Alice Lauder/Part 1/Chapter 6

THE mail which came in that evening brought a letter to Campbell from a relation of his father’s, highly placed in the Indian Civil Service, where the Campbells had always distinguished themselves. The relative had been looking out for a suitable opening, and now wrote that he had secured the very thing—the very thing in this instance being the promise of a private secretaryship to a still greater personage, which might be considered as a very big step up the ladder for any young man with his head screwed on the right way. Arthur was not sure about the screwing of his head, but in any case the offer must be accepted, and at once. He must take the next steamer to India, and say farewell—a long farewell, probably—to all his fellow-passengers on board the “Suez.”

It was with very mingled feelings that he made some hurried preparations for this new departure, or, to speak more truly, with a sensa​tion of sudden disappointment, even when the long-desired first step towards success in life was so near. He was ambitious in his silent English way, and there was a strength of will behind the fine outlines of his features which really gave them all their charm and distinction. His clear-cut bronze countenance was but the outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. Nothing small or mean was inscribed there. One felt in looking at him—“He was a man; take him for all in all,” and full of a man’s ambitions, perhaps even of worldliness of the larger kind. The prospect of congenial work, and not less delightful play, the chance of measuring himself against some of the keenest intellects in a brilliant Indian circle, the new and exciting society, the variety of “big sport,” were all alluring to the ambitious side of his nature; yet he felt as homesick as a schoolboy. He longed to see them all again at home—his father, the fine old hunting squire who practised in real life all the virtues of an obituary notice, yet knew more about a horse than any other man in the county; his brilliant diplomatic mother, still young and pretty, and adored by everyone—an adoration she passed on with interest to her big boy; even the old house in the Cotswold Hills, and the dogs and horses, sud​denly became doubly dear with the irresistible charm of the unattainable. It was hard to turn his steps eastward again, when almost within sight of home; but he went on writing his letters, and burning his ships, without even a momentary halt for regret. He did not refrain, however, from audible laments and maledictions on the hard fate which came in the disguise of good fortune. Blessings are said to come in disguise ofttimes , and why not the other visitants? He regretted especially leaving his pleasant voyage unfinished, and parting with two, at least, of his fellow-travellers. What would Lady May say to this turn of events? and that odd little Australian girl, who interested him somehow against his better judgment. He felt really anxious about her future; she was so inexperienced , so unfriended, and he had all the musician’s kindness for a comrade in arms.

“I wish I could do something for her,” he murmured; “she will never get on by herself in London. I wonder if my mother would look after her?” But at this point he paused, and deliberated; for the idea of any society lady “taking up” a girl who habitually wore cotton gloves and made her coiffure with two hairpins and a wisp of black ribbon—even if she could ​play all Bach’s fugues by heart—was almost unthinkable.

He was writing at a window which overlooked the broad, covered terrace in front of the hotel, where all the floating fashionable population of the steamers was wont to assemble before lunch; and at that day Galle was the meeting-place for two or three lines of Indian and Australian mail packets. The usual traffic in jewellery and curiosities was in full swing as Campbell opened the shutter and looked out for a moment’s rest and fresh air. Just below him was a group of the “Suez” passengers—of the most undesirable section. Miss Lauder was standing in the centre of the group, quite happy and at home; and her faculty of making friends with all sorts and conditions of men and women, irrespective of social position, or even of the legal penalties of etiquette, was evidently finding full development.

She looked rather pretty from a distance, bright with health and amusement. On her forefinger she balanced a very small brilliant-plumaged paroquet, and every minute or two she raised the tiny jewelled creature to her lips with a delicate caress, while a small Persian kitten, with an immense feathery tail, was coiled up comfortably in a round fuzzy ball on her ​shoulder. She seemed to wear these little creatures as if they were some novel form of jewellery, and in point of fact they were very becoming. The bronzy velvet of the kitten’s fur contrasted with the yellower tints of her hair, and the little glancing bird was as beautiful as a sapphire amulet. Where the kitten had arrived from did not appear on the surface of things, but it could be easily seen that the paroquet was a “friendship’s offering” from the chief engineer, that official appearing for once in the full glare of day, and, careless of his nautical duties, standing beside the young lady with his usual modest air of silent admiration.

Arthur closed the shutter with a snap, shook his head, and returned to his correspondence. His English relations would hardly thank him for an introduction to all this menagerie, and he thought it safest not to attempt such a service. However, when he came down to lunch at the table d’hôte, where the news of his departure had already been discussed over the cocoanut curry, Alice looked so sorrowful, and even the undesirable passengers expressed so much regret at losing him, that his heart softened, and he felt quite sad at parting with them, one and all, from the chivalric old captain to the much checkered funny man.

​As they left the table he disengaged himself from these farewells, and said in a low voice, “It’s too hot for anything now, Miss Lauder, but come down about four o’clock and meet me here. I’ve found out a capital room at the back with a grand piano, where we can play without bringing a crowd round us. Do come; it’s my last chance for a talk and some music with you. My steamer leaves to-night.”