The hot weather had arrived, the punctual brain-fever bird made his
unwelcome appearance, and a much-diminished company prepared to leave
Hooper's Gardens, for the Blue Mountains. Colonel Tallboys, who had
obtained sixty days' leave (with power to add to their number), his
wife, her niece, and child, Mrs. Villars, her maid, and Geoffrey
Mallender. Urgent private business connected with cotton, had summoned
unwilling Sir William to Bombay, and the Wylies were reluctantly
compelled to bring their long "week-end" to a close.
"Hooper's Hotel" was a hostelry entirely after their own hearts; a
gracious easy hostess, an admirably run establishment, capital ponies
to ride, gay entertainments, and lots of bridge. They were unaffectedly
sorry to part with "the management," and Mrs. Wylie threw out many
hints, as to how much she longed to visit the celebrated Neilgherries,
and talked wistfully of "the chance of a lifetime!" But for once, Fanny
Tallboys did not "rise." Then her guest--a woman of invincible nerve,
and resolution--came to her sitting-room one morning, and said, with
her most persuasive smile:
"Dearest and kindest of friends! I have a great, great, an enormous
favour to ask. Alas! our plans for Ceylon have fallen through. We
_were_ going to Newara Eliya to the Gordon Walkers, but I heard to-day,
that she is ill, and too indisposed to receive us. So will you, like
the angel you are, have us for a little, little, tiny visit in Ooty?
Darling Cecil wants a change from this steaming, relaxing place--I've
been quite anxious about him the last week, and you know our
_abhorrence_ of hotels, with their filthy rooms, and disgusting food."
Poor Mrs. Tallboys, feeling exceedingly guilty and uncomfortable, was
obliged to tell the piteous pleading lady, that she was really too
sorry, but that every corner in "Woodford" had its allotted tenant.
"Tents?" suggested the petitioner, with ruthless pertinacity. "I should
simply adore a tent!"
Unfortunately tents were out of the question at that season in the
Hills, and so this pair of clever "sponges" and adventurers were
compelled to seek for other quarters, and took their departure, with
perfunctory thanks, and an air of unpardonable injury; and it is a
regrettable fact, that they subsequently spoke of their hosts of
"Hooper's Gardens," with patronage and derision, as "those absurd
people, the Tallboys, and their dreadful menagerie!"
The weather had suddenly become several degrees warmer, and the party
travelled by night, arriving in the early morning at Mettapollium, not
far from the foot of the towering ghâts; here after _chotah-hazri_
they entered the mountain railway, that climbed, and wound, and
climbed again, till it dragged itself up to Coonoor--which seemed
to be awaiting it, as it lay hanging over the edge of the great
plateau--unquestionably one of the most wooded, beflowered, and
picturesque, Hill stations in Hindustan, and the home of not a few
retired Anglo-Indians. Here, the Tallboys decided to halt for a day or
two, whilst "Woodford" was prepared for their reception.
Instead of taking the mountain railway, Mrs. Brander had elected to
ride up the old ghât, on her big black waler, Bonny; and Mallender
promptly volunteered to be her escort. He liked Nancy, she was the
best of company, always so cheerful, good-natured, and ready to enjoy
everything that came in her way; one of those rare people, who go
through life with a happy and contented heart.
The heat, in the narrow gorge at the foot of the mountains, was
stifling; the very bananas and bamboos looked wilted, and faint. As
the pair rode between dense masses of acacia, babul trees, Palmyra
palms, and thickets of heavy jungle, their horses were bathed in sweat,
there seemed scarcely a breath of air; but by gradual degrees, as they
mounted the rocky old road with its endless twists, and sudden steep
ascents, the dank hot-house atmosphere fell away, and mile by mile they
ascended into another, and cooler, climate. The narrow bridle-path
lay through a primeval forest, carpeted in places with moss and
maiden-hair; here and there, the tree-trunks were hidden by gigantic
ferns, the sound of running water was never absent, crystal clear
streams splashed and tumbled and made tinkling music in the dim light,
as they hurried down the hill-side, through a tangle of rock, twisted
roots, and creepers. Meanwhile the riders breasted a precipitous road,
that carried them from the tropics to an English summer; heavily laden
coolies, donkeys carrying wood, and now and then a portly native on
a pony, were all they encountered as they proceeded, and fitfully
discussed the recent season, and its most interesting, or remarkable
events.
* * * * *
"Talking of events," said Mrs. Brander, "last evening, I saw Barbie
Miller driving with Colonel Harris in his Stanhope phaeton; he looked
as pleased as Punch, and she, as if she were on her way to execution; I
fancy that match is settled, and for once, Aunt Fanny had no finger in
the pie!"
"No, of course not," assented Mallender, but he said no more.--There
ensued a pause, lit by the memory of a girl, leaning against a tree
with a drawn, white face and dazed blue eyes, saying, "Oh, _you_ don't
know--you cannot understand!"
"You liked her, didn't you?" questioned his twenty-first cousin.
"Yes,--but I am sorry to say, Miss Miller does not like _me_. She has
wonderful pluck in the saddle, it's a pity she can't show some of it in
her own family."
"Ah, it is so easy for us to talk! You little know Mrs. Miller; a woman
as hard as the nether mill-stone, as pitiless as Fate, and she has a
strong backer in Mrs. Fiske. Poor Barbie has no chance against two such
allies."
"I don't see where Mrs. Fiske comes in?" argued Mallender.
"As adviser. Mrs. Miller was once upon a time her bridesmaid, and
although she publishes a striking and historical record of her
character, declares that her bridesmaid was a bully from her youth,
never would allow anyone near her to be happy, and adds, many later,
and more lurid particulars, yet they are close friends!"
"I can't stand Mrs. Fiske, and she always smiles--if you can call it a
smile! at me, and looks as if she knew a _lot_, and we had some guilty
secret between us!"
"I understand, and sympathise with your feelings respecting Mrs.
Fiske--I am with you there! She says such spiteful things to my face,
that they leave me beyond the power of a coherent retort. But why do
you say that Barbie dislikes you?"
"Because lately, she won't speak to me."
"Imagination! She has been flung so violently at men's heads, that
naturally she avoids them, for which, I confess I do not blame
her;--among women, she is different."
"And once upon a time she was different with _me_!--we were quite
chummy out hunting, or paper-chasing--she's a nailing good rider,--one
day, she got a nasty toss, and I took her home,--Lord, what a place!"
"I can imagine it."
"I doubt it! We found lots to say to one another, as we toiled along to
Vepery, afterwards too--at _chota-hazri's_, at the gardens; then all of
a sudden, the young lady dropped me like the traditional hot potato!"
Mrs. Brander burst into a ringing laugh, and again repeated,
"Imagination!"
"No," he replied with some heat. "The last couple of weeks, Miss Miller
avoided me on purpose,--you remember the finish at the paper-chase at
the Mount, and breakfast at the Artillery Mess, under the banyan tree?
When I spoke to her there, she just looked me straight between the
eyes, and administered the dead cut."
"I must say you amaze me! I can only suppose, that Mrs. Fiske has given
you a bad character."
"She knows nothing about me!"
"I would not be so sure. She knows all about _me_! my age, fortune,
where Tom proposed, how much I pay my dhobi, and which of my teeth are
stopped."
After a silence, during which they threaded their way among a horde of
heavily-laden pack ponies, charcoal burners, and coolies--almost bent
double under incredible loads of baggage--Mrs. Brander resumed:
"I'm so sorry for Barbie, her little white desperate face comes before
me, if only I could have done something to snatch her from Colonel
Harris, but Tom says, I'm always too ready to rush in, where angels,
etc., etc. Aunt Fan is an angel,--but even she is afraid of those two
women, that like the giants in the 'Pilgrim's Progress,' bar the road
to Barbie's liberty. Uncle Fred is fond of Barbie, she is his favourite
girl in all Madras, but he dare not interfere in other people's family
concerns. He, however, goes about, telling everyone that he and James
Harris are the same age!"
"Much good that will do Miss Miller!" scoffed her companion.
"Well, we are getting off our old bachelors. I suppose the next wedding
will be Sir William's--he is older than Uncle Fred."
"What Sir William?--Sir William Bream?"
"Yes, our very own Sir William, with his extraordinary and imposing
power of saying things, with nothing to say. Why do you look so
surprised?" and her gaze rested upon him with impressive steadiness.
"You don't mean that Mrs. Villars would marry him!"
"I refuse to commit myself, I don't mean to say anything, except that
Mrs. Villars will make a sensation in our Blue Mountains, and have a
good time. Who is so absolutely free, and independent, as a beautiful
rich young widow? at least, I hope she is rich----"
"Why do you hope that?"
But Nancy Brander touched her horse, and cantered on; she was not
disposed to tell tales, or to reply.
"Merely because she showed me a bill from a Paris house, for nine
hundred pounds, and assured me, that she had no more idea than my Mab,
how it was going to be paid! or where the money was to come from!"
By eleven o'clock the equestrians had arrived at Under Cliff Hotel,
Coonoor, and there found the remainder of the party, all comfortably
installed, sitting in the verandah, imbibing draughts of deliciously
cool air, and looking forward to a late, and solid, breakfast. The
early afternoon was abandoned to resting, unpacking, and novel-reading,
but about four o'clock the Tallboys and their guests reassembled for
tea.
Not a few acquaintances were "up," and passing through,--these included
Colonel Molyneux and Forbes, the great shikari. Mrs. Villars, who had
changed her travelling dress for a becoming toilet, was talking to
them, when Mallender joined her. She gave him a radiant smile--her
smile conveyed to many, the secret, that "you, and you _only_, are
my friend"; undoubtedly she had a wonderful charm--which is another
name for power--and in her delicate hand, it frequently proved an
irresistible weapon. At the moment, she was carrying on a bantering
conversation with the mighty hunter.
"You know perfectly well, that you hate all this," she said,
indicating the smart gay groups, who were scattered along the verandah,
drinking tea. "You prefer black coffee, and leathery chuppatties in the
jungle, you know you do!"
"Yes, I must confess that I enjoy the jungle," admitted Mr. Forbes,
who found it not unpleasant to be chaffed, and singled out, by this
beautiful creature in white serge, with the eyes of a fawn, and the
sun throwing glints on her wealth of red-brown hair. "But then, I'm a
semi-savage--and an old bachelor," he added boastfully.
"Worse--a woman-hater!"
"No, no, Mrs. Villars, but I admit that I would as soon look at a fine
pair of horns, as at a fine pair of eyes," and his glance was almost a
challenge!
"Really?" with a gay incredulous laugh. "What an odd taste! The only
horn that appeals to me, is a coach horn. Are you making any stay?"
"No, a couple of days, and then I'm off to the Anna-Mullays after a
bison. When I was at home, I got a letter from an old pal of mine, a
Kurumba shikari, and he told me of a remarkable, in fact, matchless
head."
"Still on the animal's shoulders?" she enquired airily.
"I hope so, I've come straight out to pot him."
"Rather a long aim!"
"Oh, I think nothing of that. I've gone to Arabia for lions, to Java
for a particular deer. My collection of heads is my hobby."
"One would think you were a Dyak!"
"_You_ need not reproach me, dear madam. What are my heads, to your
scalps?"
"I declare you are becoming quite agreeable and complimentary! but no
doubt you are in great spirits at the prospect of leaving us. You know,
you are longing for the solitude of the deep, hot, smelly jungle; once
there, _we_ cease to exist."
"I won't agree with that; but the jungle has its allurements, too."
Then suddenly turning to Mallender. "Think of the cool early mornings,
when the birds begin to stir, and the bamboos to whisper; oh, you
society fellows miss a lot! _You_ never see the dense, virgin forests,
peopled with half-tame animals, and impassable, except by game tracks."
He paused, and looked steadily before him, as if his eyes beheld some
rapturous vision.
Mrs. Villars now rose, carefully brushed the crumbs from her gown, and
said, in her soft drawling voice:
"There is quite a nice little jungle near this; I explored it this
morning. There are paths, and flowers--possibly, a stray animal or two.
I mean the garden. Come with me, Captain Mallender, and perhaps _I_
will whisper to you like the bamboos. At any rate, I can introduce you
to lovely views, a fountain, and a summer-house!"
Mallender promptly accepted the invitation, and as he descended the
steps, in the lady's wake, the old shikari looked after them, and
muttered half aloud, "_Got him!_"