attentions—when she heard of his sudden departure, without a word of farewell, felt that a cloud had fallen over her spirit which she could not shake off. Her parents guessed nothing of all this. She grew pale and listless, and they thought that the climate was already beginning to tell upon her, and trembled for her future health. Mrs. Stanley had already divined the cause, and she, too, wondered greatly at Neville's conduct.
Acting for their child's good, the Major and Mrs. Vinrace ruined her happiness by the very means; they took to secure it. Had they only told her of Mr. Neville's attachment, she would, in all probability, have acquiesced quietly in their decision, living in secret on the thought of being loved by one whom she deemed so noble and wise. But, as it was, she was utterly distressed and perplexed-distressed on the one hand that she had been betrayed into anything so unwomanly as to lose her affections to one who did not seek them—bitterly disappointed on the other hand that her hero should prove himself less worthy of the reverence she had felt. Either she had been forward, or he had been trifling, and both were equally hard to believe. Did he think of her as a mere child? Then why had he paid her such deference!—why had he shown such deep interest in all she said and did? A mere acquaintance would have called to say good-bye. A friend would never have treated her so. Thus troubled and perplexed her health gave way, and though she struggled hard to maintain her usual cheerfulness, and to be all that her parents wished, still every one could perceive a change. The Major and Mrs. Vinrace, fearing that she could not stand a hot season, had already determined that she should return to England, and remain under the care of the aunt who had brought her up, and it was arranged that she should travel under the care of Mr. and Mrs. Grove, who were going home on furlough. She was spending a few days with Mrs. Stanley for the last time, as she expected to leave for Calcutta in a few weeks.
They were sitting quietly together when Mr. Stanley rushed in in an excited state:
"Frank, what is the matter!" cried his wife.
"I have had dreadful news: poor Neville has been nearly murdered in his bed."
"Horrible," cried Mrs. Stanley, as she instinc tively rushed to Clara, who looked so ghastly white that she expected to see her faint away, but she sat still and speechless as a statue.
Mr. Stanley went on.
"The worst of it is, he is quite alone, without a European near him, and there is not a moment's dependence to be placed on those dastardly natives. I propose taking our doctor immediately, and going to him myself. The matter must be inquired into without delay. The Commissioner agrees with me, and will send a military guard at once."
"I will go with you Frank."
"Well, perhaps it will be best. I have given orders for a dawk to be laid, and we will start at once."
A chuprassie[1] was despatched to the barracks, and Mrs. Vinrace came to fetch her daughter. She was shocked at the intelligence, and still more shocked at the effect it seemed to have upon Clara, and she took an opportunity of speaking to Mrs. Stanley about her. In the fulness of her heart she told her about Mr. Neville's unfortunate rejection.
"Ah, I see it all," Mrs. Stanley said. "This was the cause of his leaving so abruptly, and now he has been exposing himself to dangers, and drawing on himself the animosity of these treacherous natives. Frank is determined to sift it to the bottom, but the first thing to be thought of is his recovery," and then she added, "for Clara's sake."
"What do you mean, Mrs. Stanley?"
"I mean that this attachment, and not the climate, has made Clara ill. It had gone quite too far to be cured by sending Mr. Neville away, and I mean that if he recovers, I for one will leave no stone unturned to bring them together again."
"My dear, I call all such disproportionate marriages a mere sacrifice."
"Oh! Mrs. Vinrace, would you sacrifice your daughter's health and happiness, and perhaps life, to this idea? In most cases, I think you are right, but this is quite an exceptional one."
There was time for no more; a parting embrace between the friends; a whispered entreaty from Clara, "you will write and tell me," and Mrs. Vinrace took her daughter away.
The Stanleys reached D in about ten hours, and they found Mr. Neville still living, but in a very low state after the fearful event of the night before. All the particulars they could learn about the crime were, that Mr. Neville awaked from a swoon, as it is supposed, to find himself frightfully wounded in the head. He had just strength left to call his servants, when he again fell into an unconscious state, which lasted for some hours. The murderer had apparently come in the early morning. The wound must have been inflicted by a hatchet or a sword, and then the wretches must have left their victim for dead. The wonder is that the blow was not immediately fatal. For many days the danger appeared to be imminent, and very slender hopes of his recovery could Mrs. Stanley hold out in her first note to her friend. But by degrees, through the doctor's skill, and the constant care and attention of his friends, and the perfect stillness and quiet enforced, he appeared to rally; favourable symptoms showed themselves, and hopes of his complete restoration began to be entertained. Mr. and Mrs. Stanley remained in his place, and as soon as he was able to travel, he was to proceed to Calcutta, and thence to England. Not for some time after conversation was allowed him had he ventured on the name of Vinrace; but at length, finding that Mrs. Stanley had discovered his secret, he sought her womanly sympathy and counsel. She would not, for anything, betray Clara, yet she managed to give him some gleam of hope, and he determined, should his health be fully restored, to try again.
The last boat had put off from the Peninsular and Oriental Company's steamship, Vectis, bearing Major Vinrace back to the pier, and the engines had already begun to work; but though the air was sultry, and the sun was scorching, Clara would- ↑ Anglicè, messenger.
