by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER IV.
The life of Isobel Hannay had not, up to the time when she left Englandto join her uncle, been a very bright one. At the death of her father,her mother had been left with an income that enabled her to live, as shesaid, genteelly, at Brighton. She had three children: the eldest agirl of twelve; Isobel, who was eight; and a boy of five, who was sadlydeformed, the result of a fall from the arms of a careless nurse whenhe was an infant. It was at that time that Major Hannay had come home onleave, having been left trustee and executor, and seen to all the moneyarrangements, and had established his brother's widow at Brighton. Thework had not been altogether pleasant, for Mrs. Hannay was a selfish andquerulous woman, very difficult to satisfy even in little matters, andwith a chronic suspicion that everyone with whom she came in contactwas trying to get the best of her. Her eldest girl was likely, CaptainHannay thought, to take after her mother, whose pet she was, whileIsobel took after her father. He had suggested that both should be sentto school, but Mrs. Hannay would not hear of parting from Helena, butwas willing enough that Isobel should be sent to a boarding school ather uncle's expense.
As the years went by, Helena grew up, as Mrs. Hannay proudly said, theimage of what she herself had been at her age--tall and fair, indolentand selfish, fond of dress and gayety, discontented because their meanswould not permit them to indulge in either to the fullest extent. Therewas nothing in common between her and her sister, who, when at homefor the holidays, spent her time almost entirely with her brother, whoreceived but slight attention from anyone else, his deformity beingconsidered as a personal injury and affliction by his mother and eldersister.
"You could not care less for him," Isobel once said, in a fit ofpassion, "if he were a dog. I don't think you notice him more, not onebit. He wanders about the house without anybody to give a thought tohim. I call it cruel, downright cruel."
"You are a wicked girl, Isobel," her mother said angrily, "a wicked,violent girl, and I don't know what will become of you. It is abominableof you to talk so, even if you are wicked enough to get into a passion.What can we do for him that we don't do? What is the use of talking tohim when he never pays attention to what we say, and is always moping. Iam sure we get everything that we think will please him, and he goes outfor a walk with us every day; what could possibly be done more for him?"
"A great deal more might be done for him," Isobel burst out. "You mightlove him, and that would be everything to him. I don't believe you andHelena love him, not one bit, not one tiny scrap."
"Go up to your room, Isobel, and remain there for the rest of the day.You are a very bad girl. I shall write to Miss Virtue about you; theremust be something very wrong in her management of you, or you wouldnever be so passionate and insolent as you are."
But Isobel had not stopped to hear the last part of the sentence, thedoor had slammed behind her. She was not many minutes alone upstairs,for Robert soon followed her up, for when she was at home he rarely lefther side, watching her every look and gesture with eyes as loving asthose of a dog, and happy to sit on the ground beside her, with his headleaning against her, for hours together.
Mrs. Hannay kept her word and wrote to Miss Virtue, and the eveningafter she returned to school Isobel was summoned to her room.
"I am sorry to say, I have a very bad account of you from your mother.She says you are a passionate and wicked girl. How is it, dear; you arenot passionate here, and I certainly do not think you are wicked?"
"I can't help it when I am at home, Miss Virtue. I am sure I try tobe good, but they won't let me. They don't like me because I can't bealways tidy and what they call prettily behaved, and because I hatewalking on the parade and being stuck up and unnatural, and they don'tlike me because I am not pretty, and because I am thin and don't look,as mamma says, a credit to her; but it is not that so much as becauseof Robert. You know he is deformed, Miss Virtue, and they don't care forhim, and he has no one to love him but me, and it makes me mad to seehim treated so. That is what it was she wrote about. I told her theytreated him like a dog and so they do," and she burst into tears.
"But that was very naughty, Isobel," Miss Virtue said gravely. "You areonly eleven years old, and too young to be a judge of these matters,and even if it were as you say, it is not for a child to speak so to hermother."
"I know that, Miss Virtue, but how can I help it? I could cry out withpain when I see Robert looking from one to the other just for a kindword, which he never gets. It is no use, Miss Virtue; if it was not forhim I would much rather never go home at all, but stop here throughthe holidays, only what would he do if I didn't go home? I am the onlypleasure he has. When I am there he will sit for hours on my knee, andlay his head on my shoulder, and stroke my face. It makes me feel as ifmy heart would break."
"Well, my dear," Miss Virtue said, somewhat puzzled, "it is sad, if itis as you say, but that does not excuse your being disrespectful to yourmother. It is not for you to judge her."
"But cannot something be done for Robert, Miss Virtue? Surely they mustdo something for children like him."
"There are people, my dear, who take a few afflicted children and givethem special training. Children of that kind have sometimes shown agreat deal of unusual talent, and, if so, it is cultivated, and they areput in a way of earning a livelihood."
"Are there?" Isobel exclaimed, with eager eyes. "Then I know what Iwill do, Miss Virtue; I will write off at once to Uncle Tom--he isour guardian. I know if I were to speak to mamma about Robert going toschool it would be of no use; but if uncle writes I dare say it would bedone. I am sure she and Helena would be glad enough. I don't suppose sheever thought of it. It would be a relief to them to get him out of theirsight."
Miss Virtue shook her head. "You must not talk so, Isobel. It is notright or dutiful, and you are a great deal too young to judge yourelders, even if they were not related to you; and, pray, if you write toyour uncle do not write in that spirit--it would shock him greatly, andhe would form a very bad opinion of you."
And so Isobel wrote. She was in the habit of writing once every halfyear to her uncle, who had told her that he wished her to do so, andthat people out abroad had great pleasure in letters from England.Hitherto she had only written about her school life, and this lettercaused her a great deal of trouble.
It answered its purpose. Captain Hannay had no liking either for hissister in law or his eldest niece, and had, when he was with them, beenstruck with the neglect with which the little boy was treated. Isobelhad taken great pains not to say anything that would show she consideredthat Robert was harshly treated; but had simply said that she heardthere were schools where little boys like him could be taught, and thatit would be such a great thing for him, as it was very dull for himhaving nothing to do all day. But Captain Hannay read through the lines,and felt that it was a protest against her brother's treatment, and thatshe would not have written to him had she not felt that so only wouldanything be done for him. Accordingly he wrote home to his sister inlaw, saying he thought it was quite time now that the boy should beplaced with some gentleman who took a few lads unfitted for the roughlife of an ordinary school. He should take the charges upon himself, andhad written to his agent in London to find out such an establishment,to make arrangements for Robert to go there, and to send down one of hisclerks to take charge of him on the journey. He also wrote to Isobel,telling her what he had done, and blaming himself for not having thoughtof it before, winding up by saying: "I have not mentioned to your motherthat I heard from you about it--that is a little secret just as well tokeep to ourselves."
The next five years were much happier to Isobel, for the thought of herbrother at home without her had before been constantly on her mind. Itwas a delight to her now to go home and to see the steady improvementthat took place in Robert. He was brighter in every respect, andexpressed himself as most happy where he was.
As years went on he grew into a bright and intelligent boy, though hishealth was by no means good, and he looked frail and delicate. H
e was aspassionately attached to her as ever, and during the holidays theywere never separated; they stood quite alone, their mother and sisterinteresting themselves but little in their doings, and they were allowedto take long walks together, and to sit in a room by themselves, wherethey talked, drew, painted, and read.
Mrs. Hannay disapproved of Isobel as much as ever. "She is a mostheadstrong girl," she would lament to her friends, "and is really quitebeyond my control. I do not at all approve of the school she is at, butunfortunately my brother in law, who is her guardian, has, under thewill of my poor husband, absolute control in the matter. I am sure poorJohn never intended that he should be able to override my wishes; butthough I have written to him several times about it, he says that hesees no valid reason for any change, and that from Isobel's letters tohim she seems very happy there, and to be getting on well. She is sovery unlike dear Helena, and even when at home I see but little of her;she is completely wrapped up in her unfortunate brother. Of course Idon't blame her for that, but it is not natural that a girl her ageshould care nothing for pleasures or going out or the things natural toyoung people. Yes, she is certainly improving in appearance, and if shewould but take some little pains about her dress would be really verypresentable."
But her mother's indifference disturbed Isobel but little. She wasperfectly happy with her brother when at home, and very happy at school,where she was a general favorite. She was impulsive, high spirited,and occasionally gave Miss Virtue some trouble, but her dispositionwas frank and generous, there was not a tinge of selfishness in herdisposition, and while she was greatly liked by girls of her own age,she was quite adored by little ones. The future that she always picturedto herself was a little cottage with a bright garden in the suburbs ofLondon, where she and Robert could live together--she would go out as adaily governess; Robert, who was learning to play the organ, would,she hoped, get a post as organist. Not, of course, for the sake of thesalary, for her earnings, and the interest of the thousand pounds thatwould be hers when she came of age, would be sufficient for them both,but as an amusement for him, and to give him a sense of independence.
But when she was just seventeen, and was looking forward to the timewhen she would begin to carry her plan into effect, a terrible blowcame. She heard from her mother that Robert was dead.
"It is a sad blow for us all," Mrs. Hannay wrote, "but, as you know, hehas never been strong; still, we had no idea that anything serious ailedhim until we heard a fortnight since he was suffering from a violentcough and had lost strength rapidly. A week later we heard that thedoctors were of opinion it was a case of sudden consumption, and thatthe end was rapidly approaching. I went up to town to see him, and foundhim even worse than I expected, and was in no way surprised when thismorning I received a letter saying that he had gone. Great as is theblow, one cannot but feel that, terribly afflicted as he was, his deathis, as far as he is concerned, a happy release. I trust you will nowabandon your wild scheme of teaching and come home."
But home was less home than ever to Isobel now, and she remained anothersix months at school, when she received an important letter from heruncle.
"My Dear Isobel: When you first wrote to me and told me that what youwere most looking forward to was to make a home for your brother, I ownthat it was a blow to me, for I had long had plans of my own about you;however, I thought your desire to help your brother was so natural, andwould give you such happiness in carrying it into effect, that I at oncefell in with it and put aside my own plan. But the case is altered now,and I can see no reason why I cannot have my own way. When I was inEngland I made up my mind that unless I married, which was a mostimprobable contingency, I would, when you were old enough, have youout to keep house for me. I foresaw, even then, that your brother mightprove an obstacle to this plan. Even in the short time I was with youit was easy enough to see that the charge of him would fall on yourshoulders, and that it would be a labor of love to you.
"If he lived, then, I felt you would not leave him, and that you wouldbe right in not doing so, but even then it seemed likely to me thathe would not grow up to manhood. From time to time I have been incorrespondence with the clergyman he was with, and learned that thedoctor who attended them thought but poorly of him. I had him takento two first class physicians in London; they pronounced him to beconstitutionally weak, and said that beyond strengthening medicines andthat sort of thing they could do nothing for him.
"Therefore, dear, it was no surprise to me when I received first yourmother's letter with the news, and then your own written a few dayslater. When I answered that letter I thought it as well not to sayanything of my plan, but by the time you receive this, it will be sixmonths since your great loss, and you will be able to look at it in afairer light than you could have done then, and I do hope you will agreeto come out to me. Life here has its advantages and disadvantages, but Ithink that, especially for young people, it is a pleasant one.
"I am getting very tired of a bachelor's establishment, and it will be avery great pleasure indeed to have you here. Ever since I was in EnglandI made up my mind to adopt you as my own child. You are very like mybrother John, and your letters and all I have heard of you show that youhave grown up just as he would have wished you to do. Your sister Helenais your mother's child, and, without wishing to hurt your feelings, yourmother and I have nothing in common. I regard you as the only relationI have in the world, and whether you come out or whether you do not,whatever I leave behind me will be yours. I do hope that you will at anyrate come out for a time. Later on, if you don't like the life here, youcan fall back upon your own plan.
"If you decide to come, write to my agent. I inclose envelope addressedto him. Tell him when you can be ready. He will put you in the way ofthe people you had better go to for your outfit, will pay all bills,take your passage, and so on.
"Whatever you do, do not stint yourself. The people you go to will knowa great deal better than you can do what is necessary for a lady outhere. All you will have to do will be to get measured and to give theman idea of your likes and fancies as to colors and so on. They will haveinstructions from my agent to furnish you with a complete outfit, andwill know exactly how many dozens of everything are required.
"I can see no reason why you should not start within a month after thereceipt of this letter, and I shall look most anxiously for a letterfrom you saying that you will come, and that you will start by a sailingship in a month at latest from the date of your writing."
Isobel did not hesitate, as her faith in her uncle was unbounded. Nextto her meetings with her brother, his letters had been her greatestpleasures. He had always taken her part; it was he who, at her request,had Robert placed at school, and he had kept her at Miss Virtue'sin spite of her mother's complaints. At home she had never feltcomfortable; it had always seemed to her that she was in the way;her mother disapproved of her; while from Helena she had never had asisterly word. To go out to India to see the wonders she had read of,and to be her uncle's companion, seemed a perfectly delightful prospect.Her answer to her uncle was sent off the day after she received hisletter, and that day month she stepped on board an Indiaman in theLondon Docks.
The intervening time had not been a pleasant one. Mrs. Hannay had heardfrom the Major of his wishes and intentions regarding Isobel, and shewas greatly displeased thereat.
"Why should he have chosen you instead of Helena?" she said angrily toIsobel, on the first day of her arrival home.
"I suppose because he thought I should suit him better, mamma. I reallydon't see why you should be upset about it; I don't suppose Helena wouldhave liked to go, and I am sure you would not have liked to have hadme with you instead of her. I should have thought you would have beenpleased I was off your hands altogether. It doesn't seem to me that youhave ever been really glad to have me about you."
"That has been entirely your own fault," Mrs. Hannay said. "You havealways been headstrong and determined to go your own way, you have neverbeen fit to be seen when anyone came, you hav
e thwarted me in everyway."
"I am very sorry, mamma. I think I might have been better if you had hada little more patience with me, but even now if you really wish me tostay at home I will do so. I can write again to uncle and tell him thatI have changed my mind."
"Certainly not," Mrs. Hannay said. "Naturally I should wish to have mychildren with me, but I doubt whether your being here would be for thehappiness of any of us, and besides, I do not wish your uncle's moneyto go out of the family; he might take it into his head to leave it toa hospital for black women. Still, it would have been only right andproper that he should at any rate have given Helena the first choice.As for your instant acceptance of his offer, without even consulting me,nothing can surprise me in that way after your general conduct towardsme."
However, although Mrs. Hannay declined to take any interest in Isobel'spreparations, and continued to behave as an injured person, neither shenor Helena were sorry at heart for the arrangement that had beenmade. They objected very strongly to Isobel's plan of going out as agoverness; but upon the other hand, her presence at home would in manyways have been an inconvenience. Two can make a better appearance ona fixed income than three can, and her presence at home would havenecessitated many small economies. She was, too, a disturbing element;the others understood each other perfectly, and both felt that they inno way understood Isobel. Altogether, it was much better that she shouldgo.
As to the heirship, Captain Hannay had spoken freely as to his monetaryaffairs when he had been in England after his brother's death.
"My pay is amply sufficient for all my wants," he said; "but everythingis expensive out there, and I have had no occasion to save. I have afew hundred pounds laid by, so that if I break down, and am ordered toEurope at any time on sick leave, I can live comfortably for that time;but, beyond that, there has been no reason why I should lay by. I amnot likely ever to marry, and when I have served my full time my pensionwill be ample for my wants in England; but I shall do my best to help ifhelp is necessary. Fortunately the interest of the thousand apiece thegirls were left by my aunt will help your income. When it is necessaryto do anything for Robert, poor lad, I will take that expense onmyself."
"I thought all Indians came home with lots of money," Mrs. Hannay saidcomplainingly.
"Not the military. We do the fighting, and get fairly paid for it. Thecivilians get five times as highly paid, and run no risks whatever. Whyit should be so no one has ever attempted to explain; but there it is,sister."
Mrs. Hannay, therefore, although she complained of the partiality shownto Isobel, was well aware that the Major's savings could amount to novery great sum; although, in nine years, with higher rank and betterpay, he might have added a good bit to the little store of which he hadspoken to her.
When, a week before the vessel sailed, Dr. Wade appeared with a letterhe had received from the Major, asking him to take charge of Isobel onthe voyage, Mrs. Hannay conceived a violent objection to him. He had, infact, been by no means pleased with the commission, and had arrived inan unusually aggressive and snappish humor. He cut short Mrs. Hannay'swell turned sentences ruthlessly, and aggrieved her by remarking onHelena's want of color, and recommending plenty of walking exercisetaken at a brisk pace, and more ease and comfort in the matter of dress.
"Your daughter's lungs have no room to play, madam," he said; "herheart is compressed. No one can expect to be healthy under suchcircumstances."
"I have my own medical attendant, Dr. Wade," Mrs. Hannay said decidedly.
"No doubt, madam, no doubt. All I can say is, if his recommendationsare not the same as mine, he must be a downright fool. Very well, MissHannay, I think we understand each other; I shall be on board by eleveno'clock, and shall keep a sharp lookout for you. Don't be later thantwelve; she will warp out of the dock by one at latest, and if you missthat your only plan will be to take the train down to Tilbury, and hirea boat there."
"I shall be in time, sir," Isobel said.
"Well, I hope you will, but my experience of women is pretty extensive,and I have scarcely met one who could be relied upon to keep anappointment punctually. Don't laden yourself more than you can help withlittle bags, and parcels, and bundles of all kinds; I expect you willbe three or four in a cabin, and you will find that there is no roomfor litter. Take the things you will require at first in one or twoflat trunks which will stow under your berth; once a week or so, if theweather is fine, you will be able to get at your things in the hold. Dotry if possible to pack all the things that you are likely to want toget at during the voyage in one trunk, and have a star or any markyou like painted on that trunk with your name, then there will be nooccasion for the sailors to haul twenty boxes upon deck. Be sure yousend all your trunks on board, except those you want in your cabin, twodays before she sails. Do you think you can remember all that?"
"I think so, Dr. Wade."
"Very well then, I'm off," and the Doctor shook hands with Isobel,nodded to Mrs. Hannay and Helena, and hurried away.
"What a perfectly detestable little man!" Mrs. Hannay exclaimed, as thedoor closed over him. "Your uncle must have been out of his senses toselect such an odious person to look after you on the voyage. I reallypity you, Isobel."
"I have no doubt he is very much nicer than he seems, mamma. Uncle said,you know, in his letter last week, that he had written to Dr. Wade tolook after me, if, as he thought probable, he might be coming out in thesame ship. He said that he was a little brusque in his manner, but thathe was a general favorite, and one of the kindest hearted of men."
"A little brusque," Mrs. Hannay repeated scornfully. "If he is onlyconsidered a little brusque in India, all I can say is society must bein a lamentable state out there."
"Uncle says he is a great shikari, and has probably killed more tigersthan any man in India."
"I really don't see that that is any recommendation whatever, Isobel,although it might be if you were likely to encounter tigers on boardship. However, I am not surprised that your opinion differs from mine;we very seldom see matters in the same light. I only hope you may beright and I may be wrong, for otherwise the journey is not likely to bea very pleasant one for you; personally, I would almost as soon havea Bengal tiger loose about the ship than such a very rude, unmannerlyperson as Dr. Wade."
Mrs. Hannay and Helena accompanied Isobel to the docks, and went onboard ship with her.
The Doctor received them at the gangway. He was in a better temper, forthe fact that he was on the point of starting for India again had puthim in high spirits. He escorted the party below and saw that they gotlunch, showed Isobel which was her cabin, introduced her to two or threeladies of his acquaintance, and made himself so generally pleasant thateven Mrs. Hannay was mollified.
As soon as luncheon was over the bell was rung, and the partingswere hurriedly got through, as the pilot announced that the tidewas slackening nearly half an hour before its time, and that it wasnecessary to get the ship out of dock at once.
"Now, Miss Hannay, if you will take my advice," the Doctor said, as soonas the ship was fairly in the stream, "you will go below, get out allthe things you will want from your boxes, and get matters tidy andcomfortable. In the first place, it will do you good to be busy; and inthe second place, there is nothing like getting everything shipshape inthe cabin the very first thing after starting, then you are ready forrough weather or anything else that may occur. I have got you a chair.I thought that very likely you would not think of it, and a passengerwithout a chair of her own is a most forlorn creature, I can tell you.When you have done down below you will find me somewhere aft; if youshould not do so, look out for a chair with your own name on it and takepossession of it, but I think you are sure to see me."
Before they had been a fortnight at sea Isobel came to like the Doctorthoroughly. He knew many of the passengers on board the Byculla, and shehad soon many acquaintances. She was amused at the description that theDoctor gave her of some of the people to whom he introduced her.
"I am going
to introduce you to that woman in the severely plain cloakand ugly bonnet. She is the wife of the Resident of Rajputana. I knewher when her husband was a Collector."
"A Collector, Dr. Wade; what did he collect?"
"Well, my dear, he didn't collect taxes or water rates or anythingof that sort. A Collector is a civil functionary, and frequentlyan important one. I used to attend her at one time when we were incantonments at Bhurtpore, where her husband was stationed at that time.I pulled a tooth out for her once, and she halloaed louder than anywoman I ever heard. I don't mean to say, my dear, that woman holloa anylouder than men; on the contrary, they bear pain a good deal better,but she was an exception. She was twelve years younger then, and usedto dress a good deal more than she does now. That cloak and bonnet aremeant to convey to the rest of the passengers the fact that there is nooccasion whatever for a person of her importance to attend to such pettymatters as dress.
"She never mentions her husband's name without saying, 'My husband, theResident,' but for all that she is a kind hearted woman--a very kindhearted woman. I pulled a child of hers through who was down withfever at Bhurtpore; he had a very close shave of it, and she has neverforgotten it. She greeted me when she came on board almost with tearsin her eyes at the thought of that time. I told her I had a young ladyunder my charge, and she said that she would be very pleased to doanything she could for you. She is a stanch friend is Mrs. Resident, andyou will find her useful before you get to the end of the voyage."
The lady received Isobel with genuine kindness, and took her very muchunder her wing during the voyage, and Isobel received no small advantagefrom her advice and protection.
Her own good sense, however, and the earnest life she had led at schooland with her brother at home, would have sufficed her even withoutthis guardianship and that of the Doctor. There was a straightforwardfrankness about her that kept men from talking nonsense to her. Acompliment she simply laughed at, an attempt at flattery made herangry, and the Doctor afterwards declared to her uncle he would not havebelieved that the guardianship of a girl upon the long Indian voyagecould possibly have caused him so little trouble and annoyance.
"When I read your letter, Major, my hair stood on end, and if my leavehad not been up I should have canceled my passage and come by the nextship; and indeed when I went down to see her I had still by no meansmade up my mind as to whether I would not take my chance of getting outin time by the next vessel. However, I liked her appearance, and, asI have said, it turned out excellently, and I should not mind makinganother voyage in charge of her."