How could it be, or why was it, that Jerry, so jolly and manly—the son of such a cold and feeble-minded woman of rank and fashion, who had done her best, but failed, to spoil or pamper him—was reserved for such a fate as this!
He had escaped the battle of Amoaful, the passage of the Prah, the fighting prior to the capture of Coomassie, and all the perils of death by fever and toil to perish thus, when the wretched end had been achieved and the troops must have been on their homeward way.
Poor Jerry! The life of the mess and the life of Wilmothurst when at home, where, in consideration of his five feet ten inches and irreproachable moustache, he had been latterly permitted to be termed a 'son,' and not, as his mother would have wished, a 'boy.'
Lady Julia Wilmot had never posed in society save as a beauty, and the great consideration that was ever shown her was due to that beauty and her birth and position as an earl's daughter; but not to any brilliant qualities of head—still less of amiability of heart. Thus in many ways she was a fair average example of 'the upper ten.'
So now it may be said of her and Cousin Emily on this disastrous occasion,
'Some natural tears they shed, but wip'd them soon.'
And their first thoughts were of a suitable and handsome tablet to Jerry's memory in the Vicarage Church, and of fashionable mourning for themselves and the household. It would all cast a gloom over their return to town after Easter in March, when a 'brief season' would commence—if they went to town at all, for 'thank Heaven,' added Lady Julia, 'no one shall accuse me of not doing my duty to my son. I shall order my mourning at Jay's, and certainly will not wear one of those frightful bonnets with long—what is it now, John?'
A tall footman, with a face of woe made up for the occasion, and a manner adapted to it—for the news had spread like wildfire over all the house and vicinity, and when many genuine tears were shed in the servants' hall, where Jerry was a prime favourite with the women folks—brought in a card, announcing
'Miss Chevenix.'
'Chevenix again—this is intolerable! Did you say not at home?'