: Given in Marriage by Croker B M Bithia Mary - England Social life and customs 19th century Fiction; Married people Fiction; British India Fiction

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o! I can't imagine why he does not chuck all this? Everyone knows he is quite too grossly prosperous--and she, with her talents, and her energy, is thrown away out here."

"Yes," agreed Mayne, "she's awfully clever, and go-ahead."

"I say, what amazing pictures you have in your mind's eye," said Mayne--who was not imaginative, "a cinematograph isn't in it!"

"Oh, here she comes at last!" said Calvert, tossing away his cheroot, and rising, he added with his most courtly air, "Welcome, welcome, dear lady--as the sun upon a darkened world."

Immediately after breakfast, Mayne ordered the cob, and rode away in spite of Mrs. Ffinch's urgent appeals for him to remain, and "spend a nice long day." He felt that at present, he could not endure any more of Calvert's society. What a poisonous tongue,--what a shameless climber; and there was such calculation and method in his schemes. He, by his own confession, made a point of cultivating the right people--chiefly through their womenkind--and cherished well-founded hopes of a comfortable, and prominent post on someone's staff.

That same night after the household had retired, and the premises were supposed to be wrapped in sleep Mayne was aroused by a wild piercing scream. He jumped out of bed, and as he hurried on some clothes, saw a bare-footed white figure, lamp in hand, flash down the verandah shrieking:

"Sam! Sam! A panther has taken him! Daddy--Daddy--hurry!"

With bobbing lanterns, crashing sticks, and loud harsh shouts, the whole of the rocks were most thoroughly beaten, but without result; of dog or panther there was not a trace. After an hour's exhaustive search, Mayne returned to the bungalow--his lamp had gone out. Here in the verandah he distinguished a sobbing figure; Nancy, alone and in uncontrollable grief. Between her sobs she moaned:

They were the same height, and in the dark, she had mistaken him for her father,--who was still pursuing a hopeless search among the rocks,--but the situation was not the less embarrassing,--especially as the girl clung to her supposed parent, with both arms clasped tightly round his neck, and her face buried in his coat. Suddenly she realized her mistake, and with a violent jerk, drew herself away.

"Why, you're not Daddy!" she gasped out, breathlessly, "I know by the feel of your coat. It's Captain Mayne--I've been--hugging."

"It's all right, Nancy," taking her hands in his. "Poor little girl! I'm just as sorry for you, as ever I can be, and I'll never rest, till I bring you in the skin of the brute that has killed Sam. Here is your father now," and Mayne tactfully withdrew, and abandoned the pair to their grief,--Nancy's the wildest, and most poignant, that he had ever witnessed.

The following day, Francis the butler, mysteriously imparted to Mayne the news, that Sam's collar, and one paw had been found.

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