It was very beautiful in the gardens, and in spite of the number of
people present, the place was so large that Hilton had no difficulty in
finding a shady path in whose gloom he could walk up and down, finding
the silence and darkness congenial in his present state of mind.
Every here and there there were lanterns, and flashes of light came from
the illuminated lawn in company with the strains of music; but for the
greater part the light was that from the great soft stars in the
begemmed arch overhead, and the music that of the swift river rippling
against the bank.
What should he do? he asked himself. Would he not be acting a wiser and
a more manly part if he at once gave up his pursuit of Helen, and
treated her with the contempt she deserved?
For she did deserve contempt. He felt this, and he knew the state of
the warm affection he had had for her. He knew she had flirted a little
before, but he looked upon that as mere maiden trifling before she had
been ready to bestow upon him all the riches of her fresh young love.
He was ready to condone anything that had taken place before; but when,
after some long experience, he found that he was only being made the
plaything of the hour, and that she was ready to throw him over in
favour of the newest comer, his heart rebelled.
The fact was that Hilton was coming back to his normal senses very fast,
and the idol that he had been worshipping and accrediting with all the
perfections under the sun, was beginning to assume a very
matter-of-fact, worldly aspect in his eyes.
The chaplain, officer after officer on board ship, Chumbley, Mr Harley,
himself--they had all been favoured lovers in turn, and then thrown over
after a certain amount of trifling.
"I cannot think how I could have been so foolish!" he exclaimed,
suddenly; "and yet she is very beautiful--most beautiful; and when she
gives a fellow one of those tender, beseeching looks, he need be made of
iron to resist her."
He walked up and down a little longer, finished his cigar, lit another,
and went on, evidently feeling in better spirits.
"I shall get over it in a few days," he said, with a half laugh, "unless
I turn disappointed swain, and go and jump into the river. The
crocodiles would soon make short work of me. By jove! how beautiful
those fire-flies are!" he exclaimed.
Then he sighed, and went backward mentally.
"They put one in mind of Helen's beautiful eyes," he muttered.
Beautiful Helen! Bah! Stuff! I'll be fooled by no woman living!
"`Shall I, wasting in despair.
Die because a woman's fair?
Shall I pale
my cheeks with care
Because another's rosy are?'"
He sang softly, enjoying more and more the delicious coolness of the
breeze off the river.
"I'm nearly cured," he said, bitterly.
"`I know a maiden fair to see,
Take care!
She can both false and friendly be,
Beware! beware!
Trust her not,
She is fooling thee!'"
He sang again in a low voice.
"My case exactly. Oh! my dear madam. I'm afraid you will come to grief
one of these days, for it is not every fellow who will give you up as I
do, and hide his wound under a smiling face.
"And do I give her up?" he said, softly; and there was a tender, dreamy
look in his eyes as he spoke.
"Bah! what a madman I am!" he cried, with a mocking laugh; "she throws
me over as she has thrown over others. What an idiot I was not to see
all this sooner!
"The old story--the old story," he muttered. "Man's vanity and woman's
pride. I was conceited enough to think that, though she might trifle
with others, I was her one special choice. There was no such other man
upon the earth as I, Captain Hilton, the Apollo among his fellows.
Serve me right!" he cried passionately, "for a weak fool, and I deserve
it all, if only to be a lesson to bring me to my senses?"
Growing excited with his thoughts, he strolled down another path,
leading to the lower lawn which sloped to the river.
"I wonder who is with her now!" he muttered, as he gazed with lowering
brow at the smooth, star-spangled stream.
"What does it matter! I'll get a lesson in _nonchalance_ from old Chum!
I've been fooled like the rest. I might have known that I should be,
but I was conceited enough to think that I had thoroughly won her
heart."
He told himself that it was all over now, and smoked away viciously,
sending forth great puffs of vapour, still thinking of his position.
"What the dickens did that woman, the Inche Maida, mean!" he said,
suddenly, as he strolled now close beside the river in complete
forgetfulness of all the dangers with which it was invested by his
friends. "Why, if I were a conceited fellow--well, so I am, horribly,"
he said, bitterly--"I should have fancied that she was making love to
me. It is too ridiculous!" he exclaimed, stopping short, and seeing
nothing but introspectively, hearing nothing but the echoes of his own
thoughts. "This place is growing hateful to me. I shall get leave or
exchange. I feel as if I could not stay here any longer, and--Hah!
Help! What! Good Heav--"
The rest of Hilton's words did not reach the soft midnight air, for,
deep in thought, he had not seen the shadow even of the coming danger
which had fallen in an instant, and his mad struggles were proving all
in vain.