sober costume of black and white, with white moss-roses binding the hair, which had begun, as red hair will, to shade toward auburn of late years. So apparelled, the two Miss Blakes went with Lady Tracy to a ball at the Sous-Préfecture; and Honor, to her own surprise, enjoyed herself exceedingly. She danced much during the evening, it is true, with her cousin Tom Tracy; but she also found several agreeable French partners, among them men who, though not the very youngest of the company, could talk agreeably on other subjects than millinery and gossip, and who were as much pleased as astonished to find a 'young girl' who could understand and respond to them. Monsieur le Souffleur was there, and passed her without recognition, but with not a pleasant glance. Honor tried to forget his presence. One day soon after she came in nearer contact with this gentleman. Lady Tracy had gone into the office of the firm of which he was an attaché to draw a cheque on her London bankers, and when on her way home she missed her cheque-book. Charlie volunteered to run back to the bank to look for it, while Honor and Lady Tracy retraced their steps more slowly. Before Charlie reached the bank, M. le Souffleur had found the cheque-book, and started with it to restore it to the owner. Charlie missed him by taking a short cut, and the gentleman came upon the two ladies in the Rue Porte St. Martin, and, with an elaborate bow, handed Lady Tracy her book. Honor was forced to bow. She did so, reddening awkwardly, and M. le Souffleur took his leave. Lady Tracy seemed about to ask the reason of her embarrassment, when Charlie came up and changed the conversation by telling how he had run into the post-office to ask for letters, and there were two from India for Lady Tracy, which the postmaster declined trusting to so young a messenger. 'I will go for them, aunt,' said Honor. Lady Tracy liked this title from her young cousins. When Honor returned with the letters Monsieur le Souffleur was forgotten. Lady Tracy remembered few other subjects on the days when she received her Indian letters. Most part of her own life had been spent in India; it was the birthplace alike of her dearest friendships and of her children, and now the homes of her two daughters and their children lay there. 'It is a sort of family fate,' said Tom Tracy one day to Honor. I often wonder how I have never found my way out there also. When once the destiny gets into a household, it seems as if every member must go in his or her turn. My sister Annie married a man in the Company's service, so of course we knew she would go to India; but Georgy's husband is a clergyman. He had a country parsonage in Leicestershire when they were married, but not two years after their marriage he got ill, and the doctors said he must not spend another winter in England. A friend of my mother's offered him an Indian chaplaincy, and though my mother was not in love with the idea, he would go. He is a fine fellow-one of a sort sadly needed out there: works with a will, and does a lot of good; but it was hard on my mother to send both her girls so far away.' 'Have you no other sisters ?' 'None living; my mother had eight children, but only we three are left.' Honor's eyes filled sympathetically. 'I had no idea she had had so much trouble.' 'No? I fancy few people have had more. Then she is so unselfish, so sympathetic. She is not a person to let her own troubles break her down.' 'Did they die very young ?' 'Some of them. One sister, the only girl besides Annie and Georgy, died before I was born,—a child in England, while my father and mother were in India. I believe I believe my mother felt that more than anything else, except perhaps Edward's death. Two others died, mere infants, in India, and another of my brothers was drowned bathing, while he and I were boys together at Eton.' 'Was that Edward?' 'No; that was a great blow to my mother, but Edward's death was worse. He was the eldest son, and—the family destiny-went to India in the Civil Service. He was very clever, and distinguished himself greatly. You know how much my mother cares for Indian politics, how she identifies herself with the public men there whom she esteems, and exults in their heroism. 'She used to be my father's right hand and secretary for many years, and caught the enthusiasm from him, I suppose. 'Poor Edward possessed all the qualities she most idolizes. It was not only she who thought it, men whose opinion is well worth having, held his death a national loss. He was sent home after a severe illness, caused by over-work, and died on the voyage. My mother has worn black ever since, and though she does not show it now, she has never forgotten him for an hour, I believe. It was partly this I think drew her to you all at first. She sympathized so much with your loss in your poor brother Richard.' 'What a sad place India seems!' said Honor, with tears in her eyes. Is it not? I often think so. There is so much separation, so many sudden deaths there, it is a very sad country to have anything to do with. I shall be glad to see Annie and Georgy and the young ones home next spring.' |