It was not a minute that he stood before her, only while he said this: but, strange to say, something in his face or voice struck upon my memory. The face, as much as could be seen of it for hair, seemed familiar to me—just as madame’s had seemed.
“Who is he?” I whispered to her, following him with my eyes.
“Yes, I heard the name. But—do you know anything of him?—who he is?”
She shook her head. “Not much; nothing of my own knowledge. He is in an Indian regiment, and is home on sick leave.”
“I wonder which regiment it is? One of our fellows at Dr. Frost’s got appointed to one in Madras, I remember.”
“The 30th Bengal Cavalry, is Captain Collinson’s. By his conversation, he appears to have spent nearly the whole of his life in India. It is said he is of good family, and has a snug private fortune. I don’t know any more about him than that,” concluded Madame St. Vincent, as she once more rose to go to Lady Jenkins.
“He may have a snug private fortune, and he may have family, but I do not like him,” put in Charlotte Knox, in her decisive manner.
“Neither do I, Lotty,” added Dan—who was then at the tea-table: and his tone was just as emphatic as Charlotte’s.
He had come up for a cup of tea for Mina. Before he could carry it to her, Captain Collinson had taken up the place he had occupied at Mina’s elbow, and was whispering to her in a most impressive manner. Mina seemed all in a flutter—and there was certainly no further room for Dan.