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Updated: June 22, 2025
In which we change the scene, and the sex of our performers. We must now leave the cutter to return to Portsmouth, while we introduce to our readers a new and strange association. We stated that the boats had been ensconced in a very small cove at the back of the Isle of Wight. Above these hung the terrific cliff of the Black Gang Chyne, which, to all appearance, was inaccessible.
And occasionally, in an access of further senility, he fumbled with his fingers at his mouth. He was clean shaven, and even in his old age he was handsome beyond other men standing an upright six feet two. The object of his attention was the belle of that ball, Miss Millicent Chyne, who was hemmed into a corner by a group of eager dancers anxious to insert their names in some corner of her card.
The temporary nurse was sitting in a cretonne-covered armchair, with a book of travel on his knee, and thoughts of Millicent Chyne in his mind. The astute have no doubt discovered ere this that the mind of Mr. Guy Oscard was a piece of mental mechanism more noticeable for solidity of structure than brilliancy or rapidity of execution.
"No I suppose he has plenty to tell you about himself and his prospects?" "Yes, he has. His prospects are not so hopeless as you think." "My dear Miss Chyne," protested Sir John, "I know nothing about his prospects beyond the fact that, when I am removed from this sphere of activity, he will come into possession of my title, such as it is, and my means, such as they are."
"He received a telegram while he was at dinner, miss," replied the butler, whose knowledge of the world indicated the approach of at least a sovereign. "He rose and threw down his napkin, miss. 'I'm goin' to Africa, he says. 'Come and help me pack." "Did you see the telegram by any chance?" asked Miss Chyne. "Well, miss, I didn't rightly read it."
He knew that Millicent Chyne was dressed in the latest fashion no furbished-up gown from the hands of her maid, but a unique creation from Bond Street. "Well," she asked in a low voice, as she handed him her programme, "are you pleased with it?" "Eminently so." She glanced down at her own dress.
There is a time that comes as surely as death will come in the life of every beautiful woman a time wherein she suddenly realises how trivial a thing her beauty is how limited, how useless, how ineffectual! Millicent Chyne made a little appealing movement towards Meredith, who relentlessly stepped back. It was the magic of the love that filled his heart for Oscard.
And precisely because she could not say this, Jocelyn felt hot and sick at the very thought that Jack Meredith should learn aught of Millicent Chyne from her. Her own inner motive in divulging what she had learnt from Guy Oscard could never for a moment be hidden behind a wish, however sincere, to act for the happiness of two honourable gentlemen.
Wherever Millicent Chyne went he went also, and to the lady's credit it must be recorded that no one beyond herself and Guy Oscard had hitherto noticed this fact. Millicent was nothing if not discreet. It was more or less generally known that she was engaged to Jack Meredith, who, although absent on some vaguely romantic quest of a fortune, was not yet forgotten.
Pray do not discourage him if you find time to write. But between you and me, my dear Miss Chyne, fortunes are not made in Africa. I am an old man, and I have some experience of the world. That part of it which is called Africa is not the place where fortunes are made. It is as different from India as chalk is from cheese, if you will permit so vulgar a simile." Millicent's face dropped.
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