Part 14

The remark caused all eyes to be turned towards Sinclair. He was seated on one of the battlements. On his knee was perched Constance Beauchamp. One arm was thrown around his neck. With the other hand she was caressing and arranging the heavy waves of his fair hair. A flush appeared under the tan of his face. Before he had time to reply Constance broke in:

"Oh, daddy, I was just asking Dr. Sinclair why he did not let his hair grow long and fall in big curls on his shoulders. Then he would be so handsome. He would be just like the picture of Harold Fair-Hair, King of Norway, in the last story-book Aunt Jo sent me from England. Dr. Sinclair, won't you let your hair grow? Do! For me!"

Sinclair's face had crimsoned at the sudden attention drawn to him and the frank admiration of the little maid. But he was too gallant to refuse:

"I couldn't resist that appeal. I'll promise. I'll not get my hair cut again until you give me leave."

"Oh, goody! I knew you would do it for me. You're lovely."

"I admire your courage, doctor, more than your good sense," laughed her father. "But it is always the way. A big man can be twisted around the fingers of the littlest maid."

But the one whose presence at this little scene had made the blood tingle in Sinclair's face more sharply than all the others thought to herself:

"It is a child's instinctive attraction to a true man."

That scene on the ramparts of the old Dutch fort became one of the most cherished treasures in the picture-gallery of her memory.

*XXIII*

*IMPENDING STORMS*

"Well, Mr. De Vaux, I see that the French fleet has arrived. Has the commander given any intimations of his intentions yet?"

"Bless my soul, Mr. MacAllister! ... Is it possible that you have not heard? ... These boys are most exasperating. They'll be the death of me yet.... 'Pon my honour, they will! ... I was with the consul when Admiral Lespes' messenger arrived, and the consul gave me the notice to read.... Extraordinarily decent of the consul! ... I sent the boy to you that very minute with a chit. Did he not deliver it?"

"Not yet."

"I'll have him flogged, Mr. MacAllister.... 'Pon my soul, I will.... It is the only way to deal with them, Mr. MacAllister.... Now, where can he be? ... Stopped somewhere along the road, playing fantan and gambling away his month's wages! ... By----! ... 'Pon my word, I mean it's most exasperating.... Flogging is the only thing to cure them when they start gambling. Isn't that your experience, Carteret?"

"I think that they all ought to be flogged," replied Carteret languidly. "Never yet met a Chinese who was good for anything."

"Opinions may differ on that point, Mr. Carteret," said Mr. MacAllister sharply. "But, De Vaux, you have not yet told me what notice the French admiral sent."

"By----! ... Bless my soul, I mean how stupid of me! I beg a thousand pardons, Mr. MacAllister.... How did I forget that? ... Those boys annoy me so. I really cannot think of what I am doing. 'Pon my soul, I cannot! ... But Admiral Lespes' notice! Would you believe it, he says that he will bombard the town to-morrow morning at seven o'clock.... Did ever you hear of such an atrocity?"

"How do you do, Mr. De Vaux? Did I hear you say just now that Tamsui was to be bombarded? Or was I mistaken?"

"Miss MacAllister, you are perfectly correct.... I am sure that you are never mistaken.... 'Pon my soul, I am! ... You are quite right. I am sorry to say that Tamsui is to be bombarded in the morning."

"Oh I'm so glad! That is, I'm not glad that it is to be bombarded. But I am glad that since it is going to happen it should take place while we are here. I should have been so disappointed to have missed it. How do you do, Mr. Carteret?"

"Since the ladies have arrived, we had better proceed to luncheon at once," said Mr. MacAllister. "We do not know what developments there may be this afternoon."

As soon as they were seated at the table Mrs. MacAllister turned to Carteret and said:

"Do you really think, Mr. Carteret, that the lives of the foreign residents will be endangered by the bombardment?"

"There will be very little danger, I assure you, Mrs. MacAllister. The French will direct their fire at the earthworks and the camps on the downs. As soon as they plump a few shells among them the whole Chinese army will run like sheep, and the bombardment will be over."

"I am so glad to hear you say so, Mr. Carteret. It was what I felt myself. But it is a relief to know that one who has lived here and knows the natives is of the same opinion. You think that the French will take possession of the town early in the day?"

"Assuredly! Before to-morrow night there'll not be a Chinese soldier nearer than Taipeh."

"I do not believe that the French are going to have it so easy as that," broke in De Vaux. "'Pon my soul, I do not! ... The Chinese will give them more than they reckon upon. Mark my words.... Dr. MacKay thinks the same, and he knows more about the Chinese than any of us."

"But, Mr. De Vaux," replied Mrs. MacAllister, "you must remember that Dr. MacKay is married to a Chinese woman. Really, I never got such a shock as when I heard that. My opinion of missionaries went down to zero. To take a Chinese woman as his wife! How could he?"

De Vaux's face became very red. Carteret maintained his attitude of cynical composure.

"I suppose it was one of the sacrifices he felt himself called upon to make in order to do the Lord's work," he replied sneeringly. "These fanatics will justify any insanity by claiming that the Lord commanded them to do it."

Miss MacAllister's colour deepened. Her eyes flashed ominously. Her father's face was grave, to the verge of sternness. Before either of them could speak De Vaux interposed.

"Dr. MacKay is not the only one who thinks that the Chinese will put up a resistance," he said. "When I was coming along, Dr. Sinclair and Dr. Black of the _Locust_ were busy at the Mission Hospital, getting it ready to take care of a lot of wounded. 'Pon my honour as a gentleman, they're right. There'll be fighting here to-morrow. By----! I mean, 'pon my soul, there will!"

Mrs. MacAllister sniffed.

"I do not depend much on Dr. Sinclair's judgment," she said, "since he went over to Keelung to be a surgeon among the Chinese. I was very much surprised at him. I cannot understand how he can endure being among those dirty natives. It would make me sick. And to handle their bodies and treat their wounds! ... It's loathsome, perfectly loathsome. I am astonished at Dr. Sinclair."

"Dr. Sinclair evidently has not your feelings about it, Mrs. MacAllister," said Carteret in his most contemptuous tone. "He is a Canadian, and on his paternal farm was probably not accustomed to any more savoury surroundings than he finds among the Chinese. Doubtless, he feels very much at home."

The next moment he bitterly repented having spoken. Miss MacAllister sat up very straight. Her eyes gleamed at him like two dagger-points. Her face flushed crimson, and then paled with anger:

"Mr. Carteret, that remark of yours was entirely uncalled for. Dr. Sinclair is a gentleman. You are not a gentleman or you would not have made such a statement."

"Oh, Jessie!" cried her mother in horrified accents. "What are you saying? You did not mean that."

"I did mean it, and I do mean it."

Mr. MacAllister, who usually with ready tact softened such acerbities, maintained a grim silence. De Vaux threw himself into the breach and made an excited, stuttering attempt at mediation, compelling Miss MacAllister to laugh against her will.

In spite of this, and in spite of Carteret's abject apology and retraction, a tense feeling pervaded the atmosphere throughout the remainder of the luncheon, and all were glad when it was over.

To Miss MacAllister the remainder of the day was no less trying. She realized that her sudden flame of indignation had surprised her into betraying to prying and unfriendly eyes feelings toward Dr. Sinclair which she had not before dared to confess to herself. She knew that her mother had been bitterly chagrined by her open espousal of the big Canadian's cause and by the merciless snub she had given that ambitious woman's pet aristocrat. But she knew her mother too well to imagine for one instant that this scene, painful though it was, would make her desist from the purpose to which she had set her mind. She had not long to wait for the proof of the truth of her conclusions.

That afternoon the ladies were left pretty much to their own devices. Some of the men were busy preparing for the morrow. Others who had little to do were on the old fort or other vantage points, watching the warships which lay just outside the harbour, and were speculating in an inexpert fashion on the probabilities and prospects of the following day. All of which speculations and prophecies the following day proved to be false. But in the meantime the idle ones grew eloquent over their own imaginings, and, like most armchair experts, persuaded themselves that they did know something about war and the respective fighting qualities of French marines and Chinese soldiers.

Taking advantage of her husband's absence, Mrs. MacAllister called her daughter into her room. After some preliminary fencing, she plunged into the subject she had in mind:

"There is no need of my concealing from you, Jessie, how deeply I was grieved and disappointed by your conduct towards Mr. Carteret to-day."

"I am very sorry to have hurt your feelings, mother. But I am not sorry for telling Mr. Carteret the truth and giving him what he deserved."

"I do not understand what you mean by saying that you gave Mr. Carteret what he deserved."

"Mother, Mr. Carteret took advantage of his privileges as our guest and of the friendship we have showed him to make an unwarranted and ungentlemanly attack on another friend of ours, who has also been our guest."

"Tut, tut, Jessie! Mr. Carteret did not say anything about Dr. Sinclair which should make any sensible person angry."

"He made statements about Dr. Sinclair which were not true; and he made them in the most insulting way possible."

"That is merely a matter of opinion, my dear. Dr. Sinclair himself acknowledged that he was born and reared on a Canadian farm. And though I will acknowledge that he has done remarkably well, considering that, to a gentleman of Mr. Carteret's birth and training he is just a peasant, nothing more than a common peasant."

"Then, mother, to Mr. Carteret we are just peasants, nothing more than common peasants. Your father was a shepherd, and father's was a peasant farmer."

Mrs. MacAllister coloured at the thrust, but tried to evade it.

"Jessie," she said, "what is the use of always humiliating your father and mother by continually reminding them that they were born poor? We have risen above that now and associate with the best in the land. People should be judged by what they are, and not by what they were born to."

"That is exactly what I think, mother. By that standard Dr. Sinclair, who was born on a Canadian farm, is a gentleman. And Mr. Carteret, who was born in an English castle, is not a gentleman."

"For shame, Jessie, to talk like that! You have no right to say that of Mr. Carteret. You humiliated him at our own table to-day, and he bore it like a gentleman."

"Like a coward, you mean!"

"And by getting indignant on behalf of Dr. Sinclair," continued the mother, without paying any heed to the daughter's interjection, "you practically said to everybody that you were in love with him."

"I said no such thing."

"Both Mr. De Vaux and Mr. Carteret understood it that way."

"I don't care a fig what they understood."

"And when Dr. Sinclair hears of it he will understand it the same way."

"He will do no such thing. He is too much of a man."

Miss MacAllister spoke bravely. But the thrust had gone home. If there was one thing she dreaded, it was the thought that she should make herself cheap, that she should appear to offer her love instead of having her love sought and won. The thought stung. But she would not acknowledge it.

"Jessie, has Dr. Sinclair spoken to you of marriage?"

"Mother, I cannot understand what makes you imagine such things. Dr. Sinclair has never spoken of the subject of marriage, even in the remotest and most impersonal way."

"Has he ever told you that he loves you?"

"Mother, I refuse to discuss this subject any further. It is absurd."

"You may say that it is absurd if you wish, Jessie. But, after the way you acted to-day, I thought that there must surely be some ground for your championship of him."

Again the implication stung. Had she been making herself cheap? Was her secret which she had refused to acknowledge to herself laid bare before everybody? She winced at the thought. But she said nothing.

Her mother pursued her advantage:

"Now, Mr. Carteret has followed the only course open to a gentleman of birth and breeding. He has honourably come to your father and mother and has asked our permission to be considered a suitor for your hand."

"Was that permission given?"

"Jessie, what do you take us for? Do you think that we have no care about your future? The heir presumptive to the title and estates of Lewesthorpe would be considered one of the catches of a London season."

"Mother, tell me, did father accept Mr. Carteret as a prospective lover and husband for me?"

"Yes, certainly.... That is---- You know your father's way.... He did not put it in so many words, but he gave what was equivalent to his consent."

"That is to say that father told Mr. Carteret I could choose for myself. Now, mother, is that not what father said?"

"Well, perhaps it was something like that. But, at any rate, it was the same thing as giving his consent. He made no objections to Mr. Carteret's trying to win you."

"That is just what I thought. Of course you gave your hearty consent and approval."

"Certainly, my daughter. What kind of a mother would I be if a handsome and accomplished young gentleman, a gentleman of birth and prospects, should offer you his heart and hand,--what kind of a mother would I be not to encourage his suit?"

"Then, mother, he can keep his heart and hand. I will have none of them."

"Jessie, do not make rash statements, which you may regret. I am not asking you to promise to marry Mr. Carteret. I only asked you to give him a chance to win your love."

"Mother, it is no use. I'll never love Mr. Carteret."

"But, Jessie, think of his prospects. His father is a feeble old man. His death is expected any day. The present heir has only one lung."

"I don't care if he had only quarter of one lung. It would make no difference to me."

"But, Jessie, stop and think of it. Mr. Carteret will then be Lord Lewesthorpe, and you would be the Countess of Lewesthorpe."

"Mother, there is no use in your talking like that. I do not care if he were the Prince of Wales. I would not pledge myself to try to love a man whom I do not respect."

"Jessie, I am bitterly disappointed in you. You are all I have. If Allister were living it would be different." Tears, real tears, of grief and mortification sprang into the older woman's eyes and began to roll down her cheeks. "If I had Allister, it would be different. He would build up the family. But I have only you, and you will not do anything I wish. I am grievously disappointed."

"Mother, you are not fair to me. I have tried to do what you wanted. But you are asking of me what I cannot do. I cannot give myself body and soul to a man I despise, a man I can never love."

"But think of the title, Jessie, and the estates, and the old mansion built in the time of Queen Elizabeth. And think of the place you would have in society. You would learn to love him if you would only let yourself."

"Mother is it possible that you think that I could love a man for these things? I must love him for himself, or not at all."

"Then I suppose that you will tell that low-born, penniless Canadian doctor that you love him," said her mother bitterly. "Next thing you'll be wanting to marry him and settle down here as a missionary among those dirty Chinese."

The taunt stung again as it had stung before. The quick blood flamed into her face and passionately she flashed back:

"I have not the slightest intention of marrying Dr. Sinclair."

It was the defiant answer of maidenly pride, fired by the insinuation that she had allowed her feelings to cause her to transgress the limits of maidenly reserve. In her sudden anger she was fighting against the dictates of her own heart.

But her mother, in the determination to satisfy her pitiful ambition, did not hesitate to seize the unfair advantage and wrest her daughter's words, giving them a meaning which had not been intended:

"I am very glad to hear you say, Jessie, that you will not marry Dr. Sinclair. Your attitude towards him the last few days gave to me as well as to others, and I am quite sure to Dr. Sinclair himself, the impression that you were in love with him. I am glad to have it from your own lips that it was nothing more than a passing fancy, a harmless flirtation."

Miss MacAllister waited to hear no more. She could not contradict her mother's artful twisting of her words without confessing her love. She could not do that, for Dr. Sinclair had not confessed his, nor had he asked for hers. She was trapped. Her mother had trapped her and she could find no escape.

She fled from her mother's room, ran to her own, and in a passion of tears of anger and shame threw herself on a couch. Was what her mother had said true? Had she exposed her heart to the vulgar gaze? Did they all think that she was offering her love to Sinclair without its being sought? She would teach them. They would not say that again.

*XXIV*

*THE BALL BEGINS*

Boom! Boom!

Two jets of smoke spirted out from the new earth battery on the spur of the hill running down to the pilot village by the beach. The light sea-breeze met them, lifted them in balloon-shaped clouds, and carried them slowly backwards over the battery and against the hills. The earth trembled with the heavy explosions of the Krupps. One shell splashed a little to the left of the _Triomphante_, and a trifle short. The other plume of spray rose directly beyond the warship and so close that it showed how near the Chinese gunner had come to his target.

"By Jove! the Chinese have opened the ball. They did not wait for the Frenchman to start. It's only twenty to seven."

The consul clicked his watch shut as he spoke, and turned his binoculars on the French fleet. Sinclair and Sergeant Gorman, who stood with him on the top of the old fort, had their glasses turned in the same direction. They had not long to wait. On board the _Triomphante_ men could be seen running to their stations. In less than two minutes a puff of smoke streaming out from her told that the duel was on. Before the boom of the big naval gun had travelled across the intervening two miles or more of space other jets of smoke poured out from the _Triomphante_, the _Galissonniere_, and the _Duguay Trouin_ as they lay strung across the mouth of the harbour. To the north and east of the first of these a little cloud, rising and floating on the breeze, told where the _Vipere_ lay close in shore, hidden from sight by the hills.

The second of October had come, and with it the bombardment. In spite of its imminence, most of the foreign residents were calmly enjoying their morning nap when the tempest broke upon them. Of course there were exceptions. The officers and men of the _Locust_ were at their places, ready for any duty. Dr. MacKay's working day had begun hours before. The commissioner of customs had been down to the offices to take a last inventory before the storm of iron and fire in which they were likely to be destroyed should begin. He had been joined by Mr. MacAllister and his daughter, who were looking for a point of vantage from which to see the opening of the battle. These and the group at the consulate were the only ones astir. The rest were peacefully slumbering, prolonging the morning doze to the last moment, though they knew that the bombardment was announced to commence at seven o'clock sharp.

Their drowse was rudely broken in upon. Within fifteen minutes from when the first gun was fired the four ships and the Chinese batteries were putting up a tremendous concert. The earth rocked with the bellowings of the great guns and the bursting of shells. The _Triomphante_ and the _Galissonniere_ ever and anon alternated a broadside with the independent firing of single guns. Even Carteret was awakened when the windows of his room were shattered and a great slab of plaster fell from the ceiling, bringing his mosquito curtain down on top of him in a tangled ruin.

"You will be going down to the hospital shortly, doctor?" said the consul.

"Yes, if the French keep it up like this, I guess we'll have something to do there."

"Will you drop into Thomson's and tell them that my wife and Constance will call for them in a few minutes and accompany them to the rendezvous?"

"I'll tell them."

"And Dr. MacKay and his family--do you think that there is any use of our trying again to get him to go to some safer place?"

"No, there is no use. He has his students there, and a lot of his preachers and converts with their wives and families. To send them to any of the interior towns would mean Sin-tiam over again. They are in less danger here from the French shells than they would be from the heathen mobs. He will not leave them. If they are going to be in danger, he will be in danger with them."

"I fancied that it would be that way with him. Well, I think all the more of him for it. Now I must go and get my family down to the rendezvous and see that the rest of the British residents are under the best cover possible. Hallo! Who's that on the beach road below the custom house?"

"The commissioner, Mr. MacAllister, and Miss MacAllister," said Sinclair, who had his glasses on them.

"What the deuce are they doing there?

"Looking for a good place from which to see the fun," laughed Sinclair, though his face showed more anxiety than mirth.

"Boville ought to have more sense," snapped the consul. "Last evening he was in a great fluster about seeing that everybody was safe at the rendezvous before the ball began. But I suppose that Miss MacAllister has coaxed him, and he couldn't resist."

"Quite likely," replied the doctor, while an odd little smile played around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. "They are turning back now. Mr. MacAllister has taken charge. He has the young lady by the arm and they are heading for home."

"By Jove! she needs some one whom she can't twist round her fingers."

The two men laughed; Sinclair a little doubtfully, as if he was not too sure that such a thing was possible; the consul with the air of conscious superiority which needs not fear. They little knew what the day had in store for them.

"We must be off. It's getting pretty hot over there, and it may swing around this way any minute. Sergeant, would you stay here a little while and watch Monsieur _Lespes_? If he seems inclined to pay his compliments to the town as well as to the batteries, run up the red signal. But don't stay here after this is in the line of fire. I don't want you to get your head knocked off."

"Very good, sir! I shall thry not to come down to you wid me head in me hand."

Sinclair and the consul ran down the dark stairway within the old fort and hurried away, the latter to his house close by, the former to MacKay's to get his instruments and then to Thomson's to give them the consul's message. Gorman stood alone on his watch-tower, looking out upon the scene.