate young Malay. For the moment she bitterly regretted her folly, though the chances are that if circumstances tended in that direction she would have behaved again in precisely the same way.
“Now look here, Nelly,” said Mr Perowne, “you must see him!”