CHAPTER III_Mrs. Stayne-Brooker—and Her Ex-Stepson_
From Hazarigurh Mr. Charles Stayne-Brooker went straight to Berlin,became the Herr Doktor Stein-Brücker once more, and saw much of anotherand more famous Herr Doktor of the name of Solf. He then went to SouthAfrica and thence to England, where his daughter was born. Having placedher with the family of an English clergyman whose wife “accepted” a fewchildren of Anglo-Indians, he proceeded to America and Canada, and thenceto Vladivostok, Kïaou-Chiaou, Hong Kong, Shanghai, and Singapore; then tothe Transvaal by way of Lourenzo Marques and to German East Africa. Andevery step of the way his wife went with him—and who so English, amongEnglishmen, as jolly Charlie Stayne-Brooker, with his beautiful Englishwife? . . . What he did, save interviewing stout gentlemen (whose necksbulged over their collars, whose accents were guttural, and whosetable-manners were unpleasant) and writing long letters, she did notknow. What she did know was that she was a lost and broken woman, tiedfor life to a base and loathsome scoundrel, by her yearning for“respectability,” her love for her daughter, and her utter dependence forfood, clothing and shelter upon the man whom, in her mad folly, she hadtrusted. By the time they returned to England _via_ Berlin, the child,Eva, was old enough to go to an expensive boarding-school at Cheltenham,and here Mrs. Stayne-Brooker had to leave her when her husband’s “duties”took him, from the detailed study of the Eastern Counties of England, toAfrica again. Here he seemed likely to settle at last, interestinghimself in coffee and rubber, and spending much of his time in Mombasaand Nairobi, as well as in Dar-es-Salaam, Tabora, Lindi and Zanzibar.
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Meanwhile, Major Hugh Walsingham Greene, an embittered and disappointedman, withdrew more and more into his shell, and, on each successive visitto Leighcombe Priory, more and more abandoned hope of his son’s “doingany good” in life. He was the true grandson of that most distinguishedscholar, Dr. Bertram Pym, F.R.S., of Cambridge University, and the trueson of his mother. . . . What a joy the lad would have been to thesetwo, with his love of books and his unbroken career of academicsuccesses, and what a grief he was to his soldier father, with his utterdistaste for games and sports and his dislike of all things military.
Useless it was for sweet and gentle Miss Walsingham to point to hiscleverness and wisdom, or for Amazonian and sporting Miranda Walsinghamhotly to defend him and rail against the Major’s “unfairness” and “stupidprejudice.” Equally useless for the boy to do his utmost to please theman who was to him as a god. . . .
When the Major learned that his son had produced the Newdigate PrizePoem, won the Craven and the Ireland Scholarships, and taken his DoubleFirst—he groaned. . . .
Brilliant success at Oxford? What is _Oxford_? He would sooner haveseen him miserably fail at Sandhurst and enlist for his commission. . . .
Finally the disappointing youth went to India as private secretary andtravelling companion to the great scientist, Sir Ramsey Wister, hisfather being stationed at Aden.
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Then came the Great War.