CHAPTER XXIX.
MARK JERVIS IS UNMASKED.
At nine o’clock—Indian balls are punctual and early—many lights were to be seen converging in all directions towards the club. The oldest inhabitant scarcely recognized it, it was so completely metamorphosed, and turned back to front and upside down. The general effect was dazzling—Persian carpets, rich draperies, Chinese lanterns, Japanese screens, great palms, abounded in the verandahs, and the ball-room was a blaze of candles, mirrors, and pink muslin. The reception rooms were blocked up by girls and men, busy with programmes and pencils.
Among the girls, no one was so closely besieged as Honor Gordon. She was looking quite lovely, in a new white ball-dress, with a diamond star among her dark locks (Uncle Pelham’s birthday gift). As for Mrs. Brande, in a black gown, no one had ever seen her attired to such advantage. She was both handsome and dignified in her velvet and diamonds, so different to her usual parti-coloured “reach-me-down” costumes. Honor had composed the costume, and it did her credit.
Dancing commenced with all the go and briskness of a hill ball. There were no lazy, lounging men in doorways, and but few wallflowers; moreover, there were a good many new faces, and not a few pretty new frocks. It was going to be a brilliant success.
“I have come to Shirani for six seasons,” said Mrs. Brande to Mark (they were sitting out a dance), “and I ought to know the club well. But I give you my word I don’t know which room I am in!” (A higher compliment was impossible.) “I have never seen anything like this! Where did you get such grand ideas? and such extravagant notions, eh? for I may say that you have managed this ball.”
Mark laughed rather constrainedly, and made no reply.
“So I hear your cousin is engaged to Miss Potter?” continued the lady.
“So I am told—but not by himself. I rather expected him here to-night.”
“Money to money, of course,” pursued the matron, discontentedly; “and poverty marries poverty. There is Honor—she is so afraid of what people may think, that she is barely civil to any one who has a penny beyond his pay. She is downright stand-off with Sir Gloster and Captain Waring. She will marry a pauper, of course, if she ever marries, and be poor and proud till she goes down to her grave!”
Mark’s eyes followed Mrs. Brande’s fond glance, and rested on a radiant vision with laughing eyes, who was endeavouring to arrange a dispute between two partners. She did not give one the impression of being either poor or proud, at present.
Yes, the dance was going off splendidly. The new-comers had all been provided with partners; the refreshments were perfect; there was not too much salt in the ices, or sugar in the cup. The setting-out arrangements were greatly appreciated, and the excellent band was sober to a man.
One of the strangers had been waltzing with Honor Gordon; he was a brisk young fellow, who was going to be something some day, and was seeing the world as a preliminary step. He kept his eyes open, and carried a note-book, and had run up to Shirani in order to visit his brother, and gather statistics and local colour. As they came to a halt, he panted out rather breathlessly—
“So you have got that fellow Jervis here?” nodding to where he was standing, exactly opposite. “Jervis, the millionaire, as of course you know?”
“Oh no; it is his cousin, Captain Waring, who goes by that name.”
“He certainly was giving that impression at Simla, and was about to be engaged to an heiress on the strength of it; but I put a stop to his game,” said the little man, complacently.
“You did! And may I ask why?” regarding him with great astonishment.
“Why? Why should I not expose an impostor?”
“I think we must be at cross purposes, and speaking of different people,” said the young lady, rather stiffly.
“I think not; but we can go into that later. Do not let us lose this capital waltz.”
When they had taken two more turns round the room, they came to a halt, and he suddenly recommenced—
“Waring has not a penny to bless himself with. Nothing but debts. He left the Rutlands a ruined man, ruined by his own folly.”
“And Mr. Jervis?”
“Is the rich young man,” he rejoined impressively.
His companion’s incredulity was so plainly depicted on her countenance, that he added—
“Yes, I am not joking. That good-looking young fellow over there, near the door, who is talking to the girl in pink. I came out with him on board ship last October. He and Waring were going to do a tour—Waring was a sort of companion, and genteel courier. I must say that the young fellow was shamefully mobbed by a lot of snobs, who believed him to be a second Count de Monte Christo. He is really the adopted son of a rich City man, called Pollitt—Pollitt’s barley, you know,” with an explanatory nod—“and he will probably have an immense fortune. He is naturally fond of a quiet life, and seemed to loathe all display or ostentation. Some of the women drove him to sit all day in the smoking-room. They accompanied him fore and aft, and even down to the engine-room. For, you see, he is a good-looking, gentlemanly boy; none of the poultry grain about him, eh?”
Honor felt as if she was in a dream; her head was reeling. All her ideas about the position of the two cousins were thus suddenly reversed. The news was indeed a revelation, and extremely difficult to realize.
“I suppose you are quite in earnest,” she faltered at last. “But do you know, that Captain Waring and Mr. Jervis were here together for weeks, and neither of them ever gave us a hint of your version of the story. It was Captain Waring who made plans, entertained, and lavished money—”
“Yes, he was always a first-class hand at that! He spent Jervis’s money, I do assure you. Jervis lay low for the sake of a quiet life; he has no expensive tastes. But it was all a plant!”
“Then, if what you tell me is correct, I think I should call it a shameful hoax,” said the young lady, inwardly writhing under the sting of many memories. “It was abominably deceitful of Mr. Jervis.”
“Did he ever tell you or any one that he was a pauper?”
“No!” she admitted reluctantly. “I cannot say that he did; but he acted the part, which was all the same.”
“Ah, my dear Miss Gordon, surely you have often heard that appearances are deceitful. Positively you seem quite annoyed to find that Jervis is a very rich man.”
“I am,” she rejoined with indescribable dignity.
“Your state of mind is deliciously unique! How would it have been, had he pretended to be rich, and turned out to be a beggar?” And he eyed her with irritating steadiness.
“He has taken us all in; it was too bad of him! And if he is so wealthy, what can have detained him at Shirani? He has been here more than two months, and seems to be a fixture. He came in April, and has never left the station for a day. Every one thought it was because he could not afford to move about. What does it mean?” and she in her turn surveyed him with searching eyes.
“Ah!” with a laugh, “that riddle is quite beyond me; but I think, if you were to apply to some young lady in Shirani, she might answer the question. Let me suggest his present partner, the girl in pink?”
END OF VOL. II.