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Mrs. Beresford was the wife of a member of council in India. She had been
to Macao for her boy's health, intending to return to Calcutta: but
meantime her husband was made a director, and went home: so she was going
to join him. A tall, handsome lady, with too curved a nose.
Like most aquiline women, she was born to domineer a bit; and, for the
last ten years, Orientals clinging at her knee and Europeans flattering
at her ear had nursed this quality highs and spoiled her with all their
might. A similar process had been applied to her boy Frederick from
infancy; he was now nearly six. Arrogance and caprice shone so in both
their sallow faces, and spoke so in every gesture, that as they came on
board, Sharpe, a reader of passengers, whispered the second mate:
"Bayliss, we have shipped the devil."
"And a cargo of his imps," grunted Mr. Bayliss.
Mr. Fullalove was a Methodist parson--to the naked eye: grave, sober,
lean, lank-haired. But some men are hidden fires. Fullalove was one of
the extraordinary products of an extraordinary nation, the United States
of America.


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