MISS HOLMES
Two and a half hours passed by， most of which time I spent lying down to rest and get rid of a headache caused by the continual， rapid firing and the roar of the gale， or both； also in rubbing my shoulder with ointment， for it was sore from the recoil of the guns. Then Scroope appeared， as， being unable to find my way about the long passages of that great old castle， I had asked him to do， and we descended together to the large drawing-room.
It was a splendid apartment， only used upon state occasions， lighted， I should think， with at least two or three hundred wax candles， which threw a soft glow over the panelled and pictured walls， the priceless antique furniture， and the bejewelled ladies who were gathered there.
To my mind there never was and never will be any artificial light to equal that of wax candles in sufficient quantity. The company was large； I think thirty sat down to dinner that night， which was given to introduce Lord Ragnall's future wife to the neighbourhood， whereof she was destined to be the leader.
Miss Manners， who was looking very happy and charming in her jewels and fine clothes， joined us at once， and informed Scroope that "she"was just coming； the maid in the cloakroom had told her so.
"Is she？" replied Scroope indifferently. "Well， so long as you have come I don't care about anyone else."Then he told her she was looking beautiful， and stared at her with such affection that I fell back a step or two and contemplated a picture of Judith vigorously engaged in cutting off the head of Holofernes.
Presently the large door at the end of the room was thrown open and the immaculate Savage， who was acting as a kind of master of the ceremonies， announced in well-bred but penetrating tones， "Lady Longden and the Honourable Miss Holmes." I stared， like everybody else， but for a while her ladyship filled my eye. She was an ample and， to my mind， rather awful-looking person， clad in black satin--she was a widow--and very large diamonds. Her hair was white， her nose was hooked， her dark eyes were penetrating， and she had a bad cold in her head. That was all I found time to notice about her， for suddenly her daughter came into my line of vision.
Truly she was a lovely girl， or rather， young woman， for she must have been two or three-and-twenty. Not very tall， her proportions were rounded and exquisite， and her movements as graceful as those of a doe. Altogether she was doe-like， especially in the fineness of her lines and her large and liquid eyes. She was a dark beauty， with rich brown， waving hair， a clear olive complexion， a perfectly shaped mouth and very red lips. To me she looked more Italian or Spanish than Anglo-Saxon， and I believe that， as a matter of fact， she had some southern blood in her on her father's side. She wore a dress of soft rose colour， and her only ornaments were a string of pearls and a single red camellia. I could see but one blemish， if it were a blemish， in her perfect person， and that was a curious white mark upon her breast， which in its shape exactly resembled the crescent moon.
The face， however， impressed me with other than its physical qualities. It was bright， intelligent， sympathetic and， just now， happy. But I thought it more， I thought it mystical. Something that her mother said to her， probably about her dress， caused her smile to vanish for a moment， and then， from beneath it as it were， appeared this shadow of innate mysticism. In a second it was gone and she was laughing again； but I， who am accustomed to observe， had caught it， perhaps alone of all that company. Moreover， it reminded me of something.
What was it？ Ah！ I knew. A look that sometimes I had seen upon the face of a certain Zulu lady named Mameena， especially at the moment of her wonderful and tragic death. The thought made me shiver a little； Icould not tell why， for certainly， I reflected， this high-placed and fortunate English girl had nothing in common with that fate-driven Child of Storm， whose dark and imperial spirit dwelt in the woman called Mameena. They were as far apart as Zululand is from Essex. Yet it was quite sure that both of them had touch with hidden things.
Lord Ragnall， looking more like a splendid Van Dyck than ever in his evening dress， stepped forward to greet his fiancée and her mother with a courtly bow， and I turned again to continue my contemplation of the stalwart Judith and the very ugly head of Holofernes. Presently Iwas aware of a soft voice--a very rich and thrilling voice--asking quite close to me：
"Which is he？ Oh！ you need not answer， dear. I know him from the description.""Yes，" replied Lord Ragnall to Miss Holmes--for it was she--"you are quite right. I will introduce you to him presently. But， love， whom do you wish to take you in to dinner？ I can't--your mother， you know； and as there are no titles here to-night， you may make your choice. Would you like old Dr. Jeffreys， the clergyman？""No，" she replied， with quiet firmness， "I know him； he took me in once before. I wish Mr. Allan Quatermain to take me in. He is interesting， and I want to hear about Africa.""Very well，" he answered， "and he /is/ more interesting than all the rest put together. But， Luna， why are you always thinking and talking about Africa？ One might imagine that you were going to live there.""So I may one day，" she answered dreamily. "Who knows where one has lived， or where one will live！" And again I saw that mystic look come into her face.
I heard no more of that conversation， which it is improbable that anyone whose ears had not been sharpened by a lifetime of listening in great silences would have caught at all. To tell the truth， I made myself scarce， slipping off to the other end of the big room in the hope of evading the kind intentions of Miss Holmes. I have a great dislike of being put out of my place， and I felt that among all these local celebrities it was not fitting that I should be selected to take in the future bride on an occasion of this sort. But it was of no use， for presently Lord Ragnall hunted me up， bringing the young lady with him.
