"By the way, I wonder who'll marry little Stuart?" he said, as he went slowly on with his hands behind him, his broad chest thrown out, and a bluff, manly bearing about him that would have made an onlooker think that he would not make a bad match for the lady himself. "I shan't," he added, after a pause. "Hilton's a precious idiot not to go for her himself, instead of wasting his time upon a woman who will throw him over. As for me, I'm beginning to think I am not a lady's man. I'm too big, and clumsy, and stupid. They tolerate me when they don't laugh at me. Bah! what does it matter? Sport's my line--and dogs." VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. THE PAINS OF A PRINCESS. Captain Hilton saw no reason for detaining his subaltern, only bade him be ready to return to the island at the slightest sign of danger, which Chumbley promised to do; and he was about to walk down to the landing-stage, when, happening to gaze across the swift river towards Mr Perowne's beautiful garden, which sloped down to the water's edge, with as good a semblance of a lawn as could be obtained in that part of the world, he caught sight of a couple of figures in white, walking slowly up and down in the shade of the trees. He was too far distant to make out their faces, but he had no doubt that the two were Helen and Grey Stuart. "Now, I would not mind laying a whole shilling that Master Hilton has his binocular focussed exactly upon one of your faces, and is watching every turn of expression. If you smile he thinks it is with thoughts of him; and take it altogether, the poor fellow imagines you are always dreaming of him, when you are wondering what is worn now in Paris or London, and whether any of the new fashions will reach you by the next steamer. "Yes, that's Helen--fair Helen," he said, leaning upon a rail, and gazing across the water. "Chumbley, old fellow, I'm beginning to think you are not such a fool as I used to imagine you to be. It was a good brave stroke to get away from the toils of that syren; for there's no mistake about it, old man, you were just like a big fly in the pretty spider's web. "By George! she is a very lovely girl though! She seems to fascinate everyone she comes near. Thank goodness, she only got me by one leg, and I broke out, I hope, without much damaging the net. Certainly she soon seemed to repair it. I wish I were a good prophet," he went on, lighting a cigarette. "I should like to be able to say what is to take place here, who'll marry whom, and who'll remain single. Hullo! what's coming now?" The splash of oars roused him from his reverie, and turning towards the landing-stage, he made out a dragon-boat, or naga, as the larger row-galleys used by the Malay nobles are called, rapidly approaching the little isle.