THE INTRUDER
THE great Chamoli landslip thus fulfilled its threat; the long-expected
catastrophe had come, and gone. The lake had fallen five hundred feet
in two hours, and worked the anticipated havoc over a large tract of
country; enormous masses of trees and débris came down with the flood,
bridges were carried away, and also many miles of roads. Of three
native towns, and several villages, not a vestige remained. The passage
of so large a volume of water through one hundred and fifty miles of
valley, in the darkest hour of the night, unattended by the loss of a
single life, was attributed to the services rendered by the temporary
telegraph line, and the excellent work accomplished by Colonel
Gascoigne, who received the thanks and congratulations of the Viceroy.
The only individual who suffered personally from the effect of the
inundation was the once irresistible Lola Waldershare. For some months
after the disaster she remained with the Gascoignes, a helpless
imbecile, and ultimately returned to England under the charge of a
hospital nurse, a mental and physical wreck.
The general and Sir Capel left Garhwal with a revised opinion of
themselves, and other people. To the younger man, the trip afforded a
magnificent experience. He had been brought into touch with Nature at
her grandest, with human unselfishness, and heroic courage.
General Bothwell's nerves were shattered by his adventure during
the flood, and he who had come to crow departed, figuratively,
draggle-tailed and crestfallen. His carefully indited letters were
never despatched to the press, as his prognostications had been
stultified; and he returned to Chotah-Bilat in a condition of collapse,
a silent and much wiser man. Doubtless, by-and-by he will recover his
poise, and brag and bore and browbeat as mercilessly as ever.
Donald Gordon died suddenly of heat apoplexy in the Red Sea, and the
story of the loves of Shireen and Ferhad is lost to the reading world.
It is unlikely that his widow will marry—her life is dedicated to
others and to good works, and her self-imposed penance has apparently
no end. She is godmother to Angel's infant, and as she placed her in
the arms of Padre Eliot at the font pronounced her name to be Elinor.
Sam and John flourish, as they deserve. The sole drawback to their
domestic comfort is the baby. Between themselves—though never to other
dogs—they stigmatize her as an intruder and a nuisance. To impart the
truth, they are unaffectedly jealous.
However, as Sam has more than once been discovered reposing in the
child's cot, and John accompanies the perambulator, and condescends
to accept sponge-cakes and rusks, she may yet be acknowledged by her
four-footed rivals, and all will be well.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes.
1. Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
2. Line 6601 Page 173: "We never heard that Major Gascoigne had a
ward," remarked Miss Brewer, trenchantly.
'Miss Brewer' changed to 'Miss Ball'. Just three paragraphs earlier Mr.
Gasgoyne referred to the "THREE" ladies. Only three ladies were
present; Mrs. Flant, her sister Miss Ball and Angela.