Fred Sutherland (to give him his right name) then explained his strange conduct. He had been obliged to leave his regiment, and had, as they knew, gone to the Cape. Here he fell in with an old school-fellow who was going to the diamond fields. They joined forces, bought a claim for a mere song, and set to work. To the surprise of the whole camp they were successful. In the claim, which had been abandoned months before as "no go," they came upon one of the largest stones that had ever been turned up in South Africa.
Fred Sutherland turned his share into cash directly and started for home. "I'm quite a millionaire, I assure you," cried the footman, slapping his plush breeches.
It looked so impudent and familiar of him to be sitting among us dressed like that, that his aunt could not bear it.
"Do go and take off those dreadful clothes," she said; "I can't think what made you do such a thing."
"I haven't done it in vain; I've learned what I wanted to know," he said, with a light laugh and a look at Mysie and Colonel Witherington.
A wave of depression came over me. Of course he was in love with his cousin and came to see how the land lay.
Poor fellow! Still, he seemed to bear up.
He turned towards me as if expecting an introduction. He did not show the slightest sign of ever having met me before. I never was so puzzled in my life. What ought I to do?
"This is my school-fellow—Miss Cornwall—but she will prefer to make your acquaintance in other attire; won't you, Lofty?"
"I have done so before," said I, summoning up courage and holding out my hand. "We travelled together from Euston."