"Who is your chaperone?" he asked. "Where do you think we can find her?"

"Mrs Edmonstone," she answered. "Mamma was unwell, and papa could not come till late in the evening, and so she took charge of me. She is one of the few ladies we know well in Calcutta, and whom mamma liked to ask to take her place. Ah, there she comes: she will, I am sure, thank you, as I do, for saving me from so very disagreeable an accident."

"I rejoice that you escaped it," answered Morton before he looked up; when he did so he saw approaching them the very lady with whom Glover seemed to be so well acquainted: she now had his arm.

"That is Mrs Edmonstone," said Morton's companion. "There are two seats; she is going to take one. I am afraid I must sit down."

Morton led her to the seat next her friend, and would have retired, though most unwilling so to do, when Glover caught him by the arm, exclaiming, "Mr Morton, allow me to introduce you to my cousin, Mrs Edmonstone--she wishes to make your acquaintance; she knows that if it had not been for you, I should have been food for the sharks long ago."

d.i.c.ky had indeed been saying a number of complimentary things about Morton, which he fully deserved. Mrs Edmonstone held out her hand and said frankly, "I am indeed glad to have an opportunity of thanking you for saving my cousin's life, and affording him the advantage of your friendship; your name, and, I may say, your many gallant deeds, have long been familiar to me: all his family are grateful to you."

Morton bowed and felt gratified, for Mrs Edmonstone's manner was so frank and cordial that he experienced none of the oppression which a sensitive person is apt to feel when receiving compliments, however well merited, if not bestowed with tact. She, supposing naturally that he had already been introduced to her younger companion, did not think it necessary again to go through that ceremony.

Encouraged by her manner, Morton remained talking in an animated way to her and her friend, Glover standing by and occasionally indulging in amusing remarks, which savoured more of the salt ocean than of the ball-room, but had no want of refinement to shock the ears of his auditors. Morton felt himself altogether in a new world; it was not very strange, but it was very different to anything he had ever before enjoyed; he put forth powers of conversation which he had not supposed himself to possess. He also was struck with the lively and intelligent remarks of the younger lady, and at the same time enchanted with the perfect simplicity which they betokened.

"Certainly her manners and conversation do not belie her looks; she is charming, she is perfect," he more than once said to himself.

Few men can so conceal their feelings, especially if they are not aware what those feelings are, when in conversation with a lady, without her having an idea, undefined and uncertain though it may be, of the matter.

The party were so interested in each other's conversation that they might have continued talking till supper was announced, entirely regardless of what was going forward in the rest of the room, had they not been interrupted by the appearance of another person on the stage, who came up to claim the young lady's hand.

He was slight and, though not very tall, of a good figure, with handsome features, and a remarkably dark complexion; he was dressed in a rich semi-oriental military costume, and had a dashing independent air about him, which Morton thought approached very much to a swagger, but perhaps at that moment he was not a very unprejudiced judge. Ronald could not help staring at him in a somewhat marked manner.

"Extraordinary!" he exclaimed to himself, "that I should come unexpectedly into this ball-room and meet two persona with whose countenances I am so familiar, and yet not have the slightest notion who they are. That young man's face I know perfectly well; I must have met him over and over again, in a very different dress to what he now wears, and under very different circ.u.mstances, and I must have known him intimately, of that I am certain."

"Do you not dance, Mr Morton?" asked Mrs Edmonstone, seeing him look about the room, as he was doing, in an abstracted manner, and fancying that he wished probably to be introduced to a partner. The instant her voice recalled his scattered senses, "Thank you," he answered; "I so seldom have had opportunities of doing so that I can scarcely call myself a dancer; at present I confess that I feel more amus.e.m.e.nt in looking on than I should in dancing."

"Can you tell me," said Morton, "who is that young man in the handsome costume, who is dancing with your friend?"

"I can indeed say very little about him," was the answer. "He is a Captain Gerardo, I understand,--a foreigner, that is to say, not English; either a Frenchman, or Spaniard, or Portuguese. He has been attached to one of the native courts in the East--I do not know which-- and has come here on his travels before returning home. He seems to have come with several good introductions, especially to natives of high rank, and must be wealthy, as he is lavish in his expenditure. My husband, however, is not quite satisfied about him, and is making inquiries to ascertain whether or not he is an impostor. Numbers come to this country expecting to find a fine field for the exercise of their talents. They now and then, however, have to beat a precipitate retreat. I would not willingly have allowed my sweet friend, Edda, to dance with him, but he has been introduced to her father, who rather affects him, and I could not interfere."

"Edda!" repeated Ronald to himself, the name conjuring up a thousand recollections of his far-distant home, for he had there heard it frequently. "What is your friend's surname?" he asked; "I did not hear it."

"She is the daughter of Colonel and Mrs Armytage, who are at present in Calcutta. He is on the staff--a somewhat haughty, proud man, and not a favourite of mine, but she is a gentle, amiable woman; only yields too much to him, I think."

"How strange!" repeated Ronald aloud.

"Do you know them, Mr Morton?" she asked.

"If Mrs Armytage is the daughter of Sir Marcus Wardhill, of Lunnasting Castle, in Shetland, I know of them, though I have not seen her since I was a child. I was born on the estate, and brought up by her elder sister, who had lost her own child. Her story is a very romantic and sad one. You probably have heard of it."

"Something, but I do not recollect all the particulars; Edda herself knows but little. The families keep up no communication, I fancy."

"But slight," said Morton, not liking to enter too minutely into particulars, and yet deeply interested. "I have news from Shetland occasionally, but I have not been there since I was a boy."

"Shall I tell Miss Armytage that you know her family?" asked Mrs Edmonstone, with some hesitation.

Ronald considered a moment. "I will beg you not to do so," he answered.

"There can be no object gained. She knows nothing of my family, and probably takes but little interest in Shetland itself, while I have reason to know that her father has not for many years been on good terms with Sir Marcus Wardhill."

"Probably you are right; I will do as you wish," said the lady, and she kept her word.

Supper was over, and the guests began to take their departure. Morton and Glover saw Mrs Edmonstone and Miss Armytage to their carriage, and were going back to wait for the rest of their shipmates, when a young man in military uniform stepped up to the former, and, politely bowing, said that he had been deputed by his friend, Lieutenant Maguire, to demand the only reparation which one gentleman could afford another, for an insult he had that evening received.

"a.s.suredly, sir, you mistake my ident.i.ty," answered Morton, calmly. "I am not acquainted with Lieutenant Maguire, nor have I insulted, intentionally or otherwise, any human being."

"Some people entertain very different notions to others as to what is an insult," said the officer, with a sneer, intended to excite Morton's anger. "My friend Maguire is exceedingly sensitive as to his honour.

Not to lose time, sir, by any circ.u.mlocution in my remarks, you are, sir, I am led to understand, Lieutenant Morton, of his Majesty's frigate 'Thisbe'?"

"I am, sir," said Morton; "your information on that point is correct."

"I knew I was right, sir," said the young officer, with a bullying air, mistaking a look of astonishment, which Morton could not suppress, for an exhibition of fear. "Mr Maguire conceives that early this evening you purposely tripped him up, and when you had brought him to the ground, you carried off his partner and laughed at him. Any one of these acts, sir, was an insult, to be washed out only with blood, as any man with a spark of honour in his composition will allow."

Morton, though very much inclined to laugh at this absurd a.s.sertion, felt at the same time it was annoying. The only reply he could give was, that the young man was tipsy, and fell in consequence, and that he had nothing whatever to do with the matter. This answer would not be satisfactory to the gentleman who had brought the challenge. Still, it seemed too preposterous that he should allow himself to be drawn into a quarrel, against his will, by hair-brained young men who had lost the few wits they possessed by drinking. His own high sense of honour had never before been called in question--his gallantry had always been conspicuous.

"I cannot reply to you at once," he answered quietly, turning to Lieutenant Maguire's second. "Leave me your card and address, and I promise you you shall hear from me. Perhaps, in the meantime, your friend and his advisers may think better of the matter, and, at all events, you can convey him my a.s.surance that I had no intention of insulting him, or of hurting his feelings in any way."

"Well, sir, I must be content with your reply, though I cannot say that I conceive it to be a very satisfactory one. My name is Bolton, a brother officer of Maguire's. Here is my card and address. I shall expect your friend." Saying this, the young man, with a pompous air, turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

"This is indeed provoking, to have a quarrel thus pertinaciously fixed on me," said Morton, taking Glover's arm. "I must see the captain, and put the matter into his hands."

Morton told Captain Calder what had occurred.

He looked considerably vexed, though he laughed as he answered, "I will act as your friend, as it is called, with all my heart, and go and see these young donkeys. If they insist on fighting, it shall be with cutla.s.ses or boat stretchers. Do they think sailors are accustomed to handle their little pop-guns, and practise to commit murder with a steady hand? But seriously, my dear Morton, what do you wish?"

"To abide by G.o.d's laws, Captain Calder, and to set at nought those of men," answered the lieutenant.

"Spoken like yourself, Morton, and I have no fear that discredit will be brought on the service if we all so act," said the captain. "And now let us collect our forces, and beat a retreat to our quarters."

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

PARTY AT MRS. EDMONSTONE'S--INTRODUCTION TO COLONEL ARMYTAGE--VISIT TO THE "OSTERLEY"--THE "THISBE" ORDERED TO BOMBAY.

Morton had been antic.i.p.ating a delightful day: he was to have called, with Glover, on Mrs Edmonstone, and he hoped to have met Miss Armytage, who was staying with her; but his first thought on waking was the disagreeable circ.u.mstance which had occurred at the conclusion of the previous evening, and the still more disagreeable events to which it would in all probability give rise.

He was well aware how much the line of conduct he intended to pursue would be criticised, how the story would be garbled and misrepresented, and how, in all probability, he would be accused of showing the white feather. Under ordinary circ.u.mstances he would have been very indifferent to what was said of him: he could well afford to allow idle tongues to prattle forth slander about him till weary of the occupation, but he could not bear to fancy that Mrs Edmonstone, or rather her friend, should hear anything to his disadvantage which he might not be present to refute; still, happily, he had not forgotten Bertha Eswick's remark, impressed on his mind in childhood--"Do what is right, lad, and never mind what men say of thee."

The temptation of meeting Miss Armytage was at last too strong to be resisted, and with his captain and brother officers he repaired in the evening to the house of Mrs Edmonstone. Their hostess received them in the most friendly manner, and introduced them to several of her friends, so that they at once felt themselves at home. Morton's eyes ranged round the room in search of Miss Armytage; she was nowhere to be seen.

He longed to ask Mrs Edmonstone where she was, but he was withheld by a feeling of bashfulness very unusual with him. Numberless fears entered his mind. Was she prevented by illness from appearing--had her father heard who he was, and kept her away that she might not meet him; or had Colonel Armytage been suddenly called away to another part of the country, and had his daughter accompanied him?

That the latter suspicion was correct he was convinced by overhearing the disjointed remarks of some people near him: "Great loss to our society--quite unexpected--very charming woman--sweet girl, the daughter. About him--two opinions--proud--"

The speakers moved on. Morton was convinced that the sweet girl must refer to Miss Armytage--surely to no one else. But then came the thought that he was not to see her that evening--perhaps he might never again meet her. The pain and disappointment he felt opened his eyes more rapidly than anything else would have done to his own feelings. As to enjoying the evening, that was out of the question. Still it would be a satisfaction to hear something about her. He would inquire where Colonel Armytage had gone. He was looking round for Mrs Edmonstone, as he felt that he could ask her better than any one else, when his heart gave an unwonted bound, for he saw entering the room, and leaning on the arm of a fine military-looking man, whom he had no doubt was her father, Miss Armytage herself. On the other side of her, endeavouring to engage her in conversation, walked the stranger whom Glover thought so like Alfonse Gerardin. The resemblance struck Morton, as his glance fell on his countenance, as even greater than on the previous evening. Miss Armytage seemed rather annoyed than otherwise with his attentions. As Morton had been walking forward when he first saw the group he could not stop short, so he continued to advance. The young lady put out her hand frankly, though a gentle blush rose on her cheeks as she did so.

"Papa," she said, "I must introduce Mr Morton to you. I am sure that you wish to thank him for the service he rendered me yesterday evening."

Colonel Armytage bowed, and a.s.sured Mr Morton that he was exceedingly obliged to him; but he said this in a stiff way, which evidently annoyed his daughter.