Motherless from his birth, an orphan before he had reached the age of four years, the almost neglected child was placed by his grandfather at a preparatory school for little boys. From this he passed to Eton, and after studying at the Woolwich Academy entered the Guards, and at the age of twenty-four obtained his company.
At Woolwich he had formed an acquaintance with Charles Herbert, and this young officer before starting for Canada had said to his mother—
"Mother, I wish you would look after that easy-going young fellow Fraser, he's got more money than he knows what to do with, and the sooner he finds a wife the better, or he'll get fleeced and no mistake."
Mrs. Herbert remembered this request of her son's, and while in Park Lane she encouraged the young officer to make their house his home.
This report of his wealth had already made him a welcome visitor at the houses of scheming mothers, and many well-born but worldly girls were ready to fall in love with his money and his possessions, while secretly despising the owner for the shyness and indifference with which he treated their advances to a better acquaintance. He had, however, been introduced to very few families when Mary Armstrong made her appearance at the house of his oldest friends, the Herberts, and it soon became evident to every one but the young lady herself, that Reginald Fraser, when he had summoned courage enough to do so, would offer himself and his possessions to Mary Armstrong.
Such indeed was his intention, or at least to make known his wishes to her father, when he left Park Lane on that July evening; but on reaching his quarters in St. James's Park, the official notice that his regiment was ordered to Windsor on the morrow upset all his plans.
Strange to say, he felt relieved at the thought of a few days' delay; he dreaded the ordeal, although he had for hours been screwing up his courage to make the venture, so painful to his natural shyness and reserve. A few days would not matter; perhaps it was best to leave Miss Armstrong to prepare the way for his visit by mentioning his name, and so on.
If Reginald Fraser could have foreseen what would happen during these few days he might have recalled the proverb, "Delays are dangerous," in time to escape a new and formidable difficulty.
Mary Armstrong had arranged to return home in time for the commencement of her brother's holidays. Not all the pleasant attractions in Park Lane could have induced her to allow the anxiety and care which their presence would cause, to devolve upon her mother.
For three days, however—days which afterwards were never forgotten, although their memory was rendered painful by contrast—Mary Armstrong enjoyed the loving society of her parents alone. After an early breakfast with her father, during the day till dinner she devoted herself entirely to her mother, relieving her as usual of all domestic supervision; sometimes walking with her, reading to her, or painting, while she worked and talked.