The Inche Maida turned her head just then in reply to some remark made
by Captain Hilton, and Chumbley took advantage thereof to whisper to his
companion:
"The Princess must have understood what we said. How provoking that I
should have uttered such a foolish remark! Why, I quite frightened
you!"
"I was a little alarmed," faltered Grey, who seemed agitated. "It
sounded so very dreadful, Mr Chumbley," she added, after a pause. "You
have always been so kind and gentlemanly to me, may I ask a favour?"
"To be sure," he replied.
She paused again, and he saw that she was growing more agitated, and
that she could hardly speak.
"I want you to promise me--"
Here she stopped again, and looked piteously in his face, her lips
refusing to frame the words she wished to say.
"You wish me to promise never to take notice of the secret you betrayed
just now, Miss Stuart?"
She nodded quickly, and her eyes sought his in a pleading way that set
him thinking of what her feelings must be for Hilton.
"Give me the credit of being a gentleman, Miss Stuart," he said, at
last, quietly.
"I do--I do!" she said, eagerly. "Indeed I do, Mr Chumbley!"
"I am an old friend of Captain Hilton. We knew one another when we were
quite lads, and I exchanged into this regiment so that we might be
together. He's a very good fellow, is Hilton, although he has grown so
hot-headed and liable to make mistakes. I like him for many reasons,
and I can't tell you how glad I am to have learned what I have to-day."
"Pray say no more, Mr Chumbley," said Grey, with a troubled look.
"But I shall say more, even at the risk of being considered rude,"
continued Chumbley. "He is making a great mistake, just as a great many
more men have made the same blunder."
Grey tried to speak, but the words would not come.
"He'll wake up some day," continued Chumbley. "At present his eyes are
dazzled."
"Mr Chumbley!" said Grey, in a low, earnest, appealing tone.
She only uttered the young officer's name, but the way in which it was
spoken sufficed, and he bowed his head in answer, and for the next few
minutes neither spoke.
"Miss Stuart, you may trust me," he said, at last.
"I do, Mr Chumbley," she replied, and a conscious feeling of pride and
satisfaction thrilled the young soldier, as he looked in the frank grey
eyes.
The conversation went buzzing on all around, nobody seeming to notice
him; and Chumbley began to commune with himself as he gazed straight
before him now.
"She's taken with Hilton," he said. "There's no mistake about it. Now,
why didn't the little maid take a fancy to me? She's very nice--very
nice indeed; and I think she would be as earnest and truthful as a woman
could be. Isn't my luck, though--no, not my luck.
"By Jove, what an idiot that Hilton is," he continued, as he glanced at
the young officer, who did not seem to be aware of the fact that anyone
was present but Helen, whose every look and gesture were watched with
rapt attention; while from time to time she seemed to rouse herself from
her languid indifferent way, and repay him with a smile.
It was rather a curious scene, and as she recovered from the agitation
consequent upon her little encounter with Chumbley, Grey Stuart read a
good deal of what was going on around.
It seemed to her that Helen Perowne, whom she had promised their old
instructresses to befriend and aid, was the principal object of
attraction to all. She felt no jealousy on this account, only a curious
sense of trouble. Her affection for Helen was as great as ever, but
always there seemed to be a gathering cloud of trouble right ahead, and
in an undefined way this seemed to gather and threaten them both.
Sometimes her eyes fell upon little Mrs Bolter, who appeared far from
enjoying the day, but to be ready at any moment to go in quest of the
doctor, who kept leaving his seat to chat with someone at another part.
There was always a smile for Grey though, whenever Mrs Bolter caught
her eye, and the exchange of glances seemed to comfort the little lady
for the time.
The next minute Grey would see that the Rajah was looking in Helen's
direction, and she trembled at the idea of further trouble arising; but
the Malay's thoughts were hidden beneath a set smile, which did duty on
all occasions now, and was bestowed upon Helen, upon the Princess, Mrs
Bolter, even upon the watcher in turn.
Then, as she saw how impressive were Captain Hilton's attentions, Grey
sighed softly, and in remembrance of what had been said at Mayleyfield,
she told herself that perhaps the best thing that could happen to Helen
would be for her to become the young officer's wife.
Just then Chumbley turned to her, and as if their conversation had had
no pause--
"Let me add this," he continued, "Hilton is one of the best fellows that
ever breathed, only he has gone a little wild over this affair."
"Pray say no more, Mr Chumbley," pleaded Grey.
"Why not?" said the other, quietly. "I thought we were to be friends,
Miss Stuart. Do you know I'm going to risk your displeasure by saying a
word on my friend's behalf?"
Grey tried to speak--to recover her usual calm self-possession, but her
words would not come.
"This is all nonsense, you know," continued Chumbley, "and I don't know
that I blame Hilton much. It's only natural, you know, and the poor
fellow's only like everyone else. They all get caught by the beauty
just the same as I was. You're not a man, you know, so you can't
understand it. Now, for instance, take me. I'm a great big fellow--a
sort of a small giant in my way--strong as a horse. I could take that
Rajah up by his neck and one leg, and pitch him out of window; but when
Helen Perowne came here, and gave me one of her looks, I was done, and
she led me about just as she pleased. Ah! there's a very comic side to
it all."
"But you soon broke your silken string, Mr Chumbley," said Grey, trying
to speak in his own bantering tone.
"Not really," he said confidentially. "The fact is, she broke it. I
couldn't have got away if I had not seen that she was only playing with
me. It was she who broke it by beginning to lead others on. I say,
Miss Stuart, what awful old women your schoolmistresses must have been!"
"Awful old women?" exclaimed Grey. "Yes, to bring up Miss Perowne as
such--a man-killer."
"Oh! Mr Chumbley," cried Grey, "the Miss Twettenhams were the
sweetest, most amiable of ladies, and Helen Perowne made them really
very anxious--"
She checked herself suddenly, as if annoyed at having spoken against her
friend, at whom she glanced now, to see that she seemed to be really the
queen of the feast.
"Yes," said Chumbley, drily, "you're right. They must have been nice
old ladies; but about Hilton," he continued. "You see it's like this; a
fellow gets caught before he knows where he is, and then he thinks he
has arrived at the happiest time of his life; then, a few days later, he
sees some other fellow coming to the happiest point of _his_ life; and
then, after a flush or two of fever, the first fellow begins to feel
much better. I say, Miss Stuart, I was awfully in love with Helen
Perowne."
"Yes, I think you were," she replied, with a sad little smile.
"Awfully," he said again. "It was all over with me. I fell in love in
five minutes, and I thought her quite a goddess; while now--"
"Yes," said Grey, smiling; and her face looked very bright and
ingenuous. "While now?"
"Well now--I don't," he said, slowly. "Master Hilton won't by-and-by.
I say, Miss Grey," he whispered, laughing merrily, "do you feel as if
you were going to die?"
"To die?" she said, opening her eyes very widely in her surprise; and as
they met those of Chumbley he could not help thinking what sweet,
earnest eyes they were.
"Just like those of that girl tying the handkerchief round the fellow's
arm in Millais' picture of _The Huguenot_," he said to himself. "Hah!
he'll be a lucky fellow who wins her for his own!"
"Yes," he said aloud, after a pause, during which he had looked so
earnestly at her that she had cast down her eyes and blushed; "yes, of
the poisoned cup. No; out here in this land of romance, and living as
we are amongst sultans, and princes, and slaves, just as if the Arabian
nights had been brought into private life--I ought to say poisoned
chalice or envenomed goblet, but I won't; I'll say cup, with a dose in
it. I say, Miss Stuart," he drawled, "it was too bad of you to be so
suspicious."
"Are you two lovers?" said a deep, rich voice, close by them; and they
both turned suddenly, to see that the Princess was watching them with a
peculiar smile upon her lip.
"Why do you ask that?" said Chumbley, laughing.
"Because you look like it," said the Princess. "I am glad: I like you
both. You are a very wise man," she added, tapping Chumbley on the
shoulder with her fan.
"As you are wrong about the engagement, my dear Princess," said
Chumbley, laughing, "so it is natural that you should be wrong about my
wisdom, for Miss Stuart and I are only the best of friends."
The Princess looked at him very sharply, and then turned her eyes upon
Grey Stuart, who, though her colour was slightly heightened, felt amused
at their host's frank, bold questioning, and met the Princess's eyes
with so ingenuous a look that the latter's suspicions were half
disarmed.
"Well," said the Inche Maida, smiling, "what do you say?"
"That Mr Chumbley is my very good friend; that is all."
"Well, I don't know," said the Princess, smiling. "I don't see why you
two should not be more than friends; and sometimes I feel half glad,
sometimes half sorry. What strange people you English are!"
She took Grey's hand and held it, patting it affectionately as she
spoke.
"Why are we so strange?" said Grey, smiling.
"Because it is your nature; you seem so cold and hard to touch, while a
spark will set us on fire. I thought when I went to your head chief,
Mr Harley, and told him and his officers of my troubles--how I, a weak
woman, was oppressed by cruel neighbours--that it would have been enough
to make him send fighting men to drive my enemies away. But no; it is
talk, talk, talk. You are cold and distant, and you love your friends!"
"But when we make friends we are very faithful and sincere," said Grey,
earnestly.
"Some of you, my child--some of you," said the Princess, nodding her
head, and looking intently at the fair, sweet face before her. "Some of
you can be very true and sincere as you call it; some of you I would not
trust. And you think," with a quick look of her dark eyes, "that you
could not trust some of us. Well, perhaps you are right; but we shall
see--we shall see."