They resigned their buggy to the care of a black boy in the horse-paddock, and as they approached the house, the Secretary explained to Gwynne-Harden all the good things he knew of the owner and his wife.

He devoted considerable s.p.a.ce to his description of the latter, and in answer the banker smiled grimly.

Leaving the small flower-garden behind them, they enter a cool stone verandah, where a lady rises from a long cane chair to greet them. The Colonial Secretary dashes forward to take her hand....

_Colonial Secretary_ ... "Mr. Gwynne-Harden--Mrs. Chichester."

_Mrs. Chichester_ (as white as a ghost, vainly feeling for the wall behind her with her left hand, while she fumbles at her collar with her right): "Mr. Gwynne-Harden!" (Then slowly and with prodigious exertion): "I--I--I'm--I hope you are very well."

_Mr. Gwynne-Harden_ (with a curious expression in his face, which the Colonial Secretary attributes to nervousness): "Extremely well, I thank you!"

_Colonial Secretary_: "I am looking forward to having the pleasure of introducing Mr. Gwynne-Harden to your husband, Mrs. Chichester."

_Mrs. Chichester_ (with a supreme effort): "I'm sorry to say my husband is camped on the run at present."

_Mr. Gwynne-Harden_: "Then I must await his return with proper patience.

_I shall be delighted to meet him, I am sure._ Mrs. Chichester, is anything the matter?"

_Mrs. Chichester_ (still fumbling at her neck): "No, no--r--r--really nothing. I feel the heat very much, that is all. Won't you come inside?"

(Rises and leads the way into the dining-room, where she unlocks a sideboard, and puts whisky on the table.) "I'm sure you must need some refreshment after your long and hot drive."

_Colonial Secretary_ (enthusiastically, pointing to a creeper through the door).... "By Jove! look here, Harden; isn't this perfect? I challenge you to find its equal anywhere--the _Buginvillea Speciosa_ in all its glory. Ah! I beg your pardon, Mrs. Chichester."

_Mrs. Chichester_ (pa.s.sing him): "Thank you. If you will excuse me, I think I will go and see about your rooms." [_Exits across verandah._]

The Colonial Secretary solemnly takes to himself a whisky-peg, while Gwynne-Harden, turning his back, fixes his eye-gla.s.s and critically examines two photos on the mantelpiece.

_Colonial Secretary_ (warmly, referring to their hostess): "Egad, Harden, what would many men give for a wife like that?"

_Mr. Gwynne-Harden_ (dropping his eye-gla.s.s, and facing round): "What, indeed!"

They adjourn to the verandah, where enter to them a small and very dirty child, presumably a boy, who scrutinizes both men carefully before venturing near.

_Mr. Gwynne-Harden_: "Ah, my little man, and pray what may your name be?"

_Child_: "Jack 'Ister."

_Colonial Secretary_: "Anglise--Jack Chichester. He is a fine boy, and typical of the country. Come here, Jack. How old are you?"

_Child_: "I'se free--Baby's one."

_Mr. Gwynne-Harden_: "So there's a baby, too, eh?"

_Mrs. Chichester_ (appearing at the end of the verandah): "Jack, it's your bed-time. Say good-night, and come along at once."

Jack goes to Gwynne-Harden, and holds up his face to be kissed; but the honour is declined. The Colonial Secretary accepts it effusively. Then mother and child disappear together.

_Colonial Secretary_ (laughingly): "You don't seem fond of kissing children!"

_Mr. Gwynne-Harden_: "Not other people's children, thank you!"

_Colonial Secretary_ (who has never heard the scandal, to himself): "I wonder if there's a Mrs. Gwynne-Harden?"

_The quarter of an hour preceding dinner._ Gwynne-Harden is standing with his hands on the chimney-piece, looking into the empty fireplace.

To him enter Mrs. Chichester.

_Mrs. Chichester_ (advancing): "George! George--for myself I ask nothing; but for my children's sakes. Oh, George, be merciful!"

_Mr. Gwynne-Harden_ (turning): "Mrs. Chichester, I beg your pardon ten thousand times for not seeing you enter. This light is so deceptive, perhaps you thought I was your husband!"

_Mrs. Chichester_: "George, have you forgotten me?"

_Mr. Gwynne-Harden_: "My dear _Mrs. Chichester_, pray let me turn up the lamp, then you will see whom you are addressing. I am Mr. Gwynne-Harden, and if you will pardon my saying so, I don't remember ever having seen your face before. If I have, I have been rude enough to forget the circ.u.mstance. _Your husband's_ acquaintance I shall----"

_Mrs. Chichester_: "What of my husband?"

_Mr. Gwynne-Harden_: "Only that I shall hope to meet him face to face very soon."

Enter the Colonial Secretary simultaneously with dinner.

_10 p.m., the same evening. Scene--Gwynne-Harden's bedroom._ He divests himself of his coat and waistcoat, and having done so, discovers a note addressed to himself upon the table. He reads it, and then looks long and fixedly at his own reflection in the gla.s.s.

_Mr. Gwynne-Harden_ (tearing the note into a hundred pieces): "Humph!

This is certainly the Nineteenth Century--well, I'll sleep on it."

Next morning the Colonial Secretary and his companion, without any apparent reason, changed their plans and continued their journey. When the buggy was at the door and the latter came to bid his hostess farewell, he said,--

"I am very sorry that we are compelled to go, for I shall not have an opportunity now of meeting your husband, Mrs. Chichester. And as I leave for England in a month, _it is improbable that we shall ever meet_!"

To this speech Mrs. Chichester, so the Colonial Secretary thought, rather illogically said,--

"G.o.d bless you!"

OTHER PUBLICATIONS

WORKS BY GUY BOOTHBY