George Fenn - One Maid's Mischief

“Well, the fact is, Rajah,” said Mr Perowne, giving a laugh to clear his throat, “I have seen my daughter, and she asked me to tell you that she is suffering from a bad headache. You understand me?”

The young Rajah nodded, his eyes seeming to contract the while.

“She is of course very much flattered by your proposal – one which she says she will think over most carefully; but she is so surprised, that she can only ask you to give her time. I see you understand me?”

The Rajah nodded again in a quick, eager way.

“English girls do not say yea all at once to a proposal like yours; and if you will wait a few months – of course being good friends all the time – we shall be able to speak more about the subject.”

Mr Perowne, merchant, and man of the world, meant to say all this in a quick, matter-of-fact, frank way, but he stumbled, and spoke in a halting, lame fashion, growing more and more unsatisfactory as the young Malay prince came closer to him.

“I – I think you understand me,” he said, feeling called upon to say something, as the Malay glared at him as if about to spring.

“Yes – yes!” hissed the Malay. “Lies – all lies! I came for friend. You mock – you laugh in my face – but you do not know. I say I came for friend – I go away – enemy!”

He went on speaking rapidly in the Malay tongue, his rage seeming to be the more concentrated from the cold, cutting tone he adopted. Then, nearly closing his eyes, and giving his peculiar type of features a crafty, cat-like aspect, he gazed furiously at the merchant for a few minutes, and then turned, and seemed to creep from the house in a way that was as feline as his looks.

Mr Perowne drew his handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped the dew from his forehead.

“Good Heavens!” he ejaculated, “they assassinated poor Rodrick, and here is that girl only home for a few weeks, and a shock like this to come upon me! Surely I’ve troubles enough on hand without a worry like this!”

He walked to the window and saw the Malay prince entering his boat by the landing-place, where it was pushed off and pulled into mid-stream by a dozen stout rowers.

“The man’s mad with passion,” muttered Mr Perowne. “I would not have had it happen for all I possess. Women always were at the bottom of every bit of mischief, but I did not expect Helen would begin so soon.”

He had another look at the Rajah’s handsome boat, which took the place of a carriage in that roadless place, and saw that the Malay prince had turned and was gazing back.

“I don’t know what’s to be the end of all this, and – Oh, Harley! is that you? Come in.”

The Resident, looking rather troubled and anxious, came in through the veranda, gazing sharply at Mr Perowne.

“What has the Rajah been here for this morning?”

“What has he been here for?” cried Mr Perowne, angrily, and glad of someone upon whom he could let off a little of his rage. “Why, to do what you ought to have done in a downright way. I gave you leave, and you have done nothing but play with her.”

“He has not been to propose for Helen’s hand?”

“Indeed, but he has.”

“How unfortunate! I did not know that matters had gone so far as that?”

“Nor I neither. I knew she was flirting a bit, confound her. Did you meet him?”

“Yes, and he would not speak. I saw something was wrong from his savage manner.”

“Perhaps he thought you had come up to propose, eh? Had you?”

“Not exactly,” said the Resident, looking very serious.

“Because if you had, you ought to have come before,” said Mr Perowne, biting his nails.

“I came to remonstrate with Helen, after seeing Mrs Bolter this morning.”

“Hang Mrs Bolter for a meddling little fool,” cried the merchant.

“She drew my attention to the serious dangers that might ensue if Helen led this man on. I ought to have foreseen it, but I did not, and that’s the most troublous part of it. I ought to have known better,” cried the Resident, biting his lips.

“Oh, it’s very easy to talk,” said Mr Perowne, whose previous night’s blandness seemed to be quite gone, to leave a weak, querulous childishness in its place.

“Knowing what I do of the Malay character, Perowne, I ought to have watched her, but I confess I was so wrapped up in my own feelings that I did not think.”

“I thought you wanted to marry her, I gave you my consent at once. I told you nothing would please me better,” continued the father, querulously; “but ever since you both landed you seem to have done nothing but shilly-shally.”

“Don’t talk like that, Perowne,” said the Resident, impatiently. “A man does not take a wife like you make a bargain. I want to win her love as well as have her hand.”

“And you hang back – I’ve seen you – and let these other fellows cut you out. Hilton and Chumbley, and then this Rajah. I say – I must say, Harley, it is much too bad.”

“Yes, yes, I have done as you say; but I had a reason for it, Perowne, I had indeed; but I find I can manage natives better than a beautiful girl. If I had foreseen – ”

“If I had foreseen it,” cried Perowne, interrupting, “I’d have had her kept in England. Confound the girl!”

“It never occurred to me,” said the Resident, “though it ought, that danger might arise from her flirtations.”

“Danger! Why I shall lose thousands!” cried Perowne. “The fellow will never forgive me, and throw endless obstacles in my way with his people.”

“Helen refused him, of course?” said the Resident.

“Of course – of course,” said the merchant, pettishly.

“I blame myself deeply for not being more observant,” said the Resident. “Others have seen what I failed to see, and it was always so. Lookers-on see most of the game; but I am awake to the danger now.”

“Danger? danger?” said Perowne, looking up now in a startled way. “Do you think there is danger? I hope not; but we ought to be prepared. What do you think it will be best to do?”

“See Hilton, and tell him to double all guards; fill your revolver with cartridges; and be always on the alert. We must make no show of begin in danger, but go on as usual, while reinforcements are quietly sent for from Singapore.”

“Do – do you think it will be as bad as that?”

“Worse, for aught I know,” said the Resident, bitterly. “That fellow, with all his smoothness and French polish, may turn out, now he is thwarted, a perfect demon. Perowne, we have contrived to make him our bitterest foe.”

“But – but it couldn’t be helped, Harley,” said Perowne, in an apologetic tone. “Helen could not – ”

“Suppose you leave Miss Perowne’s name out of the question, Mr Perowne,” said the Resident, sternly. “I’ll go on and see Hilton now, and we must do the best we can.”

It cannot be denied that Mrs Bolter’s mature little heart had developed, with an intense love and admiration of her lord, a good deal of acidity, such as made her jealous, exacting, and tyrannical to a degree.

Let it not be supposed, however, that the doctor was unhappy. Quite the contrary; he seemed to enjoy his tyrant’s rule, and to go on peaceably enough, letting her dictate, order, and check him at her own sweet will.

“There’s no doubt about it,” chuckled the little doctor to himself, “she’s as jealous as Othello, and watches me like an – an – an – well – say eagle,” he said, quite at a loss for a simile. “I don’t mind, bless her! Shows how fond she has grown; and I suppose it must be worrying to the dear little woman to have first one and then another lady sending for me. I don’t wonder at her asking me what they wanted. I shouldn’t like it if gentlemen were always sending for her.”