The Lair of the White Worm/Chapter 5

HOME-COMING

AS LADY ARABELLA and Oolanga arrived almost simultaneously, Adam began to surmize what effect their appearance would have on each other. They were exactly opposite in every quality of appearance, and, so far as he could judge, of mental or moral gifts or traits. The girl of the Caucasian type, beautiful, Saxon blonde, with a complexion of milk and roses, high-bred, clever, serene of nature. The other negroid of the lowest type; hideously ugly, cruel, brutal. If Adam expected her to show any repugnance he was disappointed. If Anything, her pride heightened into disdain. She seemed as if she would not—could not—condescend to exhibit any concern or interest in such a creature. On the other hand his bearing was such as in itself to justify her pride. He treated her not merely as a slave treats his master, but as a worshipper would treat a deity. He knelt before her with his hands outstretched and his forehead in the dust. So long as she remained he did not move; it was only when she went over to Caswall and spoke that he relaxed his attitude of devotion and simply stood by respectfully. His dress, which was a grotesque mixture, more than ever seemed absurd. He had on evening dress of an ill cut, an abnormally efflorescent white shirt with exaggerated cuffs and collar, all holding mock jewels of various colors. In his nose was a silver ring, and in his ears large ornaments, composed of trophies of teeth. He wore a tall hat, which had once been of a shape of *some* kind, with a band of gold lace. Altogether he looked like a horrible distortion of a gentleman’s servant. All those around grinned or openly jeered. One of the stewards, who was carrying some of Mr. Caswall’s lighter luggage and making himself important, after the manner of stewards to debarking passengers, was attentive even to him.
Adam spoke of his own bailiff, Davenport, who was standing by, having arrived with the bailiff of Lesser Hill, who had followed Mr. Salton in a pony trap. As he spoke he pointed to the attentive ship’s steward, and presently the two men were conversing.
After a little time Mr. Salton said to Adam:
“I think we ought to be moving. I have some things to do in Liverpool, and I am sure that both Mr. Caswall and Lady Arabella would like to get under way for Castra Regis.” To which said Adam:
“I too, sir, would like to do something. I want to find out where Ross, the animal merchant, lives—you know, the local Jamrach. I want to take a small animal home with me, if you don’t mind. He is only a little thing, and will be no trouble.”
“Of course not, my boy. Whatever you like. What kind of animal is it that you want?”
“A mongoose.”
“A mongoose! What on earth do you want it for?”
“To kill snakes.”
“Good!” The old man remembered the mound at Stone. No explanation was needed.
Ross, the animal merchant, had had dealings with Adam chiefly in the way of mongooses. When he heard what was wanted, he asked:
“Do you want something special, or will an ordinary mongoose do?”
“Well, of course I want a good one. But I see no need for anything special. It is for ordinary use.”
“I can let you have a choice of ordinary ones. I only asked because I have in stock a very special one which I got lately from Nepaul. He has a record of his own. He killed a king cobra that had been seen in the Rajah’s garden. But I don’t suppose we have any snakes of the kind in this cold climate—I daresay an ordinary one will do.”
The bargain was effected. When Adam was coming away with the box under his arm, he said to Ross:
“I don’t know anything of the snakes here. I wouldn’t have believed there are any at all, only I saw some to-day. I shall try this mongoose, and if he is any good I shall be glad to keep him. But don’t part with the other yet. I shall send you word if I want him.”
When Adam got back to the carriage, carefully carrying the box with the mongoose, Sir Nathaniel said:
“Hullo! what have you got there?”
“A mongoose.”
“What for?”
“To kill snakes!”
Sir Nathaniel laughed. “Well, even as yet, it seems you have come to the right place.”
“How do you mean? Why ‘as yet’?”
“Remember the snakes yesterday. But that is only a beginning.”
“A beginning! How so?”
“That, my boy, belongs to the second section of our inquiry. It will have a direct bearing on it.”
“You mean about the legends?”
“We shall begin on them.”
“And then?”
“I heard Lady Arabella’s invitation to you to come to Diana’s Grove in the twilight.”
“Well, what on earth has that got to do with it?”
“Nothing directly that I know of. But we shall see.”
Adam waited, and the old man went on:
“Have you by any chance heard the other name which was given long ago to that place.”
“No, sir.”
“It was called—Look here, this subject wants a lot of talking over and listening. Suppose we wait till after dinner to-night, when we shall be alone and shall have lots of time before us.”
“All right, sir. Let us wait!” Adam was filled with curiosity, but he thought it better not to hurry matters. All would come in good time.
His attention was then claimed by the events of the day. Shortly the Lesser Hill party set out for Castra Regis, and for the time he thought no more of Diana’s Grove or of what mysteries it had contained—or might still contain.
The guests were crowding in and special places were marked for important guests. Some little time was occupied in finding their seats. Adam, seeing so many persons of varied degree, looked round for Lady Arabella, but could not locate her. It was only when he saw the old-fashioned travelling carriage approach and heard the sound of cheering which went with it, that he realised that Edgar Caswall had arrived. Then, on looking more closely, he saw that Lady Arabella, dressed as he had seen her last, was seated beside him. When the carriage drew up at the great flight of steps, the host jumped down and gave her his hand and led her up to the great daïs table, and placed her in the seat to the right of that kept for himself.
It was evident to all that she was the chief guest at the festivities. It was not long before the seats of the daïs were filled, while the tenants and guests of lesser importance had occupied all the coigns of vantage not reserved. The order of the day had been carefully arranged by a committee. There were some speeches, happily neither many nor long; and then festivities were suspended till the time for feasting arrived. In the interval Caswall walked among his guests, speaking to all in a friendly manner and expressing a general welcome. The other guests came down from the daïs and followed his example, so there was unceremonious meeting and greeting between gentle and simple. Adam Salton naturally followed with his eyes all that went on within their scope, taking note of all who seemed to afford any interest. He was young and a man and a stranger from a far distance; so on all these accounts he naturally took stock rather of the women than of the men, and of these, those who were young and attractive. There were lots of pretty girls among the crowd who had seemingly no dislike to be looked at; and Adam, who was a handsome young man and well set up, got his full share of admiring glances. These did not concern him much, and he remained unmoved until there came along a group of three, by their dress and bearing, of the farmer class. One was a sturdy old man; the other two were good-looking girls, one of a little over twenty, the other not quite grown—seventeen at most. So soon as Adam’s eyes met those of the younger girl, who stood nearest to him, some sort of electricity flashed—that divine spark which begins by recognition, and ends in obedience. Men call it “Love.”
Both the elders of the party noticed how much Adam was taken by the pretty girl, and spoke of her to him in a way which made his heart warm to them.
“Did you notice that party that passed? The old man is Michael Watford, one of the tenants of Mr. Caswall. He occupies Mercy Farm, which Sir Nathaniel tells me he pointed out to you to-day. The girls are his grand-daughters, the elder, Lilla, being the only child of his eldest son, who died when she came less than a year old. His wife died on the same day—in fact at the same time. She is a good girl—as good as she is pretty. The other is her first cousin, the daughter of Watford‘s second son. He went for a soldier when he was just over twenty, and was drafted abroad. He was not a good correspondent, though he was a good enough son. A few letters came, and then his father heard from the colonel of his regiment that he had been killed by dacoits in Burmah. He heard from the same source that his boy had been married to a Burmese, and that there was a daughter only a year old. Watford had the child brought home, and she grew up beside Lilla. The only thing that they heard of her birth was that her name was Mimi. The two children adored each other, and do to this day. Strange how different they are! Lilla all fair, like the old Saxon stock from which she is sprung from; Mimi almost as dark as the darkest of her mother’s race. Lilla is as gentle as a dove, but Mimi’s black eyes can glow whenever she is upset. The only thing that upsets her is when anything happens to injure or threaten or annoy Lilla. Then her eyes glow as do the eyes of a bird when her young are threatened.”