One Maid's Mischief Part 110

"I'm glad you like it."

"Hah! ye ought to be verra happy indeed, wumman, for the doctor's a good man, and a trusty fren'. Hah! that's good whuskee," he added, with a sigh of satisfaction after a deep draught. "Life would be but a sore lookout in these parts wi'-out joost a soop o' whuskee to take the taste o' the crocodiles out o' the watter."

"It is very hot out of doors, is it not, father?" said Grey, who was wondering what he meant to say.

"Ay, it's hot enough," he replied. "An' so ye're not verra happy, Mrs Bolter? Ay, but ye ought to be, and so ought my child Grey here, wi'

every comfort in life except extravagances, which I don't hold with at all. She lives well, and dresses quietly, as a young lady should, and her father has not set up a grand house to flash and show in, and then have to give it up, and go and live in one that's wee."

"I don't quite understand you," said Mrs Bolter, colouring slightly, and looking indignant. "But if you are hinting at the doctor being extravagant, I cannot sit here without resenting it, for a more careful man never lived."

"Ay, but he is a sad dog, the doctor," said old Stuart, with a twinkle full of malice in his eye.

"How dare you say such a thing to me--his wife!" cried Mrs Bolter, indignantly.

"Hoot! wumman; dinna be fashed!" exclaimed old Stuart, who seemed delighted to have roused a spirit of opposition in his friend's wife.

"But I'll say this o' him," he continued, gradually growing more Scottish of accent; "he does keep gude whuskee. Ay, I was na' speaking o' him when I talked aboot lairge and sma' houses, but o' poor Perowne.

Ay, but it's a bad job."

"What, about poor Helen?" said Mrs Bolter. "Ay, and his affairs. I suppose ye ken a'?"

"His affairs?" exclaimed Mrs Doctor. "What do you mean?"

"Oh! I thought a' Sindang knew he'd failed. Sax hundred pounds o' my money goes with the rest. But there, puir mon, he's in trouble enough wi' the loss o' his daughter, and I'll never say a word about it more."

"Is Mr Perowne in fresh trouble then, father?" said Grey, eagerly.

"Weel, my la.s.sie there's naught fresh about it, for he must have expected it for a year or two. He's been going down-hill a lang time, and noo he's recht at the bottom."

"Has he failed, father?"

"Joost ruined and bankrupt, my la.s.sie, and Helen won't have a penny to call her own--a proud, stuck-up--"

"Hush, father! I cannot bear it," cried Grey, with spirit. "Helen Perowne is my friend and schoolfellow, and surely she is in trouble enough to ask our sympathy and not our blame!"

"Why, how now, la.s.sie!" cried the old man angrily. "Ay, but ye're quite right," he said, checking himself. "We ought to pity them, and not jump upon 'em when they're down. Ye're quite recht, Grey, my bairnie--quite recht."

"Oh, Mr Stuart, how shocking; and just when he is so ill and cast down!

Grey, my child, I must go and see if I can be of help to him. Will you stay with your father?"

"Ay, she'll stay, and you may too, Mrs Bolter, for Perowne has gone across to the Residency, and before now they're awa' up the river to try and find his poor la.s.sie. Ye're quite recht, Grey, my child; and if they find her and bring her back, stop wi' her and comfort her, and do the best ye can. I'm sorry for them, for we're none o' us pairfect.

But this is verra gude whuskee, Mrs Bolter. When do ye expect the Doctor home?"

"I don't know, Mr Stuart," she said, sadly. "Soon, I hope; but when he does come back he'll have to go after the expedition. It's very sad to be a doctor's wife."

"To be wife to some doctors," said old Stuart, laughing; "but not to our Bolter. Eh, but ye're a lucky wumman to get him. If ye hadn't taken him, I believe I should have made him marry my la.s.sie here. There, I must be for going though, for my hands are full. I'm trying to save a few hundreds for poor Perowne out of the wreck."

"When shall I see you again, father?" said Grey, clinging to him affectionately.

"Oh, heaps o' times, my bairnie, when ye don't expect it. I'm always looking out after ye, but I know ye're all recht wi' Mrs Bolter here, so do all ye can."

He nodded and smiled as he went out of the room, but looked in again directly.

"Ye needna be uneasy you two," he said, "for I'm having a watch kept over ye both, though ye don't ken it; so go on joost as usual. If I hear of the doctor coming, Mrs Bolter, I'll let ye know."

They heard his steps in the veranda, and directly after saw his bent, thin figure out in the scorching sun, with no further protection than a bit of muslin round his old straw hat, and looking as if he were not worth fifty pounds in the world, and the last man to be the father of the graceful little maiden sitting holding Mrs Bolter's hand.

VOLUME THREE, CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

THE FIRE BURNS AGAIN.

Days of anxiety and watching, with no news of the expedition which had started directly after Grey Stuart's father had crossed over to the island. The English community at Sindang were extremely uneasy, for it struck them that the Malays were keeping aloof, and that their servants looked ill-conditioned and sulky.

A strange silence seemed to reign in the place, with an almost utter absence of trade. No boats came down with flowers and fruit, and no cheerful intercourse was carried on as heretofore. Nothing had been seen of the Inche Maida, and Murad was quite an absentee; while not a word had been brought down the river relating to the doings of the expedition.

In accordance with the Resident's secretly-issued orders, every European left stood in readiness to flee to the Residency island, where the little garrison, under the care of a subaltern, kept strict watch and ward, and held themselves prepared to go to the aid of the merchants and their families, should there be need.

But day after day glided by, and still no doctor--no news.

"Poor Mr Perowne!" said Mrs Bolter one afternoon, as she sat talking to Grey Stuart, and discussing the terrible state of his affairs, of which the merchant made no secret; "it will be a sad downfall for them; but there, there, merchants fall and rise again very quickly, and let's hope all will come right in the end--Wasn't that the doctor's step, my dear?"

"No," said Grey, quietly, as she tried to look free from uneasiness.

"I wish we could get some news, my dear," sighed Mrs Bolter.

"All in good time," said Grey, looking happier than she felt. "We shall hear soon."

"I--I hope so, my dear," sighed Mrs Bolter; "but it is very sad to be a wife, waiting as I wait."

"But with patience now," said Grey, smiling. "You are happy now in your mind?"

"Ye-s! Oh! yes I am now, my dear; and I will never let such thoughts gain an entrance again."

"I know you will not," said Grey, leaning towards her to lay her hand upon the little lady's arm, in token of gentle sympathy, for the tears were in Mrs Bolter's eyes, and she showed in pallor how deeply she was feeling the absence of husband and brother.

That day the little station appeared as it were asleep in the hot suns.h.i.+ne, and the silence was oppressive in the extreme. One of the Malays, who seemed to take an interest in Mrs Bolter, consequent upon his having been cured by the doctor of a very dangerous complaint, had been started up the river in his boat, to see if he could learn any news of the party, and this messenger was anxiously expected back.

"I can't help it, my dear," said Mrs Bolter, turning to Grey, after some hours' silence, "I can't help thinking that something serious is wrong. Oh! how shocking it would be to be deprived of our protectors!"

"But Dr Bolter has been away for longer at a time than this, has he not?" said Grey, as she sat there, wondering whether the officers of the expedition were safe--above all, Captain Hilton.

"Yes, my dear," said the little lady, with a sigh; "he has been away longer before now; but no news of my brother--no news of him--it is very hard to bear."

"No, no, no," whispered Grey, pa.s.sing a soft arm round her neck; "try and be patient--try and think hopefully of everything. We must be patient at a time like this."

"But you cannot feel as I do, my dear," cried Mrs Bolter. "You have friends away, but not one whom you dwell upon as I do."