Star of India, Alice Perrin [best ereader for manga .txt] 📗

to add to his provocation, when Mrs. Carrington beckoned Stella to her side that she might kiss her good-night, he heard the old lady forbid her to go out before breakfast next morning. No reason was given, only the order. What tyranny! Was it any wonder that, apart from everything else, Stella should yearn to escape from The Chestnuts? Stella glanced at him ruefully over her grandmother's head; he returned her a nod of sympathetic understanding. Next day it should all be different. He enjoyed the prospect of astounding the old martinet.

The following morning Mrs. Carrington was not so easy to corner. When she appeared Ellen was in close attendance, and Stella was on duty with Augusta, occupied with household tasks that seemed to involve strenuous attacks on cupboards, and perpetual visits to the kitchen, whence came hot, sweet[Pg 59] whiffs of jam-making. Colonel Crayfield wandered aimlessly in the garden, consoling himself with plans for the immediate future. The marriage must take place as soon as possible—he supposed it would have to be in the village church—but a special licence would expedite matters. In little more than a couple of months his leave would be up—it would allow only just time for Stella to have riding lessons, singing lessons, to collect the right sort of outfit, for which, of course, he would be responsible. No village dressmaker, no ready-made garments for his wife. His own particular star should shine in every detail.

At last; there was the old lady, alone on the terrace, settled in a big basket chair, a mushroom-shaped hat tied on with a broad ribbon, her ebony stick handy, a small table at her side on which lay spectacles, a handkerchief, and the paper which arrived at midday. Colonel Crayfield approached her; formal greetings were exchanged, then he took an uncomfortable little garden chair from its resting-place against the wall and applied himself to business.

"Now," he said briskly, "I am ready to tell you what I propose should be done about Stella."

Mrs. Carrington pouched her cheeks, and intimated silently that she also was ready—to listen. He trusted she would not have a stroke when she heard what he was about to propose!

"It may seem a very sudden decision on my part, Mrs. Carrington," he began; "but I wish to take Stella into my own keeping——"

At once Mrs. Carrington was all gracious acquiescence. (Ellen! He had spoken to Ellen?)

[Pg 60]

"Perhaps I can guess the means by which you intend to bring about such an excellent solution of our difficulties," she remarked, with an arch expression that struck him as grotesque; and before he could continue, she added: "I may tell you that I had my suspicions ten years ago!" (Good heavens! What could she mean?) "I may also say that in my opinion nothing could be more suitable."

"I am afraid we are at cross purposes," said Colonel Crayfield carefully. From his own standpoint he felt that the marriage could hardly be termed "suitable," though the gain for the girl was undeniable.

"Then will you kindly explain?" demanded Mrs. Carrington.

"Certainly. It is my intention to marry your granddaughter."

Grandmamma stared at him. Then she grabbed her stick and struck it sharply on the ground. "My good man, are you in your senses?" she cried. "Do you realise that Stella is not only a child, but that she has bad blood in her veins? That such an unnatural union could only result in disaster? Now, if it had been Ellen, her aunt——"

The old lady's natural reserve had been blown, as by a volcano, sky high.

So that was the idea! Colonel Crayfield only just saved himself from laughing aloud.

"But you see," he said lightly, "it is not Miss Ellen—fortunately for me, since I fear she would hardly welcome me as a suitor."

Mrs. Carrington ignored this playful attitude.[Pg 61] "It is a preposterous idea! You are not a young man. Have you considered the cost and the risk?" Her voice was severe.

"Why," he argued judicially, "should there be any 'risk,' as you call it? After all, I am not such a Methuselah, and surely you can trust me to safeguard my wife's honour and happiness as well as my own?"

"In the present, no doubt. But what about the end of it all? In ten, even twenty years' time, Stella will still be a young woman, while you——" Her pause was cruelly pointed.

Colonel Crayfield glowered. Confound the old devil; there must be an end to this croaking, these distasteful forebodings. Assuming indifference, he stretched out his legs. The chair wobbled ominously, and rising with precautionary haste, he began to pace backwards and forwards before his aged adversary. Her opposition was so unexpected!

"It seems to me," he said, keeping his temper with an effort, "that Stella would be infinitely better off as my wife than if she stayed here, perhaps to marry beneath her, perhaps never to marry at all? I can't take her to India as my ward or as my adopted daughter. I'm not quite old enough for that!"

"How old are you?" inquired grandmamma spitefully.

"Not much over fifty," he told her, with disarming readiness, "and I flatter myself that I am young for my age. I am well off; I am willing to make suitable provision for my widow. What more can you want?" He spoke now with truculence.

[Pg 62]

"Well, I suppose you must cut your own throat, if you are so minded," said grandmamma; "but perhaps Stella may not care to marry a man old enough to be her father—even, to stretch a point, her grandfather!"

"We shall see!" was his confident answer.

The old lady sat silent. She was deeply disappointed, so convinced had she felt that it was Ellen he was after, and that Stella would be going to India beneath Ellen's safe wing. It was so seldom her wishes were thwarted, so seldom her disapproval of anything bore no weight.

Presently she said, "And when do you suggest that this extraordinary marriage should take place?"

"Just as soon as it can all be arranged. I may say that I wish to be responsible for Stella's outfit—indeed, for all expenses."

Mrs. Carrington's expression became a little less disagreeable. Money was not plentiful at The Chestnuts. After all, no one could deny that in a way it was a good enough chance for the child. But settlements must be certain. If Stella got into trouble, there must be no returning her, penniless, to her people, disgraced into the bargain.

"I can only give my consent provided that Stella will be perfectly secure, financially, whatever happens in the future."

Colonel Crayfield smiled; it was, as Mrs. Carrington felt, a smile that was covertly insulting. "When I have spoken to Stella," he said slowly, "I shall return to London and make proper arrangements with my lawyer. My intentions will be [Pg 63]submitted to you, and I hardly imagine you will find fault with them."

"Very well, then; there is no more to be said at present. But do not forget that I have warned you."

"I appreciate your concern on my behalf, Mrs. Carrington; but, believe me, I think you are unduly apprehensive."

"Let us hope so," said Mrs. Carrington grimly; and it was a relief to them both when, at this moment, Augusta stepped out of the drawing-room to remind her mother that luncheon would soon be on the table, to suggest that the sun was rather powerful, and would it not be wiser for mamma to come indoors?

[Pg 64]

CHAPTER V

After all, Colonel Crayfield was driven to proposing in the kitchen garden. Stella was sent there, when luncheon was over, to pick more fruit for jam-making, that serious ceremony being now at its height; not even the presence of an important guest in the house could be permitted to delay its progress. Colonel Crayfield volunteered in public to help his goddaughter; Ellen's pale eyes flickered, grandmamma was coldly silent; only Augusta, who, as yet, was ignorant of his intentions, uttered conventional protests. Why should he trouble? It was so hot out of doors; Stella was well used to the little task, and required no help—would he not prefer to sit quiet with a book, or the paper? Colonel Crayfield was equally punctilious—no trouble, a pleasure.... Though, unfortunately, unversed in the business of fruit picking for jam, he would feel it a privilege to be allowed to contribute his share of assistance, and so on.

At last the pair set off, armed with huge baskets, towards the sun-blistered door let into the old brick wall of the garden.

"I will join you as soon as I can," Augusta called after them kindly.

"I hope she won't!" said Colonel Crayfield, to the malicious delight of Stella, who promptly echoed the hope. For the first time she felt reconciled to the[Pg 65] tedious duty, for surely now was her chance to coax Colonel Crayfield into giving her at least some sort of notion as to what was to happen.

As they opened the rickety door he contrived to touch her hand gently, again as they closed it behind them; then, rather to his discomposure, she suddenly slipped her hand confidingly into his.

"Do tell me," she urged; "I know you've got some plan up your sleeve."

She found her hand tightly imprisoned. "You are sure you want to go to India?" he asked her.

"You know! I've told you—it's the dream of my life."

"As a governess, or a missionary?"

"Oh, don't be so tiresome—as anything!"

"Well," he restrained himself still.

"Go on!" she cried with impatience.

"How would you like to go to India with me?"

"With you?"

"Yes"—he dropped his basket, snatched hers from her grasp and flung it to the ground. Now he was holding both her hands. "Yes, with me, Stella—as my wife!"

Had the old red-brick walls of the garden fallen flat around her she could hardly have felt more astounded. Involuntarily she wrenched her hands free, clasped them behind her, backed away from him.

He advanced upon her. "Now, now, little girl, what is the matter? Isn't it all quite simple? You told me yourself there was no one here you could marry, didn't you? And now here is someone who[Pg 66] wants you, who will take you to India and give you everything in the world you could wish for——"

"I'm—I'm so surprised!"

It was just what silly Ellen Carrington had said; damn it all, couldn't the child understand that she was being given the chance of her lifetime!

"Come, come—isn't it a pleasant surprise?"

She grew white, then red. "I never thought of such a thing!" she exclaimed, in agitated apology.

"Of course not, why should you? I quite understand. But it's easy enough to think of now—eh?"

Her hesitation inflamed him further; he hungered to kiss her, to hold her in his arms—the first, and as long as he lived, the last man to do so. Next moment his lips were on hers; she was enfolded, crushed to his big body, almost suffocated, and to his intense satisfaction she made no resistance....

To Stella it was like all she had heard about drowning, when a multitude of impressions and memories were said to invade the mind in a miraculously short space of time: Maud Verrall and her love adventures and engagement; the spotty youth outside the Greystones gate; young Capper the farmer; the lumber room at The Chestnuts, and her thirst for India; and oddly, above all, the words of the familiar hymn that of a sudden had exasperated her those many Sundays ago seemed to beat time to the recollections: