The Road to Mandalay | Page 5

Douglas,
who arrived just in time for the end. Poor boy! He feels it terribly."
"Yes," assented Miss Mitty, "Douglas and his father were such friends.
The loss of money will make a sad difference to him. There will be no
going into the Army now, no more hunting and cricket; he will have to
take a clerkship. Did you see him?"
"Yes. He and my Freddy are great pals, so I know him pretty well. I
declare he gave me a shock, he looked utterly heart-broken; and he said:
'It is so sudden, so frightfully sudden--about the pater; the money may
come back somehow or other, but he is gone for ever; I'll never see him
again. If he had only known me--or spoken to me!' And then he just
laid his head upon his arms and sobbed like a girl."
"And Mrs. Shafto, how does she bear this double loss?" inquired Miss
Jane magisterially.

"She had one fit of screaming hysterics after another. If you ask me, I
believe it's the money that touches her most keenly; my husband
begged me to go up this morning, and see if I could do anything. She
has no intimate friends here, and I have sent to Mrs. Boomer and Mrs.
Jake; they will be over from Bricklands immediately. The doctor has
given a certificate, and has undertaken to see about the funeral, and sent
the notice to the Times and Morning Post. From what old Hannah told
me, it seems that Mr. Shafto and his family were not on terms; I believe
the quarrel had something to do"--she paused and glanced from one to
the other of her eager listeners--"with Mrs. Shafto, and I am not
surprised. They did not approve of the marriage--it was a mistake."
"I'm afraid it was," agreed Miss Mitty briskly; "they never appeared a
well-matched couple; he, so reserved and aristocratic, and she such a
gabbling, fluffy, restless creature--crazy about bridge and dress. I
wonder who she was?"
"I can tell you that!" was Mrs. Billing's unexpected reply. "Mr. Shafto
was a Fellow of his College at Oxford, wealthy and distinguished--he
had taken no end of honours. He was hooked--there is no other word
for it--by the niece of a local book-seller! He was an important
customer, and the girl always contrived to be there, when he came in
and out, and was so sympathetic, and bright and lively, as well as being
uncommonly pretty, that the poor man lost his head and, with very little
pressure from the uncle, married her. It was all scrambled up in a hurry,
before his friends could turn round, or interfere. Of course he had to
resign his fellowship and his beautiful rooms overlooking the garden,
and he took his bride abroad. His relations dropped him and he dropped
his Oxford friends; then he went and settled in the north. He must have
lived there for years; his next move was here."
"And have you always known this?" demanded Miss Mitty, her
countenance expressing injury and jealousy. Fancy Mrs. Billing
knowing this story all that time and keeping it to herself; how sly!
"Oh, only lately," replied the visitor in an apologetic key; "an old aunt
of mine lives in Oxford, and I met her in town last Easter. Somehow
the name of Shafto cropped up, and I heard the whole tale. I told my

husband and he said I'd better hold my tongue, and so I have, until now,
when it's of no consequence who knows--as of course 'Littlecote' must
be given up, and the Shaftos will go away."
"Well, we have often wondered who she was? and how Shafto--who
looked like a duke--came to marry her," said Miss Tebbs; "such an odd,
flighty, uncertain sort of creature, always for strangers, instead of her
home. That poor boy never saw much of his mother; I believe he was
hustled off to a preparatory school when he was about seven, and when
he happened to be here for his holidays it was his father who took him
about. I am very sorry for Douglas, a handsome, cheery, nice fellow,"
she continued, "always with a pleasant word, even for an old woman
like me. The rectory lads and the Tremenheeres just love him!"
"Luckily there are no girls at the rectory," remarked Miss Mitty.
"Douglas is but nineteen, and really only a boy," protested Mrs. Billing.
"Well, this affair will make a man of him, or I'm greatly mistaken."
"More likely it will make him a slave," argued Jane; "he is bound to
support his mother, and a hundred and fifty pounds a year won't go far
with her! And now I dare say she will have her wish and be able to live
in London. I suppose there will be