B. M. Croker

“ I'd a million times rather stay up here in the jungle, the real delightful jungle, within reach of white bread, the post-office, and hairpins. I could sit and read, and dream, and sketch, and ride up and down the valleys for months, and be so happy. What a shame it is that one cannot enjoy what one likes."
"Unfortunately we often like what is bad for us," said her guardian drily.
Angel drew a sigh of assent, and then resumed, "We never would have found this place, only for one of my jampannis, whose brother is in your service; he knew the way; was it not luck?"
"Yes," agreed Major Gascoigne. ”

“ Angel put out her hand; the fortune-teller glanced at it curiously, then he looked up in her face with a strenuous stare, and there was a silence only broken by Miss Cuffe's titter. At last it came, a sonorous voice speaking as if pronouncing judgment.
"Oh, yea—thou art a wife."
"The servants told," giggled Miss Cuffe in an audible voice.
"Hush, hush," expostulated her friend, "he is speaking."
"Thou wast given to a man by a dead hand—" another pause—"he married thee at the bidding of a woman—his foot is on thy heart—it is well, lo! he is a man—and to be trusted." ”

“ The flood was rising in the room, and the hut shivered and trembled like some live thing. "Come, Lola, you must make a dash for your life," urged Angel, placing the lamp in the window, and reaching out to help her to rise. "Every moment it is getting worse."
As Lola staggered to her feet, a wave half filled the hut, and she seemed to lose her reason, and broke into a shrill, wild, unbroken scream—it was hardly like the human voice—minute after minute it continued, and every minute it became wilder and more piercing. Suddenly Gascoigne stood in the doorway. ”

“ Eliot, gravely.
"Why?" echoed the other man, "good Lord—is not your visit a plain answer to the question? If people are such brutes as to make a scandal out of—"
Mr. Eliot extended his hand with a gesture of deprecation.
"Oh, then, go on," said Gascoigne impatiently; "tell me what I can do? Say the word."
"You can—marry her," was the totally unexpected answer.
Gascoigne's reply was equally astonishing; it took the form of a long pause, and then a loud derisive laugh. "I—marry Angel!" he cried at last. "Excuse me, but the idea is too absurd." ”

“ Gascoigne strolled back to his quarters, a prey to some anxious thoughts. What passion was embodied in the child's puny embrace, and was it to be, as Shafto predicted, a millstone about his neck as long as ever he lived? There was no blinking the fact, that he had accepted a serious charge. Angel was totally apart from other little girls of her age who cared for chocolates and dolls. She was only interested in human puppets, in the serious things of life, her feelings and emotions far transcended her years. She was a child in a thousand, for good or evil. ”

“ Red plains sprang to life, and became a delicate green, frogs croaked hilariously, snakes were washed out of their holes, sickly vegetation revived as if touched by some magician's wand, and all the oleanders were in flower.
During the long, wet days, when nullahs were racing torrents and the avenue a running stream—a joy to the ducks—Angel was constantly to be found at the big bungalow, playing the rôle of enfant de la maison. She was permitted to wander through the empty rooms, and to amuse herself to her heart's content. Her guardian was a good deal from home ”

“ Gascoigne started up as if he had been struck; he followed her glance, and beheld a pair of weird visages glowering through the darkness. The face of Mrs. Flant—a woman with a tongue—and the face of her sister, Miss Ball, both acquaintances from Marwar.
These two ladies had been in desperate extremities; they had, in spite of all advice, insisted on descending—roads or no roads—to Marwar for a ball. Their jampannis and coolies had missed the path, night had fallen, the storm had burst, and there they all were benighted in the jungle. ”

“ Gordon.
"And she has been so nice to me."
Mrs. Gordon glanced quickly at Angel. Where were her keen susceptibilities? what had become of her usually sharp sight? How had this good-looking, ingratiating, self-seeking widow managed to throw dust in those clear eyes?
"So you don't like her," said Angel; "now I wonder why? You generally classify people so indulgently—where would you place Mrs. Waldershare?"
"In the reptile house at the Zoo!" was the startling rejoinder. "I do not often take a dislike to people, but when I do it is invincible." ”

“ In this period, naturally the happiest of Philip's life, she had no share; and as the pair talked, drawn on from subject to subject, undoubtedly they sometimes forgot the third person, who sat half buried in sofa cushions, aloof and silent, telling herself that she, not Lola, was the outsider. She alone stood between Philip and this beautiful woman, with whom he had so much in common—youth, dead and living friends, memories, and first love. Angel had the power of keeping her feelings to herself, but she could not keep her misery entirely out of her face. ”

“ Clever men and clever women absorbed all her husband's attention as their right—and she was deserted.
Philip never appeared to realise that she looked for anything beyond a pretty home, pretty frocks, horses and dogs, flowers and books, and a running stream of amusement. He was thoughtful of her health and comfort, most particular in the choice of her servants and horses, and then, having loaded her with luxuries, he withdrew into his work, and it never seemed to occur to him that her life lacked anything, least of all his own companionship. Angel was proud, and she kept her sorrow to herself. ”

“ It would have been impossible for Angel to have remained with Richard; they are like fire and oil, and what would have been her fate? Oh, Philip, it is such a tender little heart, and how she will miss me! Poor Dick, he only sees her faults, not her good qualities. She is strong-willed, jealous, reckless, and revengeful, but she will do anything for love. She would die for a person she loved. Remember that love is the key to her nature, never forget that. I may confess to you now that Angel is my favourite child, my own little fluffy-haired baby ”

“ Gascoigne stared at his wife; he could not speak.
"I am much stronger than I look," resumed Angel; "who would believe that I, who am but two-and-twenty, could influence Mrs. Gordon, who, as you once boasted to me, could influence a province!"
"Who, indeed?" he echoed; but when he saw Angel in this exalted mood he was prepared to believe in her victories.
"She was only drawn gradually to the brink, inch by inch, step by step; and, oh, she struggled so hard. Alan Lindsay is clever, plausible, eloquent. ”

“ No apologies were necessary, for Angel appreciated solitude, and they each went their own way; for that was understood in an unwritten bond. But when the monsoon broke in the middle of June, the rain descended in steady gray sheets, and roared and battered on the zinc roof of Rockstone, there were no more gay jaunts or excursions down into Chotah-Bilat. The six hill-men shed their wasp-like costumes, and huddled in their brown blankets, or "cumlies," squatted round like a huka, talking scandal and money matters, in their quarters among the pines. ”

“ I believe all women are possessed of an instinct, and recognise love when they see it. Dear Elinor, do forgive me," she pleaded, and her voice broke, "because I love you, and I have so few to love. If I do not speak to you—who will dare? My sight is terribly keen—I cannot help it—I cannot help seeing that Philip does not love me—that Alan Lindsay does love you." ”

“ Wilkinson. "I keep her out of his way as much as possible, as he hates the very sight of her. He says you never know what she is going to do next; she plays the most unexpected tricks, she is heartless, untruthful, and fond of luxury."
Gascoigne broke into a short, incredulous laugh. "What! that thin, shabby little child. My dear Lena, she does not know what the word luxury means."
Her mother heaved a profound sigh as she answered, "Remember, I do not say these horrid things. I know that Angel is not heartless; she has strong feelings, she is devoted to me—and she simply worships you." ”

“ Waldershare had died a year sooner, if she had not rushed out so madly and hampered Philip with herself, he and Lola might have been happy after all. As she stumbled into her tent, and flung herself on her bed, she was once more the old emotional Angel, agonising with the misery of her aching heart. There were three people who were bound to be unhappy—two as long as she lived and stood between them, and she was the younger by many years. What a prospect! Angel was experiencing the hopeless agony of an exceptional soul ”

“ Gascoigne," he sneered.
"I am far-sighted," she admitted quietly.
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"Don't you know—do you not see that it would be for Elinor's happiness to cast off this hideous life of pretence, and become my second self, my wife, the mistress of my dear old home?"
"She would be mad to listen to you," said Angel fiercely; "she will suffer, when you leave; she will mourn as for a death—oh, it will be a hard trial, but it is better to suffer and be strong now, and get it over, than to endure agonies of shame later on, and always. She will never listen to your plan. ”

“ It was most unbecoming (favourite word) for a young married woman to be left alone, and Mrs. Waldershare was such a quiet, sensible, charming chaperone,—and so clever. Truly she was marvellously clever; in some gradual, inexplicable fashion, she assumed the lead of the household. Yes, without sound, or beat of drum. She was joint hostess, not guest; there was a solid, resistless force in her character that Angel was powerless to combat. At early morning, or afternoon tea, it was no uncommon thing for her to find Mrs. Waldershare already seated before the teapot. ”

“ Colonel Gascoigne suddenly sat down and rested his elbow on the table, and stared hard at his wife. His mind was a battlefield of conflicting ideas. Angel had never told him an untruth—no, not even at Ramghur; and, as for Mrs. Gordon, had she not years of good deeds to speak for her?
"They are absolutely suited to each other," continued Angel, suddenly changing her position; she no longer lounged with crossed knees, dangling arms, and a swinging little satin-clad foot. ”

“ Angel had dressed her hair elaborately—she abjured a fringe—it was parted in the middle, and turned back in great masses, and gathered up in a knot low on her neck, with one or two rebellious little curls peeping over her forehead. She wore a dark trailing skirt, and a white silk and lace blouse, with close-fitting lace sleeves. Nor were the little decorative touches which add so much to a toilette omitted; she wore turquoise ornaments, a picturesque silver belt, and a band of black velvet enhanced the whiteness of her throat. ”

“ Marwar was a capital centre, she had gathered this information en route; Indian people were approachable, hospitable, and not too inquisitive; appearances go far, when one sails away from a—reputation.
Then by a wonderful stroke of luck she encountered Philip Gascoigne; as good-looking as ever; no longer the impetuous boy, the impassioned subaltern, but a cool, self-reliant, distinguished Philip, with a fine position, a heavy purse, and a dear, simple, appreciative wife. ”

“ Scandal is hard to stifle, even when it has not a tittle of foundation—evil minds continue to repeat. 'There is no smoke without a fire.' I believe there is no fire, nothing but the cold, wet sticks of early companionship. I say, that I know you to be a good fellow, Gascoigne; Miss Angel is a beautiful, high-spirited, warm-hearted girl. Accept what fate sends you—marry her if you can, and be thankful. ”

“ But she is one of those what I call trampling women, who are determined to get all the good out of life—no matter who suffers."
"My dear Mrs. Fitzjohn," said Deep Voice, and in that voice there was a loud note of indignation, "Lola Hargreaves was never like this. She sacrificed herself entirely for her family, as I've told you. Mr. Waldershare helped her father, and saved him from disgrace—saved the estates, too. I was her bridesmaid," speaking as if this alone were a certificate of virtue. "And I never saw anyone look so white in my life. Oh yes, she sacrificed herself—we all felt that." ”

“ The country grew stranger and sterner, they passed along the edges of fathomless ravines, between rugged inaccessible mountains, and Angel realised for the first time the inspiring effect of a wild and brooding solitude, where the almost awful silence was only broken by the muttering of her Pahari bearers, as they passed about the Huka, the scream of a kite, or the bleating of a belated sheep. ”