"She is the wife of an official, and falls to my lot generally. I
escaped her to-night. See, my uncle is smiling; he knows why I
lingered; he excuses me, of course. You are my apology."
"I must take Major Fairfax's part," said the Indian Governor: "he may be
late for dinner, General, but he is always first in the field, you
know."
"And the last," replied Sir Adrian, laughing; "you see I have the best
of the argument after all. Fairfax, the soup will be cold."
Everything that passed at the dinner-table on that memorable day is
noted in my diary. I have not looked over it for three years. I need
scarcely do so now; for, as I write, the tide of memory swells high, and
trifles rise to the surface.
There was a ball that evening at Government House. Sir Adrian brought
the young sailor-Prince to me. Clarence Fairfax stepped aside with a
look of despair, which I took to be real. The first dance over, he came
to claim me in right of "cousinship," he said. His countenance was
radiant with smiles as he led me away. We whirled off in a valse,
talking gaily all the time; he looking down into my eyes, and I
forgetful of the crowd around me, till I heard some one remark, "What a
perfect dancer! so airy--so unstudied!" "A relation of Lady
Amabel's?"--"Yes." "From England?"--"Oh, no!--an officer's daughter."
"Not pretty, is she?"--"Rather." "Good gracious, do you think
so?"--"Interesting--Fairfax is taken." Giddy with the exercise, I
stopped unwittingly close to the speakers--two or three showy girls and
their partners. The band changed the air to a rapid measure, and I was
again borne off as on wings. Breathless and exhilarated, we reached the
door of an ante-room; Clarence thought it was unoccupied, and led me in.
Ah, conscience! The bloom of a youthful heart once touched, it sees
evil in what it once deemed innocent!
I was accustomed to dance, to valse, to be associated occasionally with
gentlemen, so why did my heart bound as I met my father and Lady
Amabel?--and why was it relieved on seeing them pass by with only a
smile of pleased recognition?
The Governor from India fell into conversation at the doorway; Lady
Amabel looked back, and said, "Take care, Clarence, of the draught from
that window;" and left us sitting on a couch alone. Her shawl was
thrown across it. Fairfax drew it round me.
I had been prepared to admire this gallant young soldier--"first and
last in battle." He had lately been wounded in a pirate fight while
cruising with naval friends off the western coast of Africa; his sleeve,
open from the wrist to the shoulder, showed that his sword-arm had been
disabled. It was a stirring tale--a young captain struck down; the next
in command weakened by fever; the ships lashed yard-arm and yard-arm; a
swarm of frantic beings, who knew that to yield was to die; and a band
of British sailors with a boy lieutenant at their head.
The rover's crew cheered the boarders as they advanced, the boy
lieutenant fell, but Clarence sprang into his place, and led the sailors
on. He had observed the battened hatchways, had heard the yells of the
miserable captives in the forecastle of the brig, and whilst the battle
raged, had directed the carpenter how to release the crowd of victims.
His coolness turned the fortune of the day; the hatchway burst open, the
wretched slaves, emaciated, starving as they were, mingled with the
English crew, and, elated with, the hope of liberty, sprang upon the
pirates, and cast them into the sea. The victory was decided in a
moment. Clarence Fairfax shared the honours of the day, and gave his
prize-money to the rescued slaves.
I begged him to tell me this tale himself. He did so, with apparent
reluctance; but the relation dazzled and enchanted me. I was bewildered
with his beauty, his air, his charmed words.
While thus happily engaged, he talking and I listening, the servants
entered, and throwing open a large window, an exquisite _coup-d'oeil_
was presented. A marquee, lined with brilliant flags, and lighted with
transparent lamps, stretched away into the spacious gardens. Tables
were scattered about covered with refreshments, all arranged with
exquisite taste; tropical fruits and flowers decorating the feast in
elegant profusion and variety. He started up. "I am forgetting my
duty," said he, "in lingering so pleasantly with you. Ah! here comes
your father. See, he is following Sir Adrian and Lady Westerhaven, and
is escorting the official lady who always falls to my lot. You have yet
to learn, you sweet innocent lily of the desert, that the conventional
forms of colonial society are even more absurd than those of England.
Ah, thank heaven! your father has passed us by."
But he was mistaken; the showy, shining woman leaning on my father, who
had been darting keen and earnest glances into every corner of the room,
suddenly exclaimed, with a touch of bitterness I could not then
understand, "Now, Mr Daveney, who would have thought to have found your
daughter here? Quite safe, you see; but shy, very shy, on this her
first appearance in public--thank you; but I believe it will be
etiquette to resign your arm. Captain Fairfax, it may not be your
_pleasure_, but I believe it is your _duty_, to take me to the
supper-room to-night."
He looked at me, at this remark, and smiled; but evidently feared the
scrutiny of the lady, for he assumed a demure look, which, in spite of
my vexation, made me laugh, as he led the offended one to the marquee.
I followed with my father, who expressed his uneasiness at my long
absence from the ball-room. I dare say some fathers would have been
angry; but he had been so long a stranger to the "conventionalities," as
Clarence called the forms of society, that he did not see any
impropriety in my lingering with my partner in an empty ante-room, and
only feared I might have felt overcome with the heat and the crowd.
How often men strive to argue women out of a due observation of
"conventionalities" which militate against their schemes, and next
contemn their victims for ignoring what they, the men, have taught them
to despise!
I think I see that bold, bad woman, Mrs Rashleigh, now. Her black eyes
and hair contrasted strongly with her brilliant cheeks and lips. Beside
me, she was tall, and as she looked down upon me, she seemed to sneer.
Jewels glittered on her unveiled bosom, her handsome hands and arms were
covered with ornaments, a tiara of diamonds crowned her brow, from which
the hair was widely parted, giving her face an unwomanly look; her voice
was loud and dauntless, her laugh rung unpleasantly upon the ear.
And yet this bold, meretricious woman evidently held sway over the young
and graceful aide-de-camp on whose arm she rested, looking into his eyes
with that audacious stare, from which some men,--you, for instance,--
would shrink.
Mrs Rashleigh was evidently rallying him about me. Then Lady Amabel
came up to her. What a contrast between the two,--Lady Amabel was fair,
gentle, feminine, and not what the world calls clever; but the pure mind
shone out of her soft eyes, and made her low voice musical. She said
something civil to her guest, and took my father and myself away with
her to a little room, where a few choice friends were gathered round Sir
Adrian.
I saw no more of Clarence that night, but retired to my bed to dream of
fairy halls, and diamond palaces, and enchanted princes; and throughout
the dream there hung about me an odious female genius, whose wand turned
all I touched to ashes. I awoke, terrified at the thunder she had
invoked upon _my_ head in her jealous anger. I could not help laughing,
as, in the bad fairy's thunder, I recognised the parting salute of the
young foreign sailor-Prince.
I descended next morning, listless, unrested. Sir Adrian, my father,
and Clarence Fairfax, were at the breakfast-table, and an aide-de-camp
came in at an opposite door, as I entered. Lady Amabel was in her room.
I took my seat by my father. The usual salutations passed; Clarence
recognised me by one of his brilliant smiles.
"Oh! Miss Daveney," observed Sir Adrian, "you were the envy of all the
women last night."
The colour rushed into my face.
"Why so, sir?" I asked.
"You monopolised the young Prince for the first dance. Mrs
Vanderlacken expected to be taken out."
"And," remarked Captain W, the other aide-de-camp, "Mrs Rashleigh was
taken in; for she has established Fairfax as her _cavalier servant_, and
he hung back last night."
Involuntarily I looked at Clarence.
"Ah!" remarked Sir Adrian, who was a thorough man of the world, "she is
a little too old for you, Fairfax; she owns to three-and-thirty."
"I thought," said I, surprised into volunteering a remark, "that Mrs
Rashleigh's husband was alive."
They burst into a fit of laughter at my _naivete_.
I believe my father had every hope, from my innocence of character, that
my _sejour_ at Cape Town would do me no harm. Lady Amabel was, as he
knew, one of the most amiable of human beings; it was you who remarked
that my father is one who has "made the most of human experiences, but
is unlearned in those of society;" thus, he had been accustomed to see
me associated with those young men who visited at our house whenever a
commando brought them near Annerley; but society gathered within the
home circle is widely different from that of a gay official residence,
especially where the host is a man of the world, and the hostess facile,
attractive, and unused to exercise her judgment.
My father returned home, and I was left especially under Lady Amabel's
care. I spent my mornings with her. At luncheon the arrangements were
made for riding or driving in the afternoon.
Clarence Fairfax trained a beautiful Arab of Sir Adrian's for me; it was
he who taught me to ride!
You have been at Cape Town. Do you recollect that dusty road to
Newlands, and the delicious change from that space to those long
avenues,--those shady aisles?
It seems but yesterday that Clarence and I were sauntering there--he
with his hand upon my rein, laughing at my conscious dread of Lady
Amabel's displeasure at our lingering, while the General and herself
were far ahead, fading in the vista.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
We spent the summer months at Newlands. Do you remember one of those
shaded paths between the quince and pomegranate hedges? the tall
mountain rising like a giant between the sun and this quiet retreat.
Here Lady Amabel and I used to bring our work, and sketch-books; and
here Sir Adrian protested he always found Fairfax half an hour after the
horses were ordered for the business visit to the town. The General
complained that his aide-de-camp was more idle than ever; and Lady
Amabel would shake her head at me, and then at Clarence, with a gentle
smile of deprecation at us all.
She had set her heart upon marrying me to Clarence Fairfax. She did not
tell me so, but I discovered it, albeit her tact veiled her intentions
from all but one besides myself. This was not Clarence; it was Mrs
Rashleigh.
The moment Lady Amabel had formed this "pretty plus," as she afterwards
called it, she did just what a woman of refined mind would do. She took
care, lest the world should sully my fair name with the breath of
scandal. Had she been a manoeuvrer, she could not have done more to
draw Clarence nearer to me. She kept me more by her side than she had
done; she drew back when we sauntered in the ride; she made excuses to
separate us if we sat too long together; and, in short, often disturbed
Clarence's equanimity. He was of a passionate temper, though not rough
in disposition; but I had never seen his disposition tried in
essentials. I had yet to discover in him the foundation of
selfishness--vanity. Ah! why am I anticipating? Major Frankfort, I did
not anticipate or reason, while writing the first pages of the journal
to which I have to refer in addressing this hurried scrawl to you.
Not far from the house at Newlands is a beautiful grove. You approach
it by a labyrinth of lemon glades and silver trees--you remember those
silver trees, always whispering on the scented air that pervades those
Arcadian woods. The grove crowns a natural mound within a miniature
forest, a clear stream ripples below, and falls musically over the
rocks, making a natural cascade. In the hottest days of December a soft
breeze murmurs through this grove, and stirs this shining stream. Lady
Amabel would retire here with me in the blazing hours of noon, and
Clarence would follow us, with servants bearing baskets of fruit and the
light wines of Constantia.
Lady Amabel was always happy with us in this lovely spot. Clarence and
I named it the Fountain of Nigeria; he had been there, and said it
resembled it. I think I hear Lady Amabel's gentle laugh at my unsteady
steps in descending, assisted by her nephew, to cool the wine in the
stream, and gather lemon and pomegranate blossoms to decorate the sylvan
feast; and then my frightened air at being left below, unable to return
without his help, which he so loved to give! I recollect one day a
large party "tracking us out," as Clarence said, and Lady Amabel's
vexation at our nook being invaded. She was the _chaperone_ again, and
drew my arm under hers at once.
We could hear the voices of the party before they reached us. I
recognised one, Mrs Rashleigh's; she was in advance of all, dressed
with extravagant taste, painted, veiled, and redolent of perfumes.
There was the old bitter tone in her mode of rallying "Fairfax," on
being "_Lady Amabel's aide-de-camp_;" and, having paid her compliments
with what I thought an impertinent air, she led off Clarence. I could
see them strolling together between the tall pomegranate hedges. Unlike
the conversations between Clarence and myself, it seemed that she was
the talker, and he the listener; for the sun falling where they stopped
for many minutes in the walk, I could distinctly perceive her gestures,
while he appeared silent and grave.
But, while remarking this curious proceeding, I heard a young Dutch lady
say to another, "Mrs Rashleigh and Captain Fairfax are quarrelling--did
you hear that she was enraged with him at the last ball?"
"Oh, yes; and they say he has not been at her house since the Governor
has been at Newlands--hush!"
They discovered I was near them, and were silent.
I heard remarks of the same nature from others of the party; but Lady
Amabel was engaged with a group of children round the fruit-table. She
had released me from her kind _surveillance_ on seeing Mrs Rashleigh
lead off her nephew. She had only designated Clarence as "her nephew"
since my advent at Government House.
I fear you may think these puerilities, dear Major Frankfort. I will
turn over three or four leaves of this childish journal.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
One day, Lady Amabel was slightly indisposed; I carried my work-frame to
her morning-room. The General and all his staff had ridden to Cape Town
to meet some foreign official. She begged me to take my walk in the
grounds, and I left her.
It was one of those dreamy days, such as we have lately had here. The
birds and insects dropped their wings in the boughs. I hastened through
the pathways, glowing with the sun, and sought the "Grove of Egeria." I
went, singing to myself that pretty bit of Handel,
"Where'er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade;
Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade."
It was in harmony with the scene--all was calm--the glare of the heavens
could not penetrate there--and I sauntered leisurely on, enjoying the
solitude, and sat down beneath the branches of a noble plane-tree.
Suddenly I heard a sound of horses' feet; I thought it was some one
passing along the high road hidden by the plantations; the sound drew
nearer; I looked through a long green vista--it was Clarence Fairfax,
followed by his groom; he looked up as he approached. I was standing in
a natural arch, with the light streaming down through an opening above.
I never thought of drawing back, as I ought to have done, for Lady
Amabel would have objected to our meeting in this retired spot.
Clarence saw me, waved his forage-cap, and, springing from his horse,
threw the reins to the groom.
He was in the grove in an instant, and at my feet, as I reclined,
trembling with emotion, under the plane-tree boughs.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ah! Major Frankfort, had you heard his gentle words, his expressions of
pleasure at meeting me alone--the contrasts he drew between other girls
and me; had you seen his smile, as he held my hand in his, and looked
upon me!--you would not have doubted that he loved me.
But he terrified me by desiring--ah! he was very imperative--that I
would say nothing to Lady Amabel of this meeting.
I would have retreated from the grove, but he seized me by the hand, and
entreated me to listen to his reasons for _delay_.
Woe is me! I did listen to this once--_only this once_.
One might write volumes on such a text; but I was firm in not consenting
to another meeting. I had been brought up in the few of doing wrong.
I trembled when I met Lady Amabel in the hall; she was tying on her
bonnet, and coming to meet me.
"Did you see Clarence?" she asked; "his horses have just gone round to
the stable."
Before I could reply, I heard the tread of a spurred and booted heel
upon the threshold of the hall-door; Lady Amabel took it for granted
Clarence had just dismounted, for she inquired if the General and
Captain Walton were following him.
No; Clarence had left them "up to their knees in foolscap" in a
government office.