The Magnificent Montez | Page 7

the long voyage to Southampton was a Lieutenant Thomas James, a debonair young officer of the Bengal Infantry, who made himself very agreeable to her and with whom he exchanged many confidences. He was going home on a year's sick leave; and at the suggestion of his ship-board acquaintance he decided to spend the first month of it in Bath.
"It's time I settled down," he said. "Who knows, but I might pick up a wife in Bath and take her back to India with me."
"Who knows," agreed Mrs. Craigie, her match-making instincts aroused. "Bath is full of pretty girls."
The meeting between mother and daughter developed very differently from the lines on which she had planned it. Contrary to what she had expected, Lola did not evince any marked readiness to fall in with them. Quite undazzled by the prospects of becoming Lady Lumley, and reclining on Sir Abraham's elderly bosom, she even went so far as to dub the learned judge a "gouty old rascal," and declared that nothing would induce her to marry him. Neither reproaches nor arguments had any effect. Nor would she exhibit the smallest interest in the trousseau for which (but without her knowledge) lavish orders had been given.
Poor Mrs. Craigie could scarcely believe her ears. For a daughter to run counter to the wishes of her mother, and to snap her fingers at the chance of marrying a "title," was something she had considered impossible. What on earth were girls coming to, she wondered. Either the Paris "finishing school" or the Bath air had gone to her head. The times were out of joint, and the theory that daughters did what they were told was being rudely upset. It was all very disturbing.
In her astonishment and annoyance, Mrs. Craigie took to her bed. However, she did not stop there long, for prompt measures had to be adopted. As it was useless to tackle Sir Jasper Nicolls (whom she held responsible for the upset to her plans) she sought counsel of somebody else. This was her military friend, who, as luck would have it, was still lingering in Bath, where he had evidently discovered some special attraction. After all, he was a "man of the world" and would know what to do. Accordingly, she summoned him to a consultation, and unburdened her mind on the subject of Lola's "oddness."
"Of course, the girl's mad," she declared. "Nothing else would account for it. Can you imagine any girl in her senses turning up her nose at such a match? I never heard such rubbish. I'm sure I don't know what Sir Abraham will say. He expects her to join him in Calcutta by the end of the year. As a matter of fact, I've already booked her passage. The wedding is to be from our house there. Something will have to be done. The question is, what?"
"Leave it to me," was the airy response. "I'll talk to her."
Thomas James did "talk." He talked to some effect, but not at all in the fashion Mrs. Craigie had intended. Expressing sympathy with Lola, he declared himself entirely on her side. She was much too young and pretty and attractive, he said, to dream for an instant of marrying a man who was old enough to be her grandfather, and bury herself in India. The idea was ridiculous. He had a much better plan to offer. When Lola, smiling through her tears, asked him what it was, he said that she must run away with him and they would get married. Thus the problem of her future would be solved automatically.
The luxuriant whiskers and dashing air of Lieutenant Thomas James did their work. Further, the suggestion was just the sort of thing that happened to heroines in novels. Lola Gilbert, young and romantic and inexperienced, succumbed. Watching her opportunity, she slipped out of the house early the next morning. Her lover had a post-chaise in readiness, and they set off in it for Bristol. There they took the packet and crossed over to Ireland, where James had relatives, who, he promised, would look after her until their marriage should be accomplished.
"Elopement in High Life!" A tit-bit of gossip for the tea-tables and for the bucks at the clubs. No longer a sleepy hollow. Bath was in the "news."
It was not until they were gone that Mrs. Craigie discovered what had happened. Her first reaction was one of furious indignation. This, however, was natural, for not only had her ambitious project gone astray, but she had been deceived by the very man she had trusted. It was more than enough to upset anybody, especially as she was also confronted with the unpleasant task of writing to Sir Abraham Lumley, and telling him what had happened. As a result, she announced that she