Angel: A sketch in Indian inkCroker, B. M. (Bithia Mary)
History
Angel: A sketch in Indian ink
Croker, B. M. (Bithia Mary)
British -- India -- Fiction; India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
"Oh, well, of course it is in the family—her father ruined himself."
"I went home with her on board ship from Egypt; she always made me
think of Cleopatra, the serpent of the old Nile; she was so long and
willowy, and seemed to twine and glide about, and to fascinate. She
only exercised her fascinations on rich men, and that but seldom; but
if they went and sat by her deck-chair they were lost! Mr. Waldush
would talk to them, and dazzle them, and then say: 'Shall we have
a little game?' She won large sums, and never showed the smallest
excitement, and when she gathered up her winnings with her long white
lingers, would say, in her sweetest manner, 'Oh, you should have played
this, or that, card.' She is a marvellous player; and has the brain of
a mathematician, the men declared."
"I'm glad she has even that," rejoined her bridesmaid, with
considerable heat. "I speak of Lola as I found her, and I stick to the
fact that she gave up Gascoigne to save Earlsmead from going to the
hammer, and to provide for her mother and brothers," and there was more
than a suspicion of sharpness in the key.
"And I," said Mrs. Fitzjohn, "stick to the fact that Earlsmead went to
the hammer; that the pecuniary help was comparatively insignificant.
I speak with authority, as my sister is married to Edgar Hargreaves,
Lola's eldest brother. The place is gone from him and his heirs for
ever; they can just barely get along, and no more. Lola had no idea
of marrying a sub. in the Sappers when she could marry a millionaire
with forty thousand a year—she said so; and I know that she gave
old Mr. Waldershare any amount of encouragement; in fact, she threw
herself at his feet." Mrs. Danvers, of the Deep Voice, threw up her
head indignantly, and glared at her opponent, but made no reply. "Lola
Waldershare is one of those women who knows exactly what she wants—and
gets it."
"She did not gain much by her marriage, at any rate," argued her
bridesmaid, with a sneer.
"Only ten years' enjoyment of every imaginable luxury," retorted the
other lady; "carriages, diamonds, society, admiration, excitement, the
spending of immense sums of money—on herself——" Mrs. Danvers merely
gave a dry, incredulous cough, and began to put on her gloves. "I fancy
she is rather at a loose end now," resumed Mrs. Hargreaves's sister,
speaking in a cool but acrimonious key; "roaming about, most likely,
seeking whom she may devour. If she ranges out here, she will probably
fasten on the Gascoignes; and I shall be sincerely sorry for that
pretty, conscientious girl, who gave us all such a shock just now."
"If she 'ranges out here,' as you so elegantly express it, she will
have no occasion to fasten on anyone," rejoined Mrs. Danvers, with
temper; "her home will be with me, her girl friend, her bridesmaid. I
shall ask her—indeed, I shall wire to her—at once."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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