Edward van Rheijn, the probationary-controller, was not of so yielding a nature, lukewarmness was not one of his faults. He was, indeed, as yet too young to have acquired Verstork’s circumspection and prudence; but in the office of Mr. van Gulpendam, under whose immediate orders he had been placed, he was in a terrible school and he had every opportunity to become, according to the latter’s favourite expression, “a thoroughly useful and efficient Indian functionary.”
These three men, then, were friends in every sense of the word, and they never neglected a single opportunity of enjoying each other’s society. Charles and Edward had, of course, constant chances of meeting since they both lived at Santjoemeh. They might, indeed be called inseparables. It was not so, however, with Verstork, whose station, the dessa Banjoe Pahit was quite twelve miles from the Residence; and for whom, therefore, there could be no question of daily intercourse with his two friends. Every Saturday afternoon when his work was over and he had closed his office, he used to jump on his horse and ride off at full speed to Santjoemeh where he was wont to lodge with one of his friends. The Saturday evening he used to spend at the “Harmonie” and listen to the excellent music of the militia band. On Sunday he was accustomed to pay some visits, and, of course, to call upon his chief officer, the Resident, and on Monday morning he was off again before daylight so as to be able to take his bath and have his breakfast and to be in his office punctually at nine o’clock. The two inseparables generally accompanied him wherever they could, but the Sunday evenings were specially devoted to friendly intercourse and conversation. These they invariably used to spend together either at van Nerekool’s house or at van Rheijn’s.
On one of these occasions, Charles had told his friends how that, on one of his visits to the van Gulpendams he had been introduced to the Resident’s daughter Anna, how he had cultivated that young lady’s acquaintance whenever he had met her at the “Harmonie,” at evening parties, or at the Residence itself; and he further confessed that Miss Anna van Gulpendam appeared to him the most amiable and accomplished girl he had ever in his life had the pleasure of meeting.
“Indeed,” he had continued to say, “I do not exactly know what my sentiments are. Is it a mere friendly feeling towards a pretty and accomplished child, or is it perhaps love which is beginning to nestle in my heart? I am so utterly inexperienced in such matters that I cannot tell; all I know is that I am never so happy as when I am in her company.”
“And you manage to be so pretty frequently?” said van Rheijn with a malicious smile. “For some time,” he continued to Verstork, “friend Charles has been away from home almost constantly. I really see very little of him, he is out almost every evening, and then you are sure to find him wherever Miss Anna and her parents happen to be, or else at the Residence whether it happens to be a reception night or not. You know I am half beginning to suspect him of taking a hand at the Residential card-table. I have several times strolled round the house trying to find out something; but the place is so closely hedged in by flowers and shrubs, that my curiosity has never once been rewarded and I have not been able to get at the secret at all.”
William Verstork shook his head doubtfully at this communication, “Is there any truth in all that?” he asked, as he steadfastly kept his eye on van Nerekool.
“Oh yes,” said the latter without the least hesitation, “but yet—”
“It is a very sad thing,” said Verstork, interrupting him.
“A sad thing?” asked Charles, somewhat hastily, “what do you mean? you won’t allow me to finish what I have to say.”
“Very well,” said Verstork, “say on.”