The "leading lady" was at the present moment dreaming of a golden
future in her own rooms at the "Banker's Folly." Nadine Johnstone
had been allowed to make her apartments as bright and cheery as
her buoyant nature suggested.
For Andrew Fraser, after much discussion with Janet Fairbarn, had
convoyed the heiress to St. Heliers for a day. The resources of
all the local furnishers were taxed by the young prisoner's taste,
and, the old executor, unbending a little, grimly vaunted his
"dangerous liberality." "I'll be bail for the expenditure of five
hundred pounds, as an extra allowance," he said. "Now make yourself
snug here, for ye'll bide here the whole three years! As to the
bookmen, music, and libraries, I'll give ye a free hand.
"The yearly allowance of yere lamented father will cover all
yere dealings with mantua-makers and milliners. That is yere own
affair--all that sort of womanly gear. We will make one day of it,
and if ye are lacking aught, then Miss Janet can bring ye to town,
or the dealers can come." It was, thus self-deluded, that Andrew
Fraser noted the coming cheerfulness of his defiant young charge.
He fancied he had provided every wish of her lonely heart. But the
trailing lines of smoke of the daily Southampton packets only spoke
to Nadine of a growing correspondence with Major Harry Hardwicke,
Royal Engineers. She waited now for Simpson's arrival for news of
the Delhi mystery--the death of the unloving parent, who had been
only her jailer.
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