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diff --git a/old/65615-h/65615-h.htm b/old/65615-h/65615-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 3242947..0000000 --- a/old/65615-h/65615-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10722 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en"> - -<head> - -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> - -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" /> - -<title> -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Master of Aberfeldie, Vol I, -by James Grant -</title> - -<style type="text/css"> -body { color: black; - background: white; - margin-right: 10%; - margin-left: 10%; - font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; - text-align: justify } - -p {text-indent: 4% } - -p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } - -p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 200%; - text-align: center } - -p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 150%; - text-align: center } - -p.t2b {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 150%; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center } - -p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 100%; - text-align: center } - -p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 100%; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center } - -p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 80%; - text-align: center } - -p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 80%; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center } - -p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 60%; - text-align: center } - -h1 { text-align: center } -h2 { text-align: center } -h3 { text-align: center } -h4 { text-align: center } -h5 { text-align: center } - -p.poem {text-indent: 0%; - margin-left: 10%; } - -p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; - letter-spacing: 4em ; - text-align: center } - -p.letter {text-indent: 0%; - margin-left: 10% ; - margin-right: 10% } - -p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 80%; - margin-left: 10% ; - margin-right: 10% } - -.smcap { font-variant: small-caps } - -p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; - margin-left: 10% ; - margin-right: 10% } - -p.intro {font-size: 90% ; - text-indent: -5% ; - margin-left: 5% ; - margin-right: 0% } - -p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; - margin-left: 0% ; - margin-right: 0% } - -p.finis { font-size: larger ; - text-align: center ; - text-indent: 0% ; - margin-left: 0% ; - margin-right: 0% } - -</style> - -</head> - -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Master of Aberfeldie, Volume I (of 3), by James Grant</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Master of Aberfeldie, Volume I (of 3)</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: James Grant</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 14, 2021 [eBook #65615]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Al Haines</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE, VOLUME I (OF 3) ***</div> - -<h1> -<br /><br /> - THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE<br /> -</h1> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> - BY<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t2"> - JAMES GRANT<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t3"> - AUTHOR OF<br /> - "THE ROMANCE OF WAR," "THE CAMERONIANS,"<br /> - "THE SCOTTISH CAVALIER,"<br /> - ETC. ETC.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - IN THREE VOLUMES.<br /> - VOL. I.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - LONDON:<br /> - HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,<br /> - 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.<br /> - 1884.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t4"> - <i>All rights reserved.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> - Contents<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - Chapter<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - I. <a href="#chap01">Stalking the Deer</a><br /> - II. <a href="#chap02">Hawke Holcroft</a><br /> - III. <a href="#chap03">Uncle Raymond's Will</a><br /> - IV. <a href="#chap04">The Grahams of Dundargue</a><br /> - V. <a href="#chap05">Olive and Allan</a><br /> - VI. <a href="#chap06">The Chagrin of Love</a><br /> - VII. <a href="#chap07">Le Chagrin d'Amour</a><br /> - VIII. <a href="#chap08">The Riding-Party</a><br /> - IX. <a href="#chap09">The Picnic at Dunsinane</a><br /> - X. <a href="#chap10">The Golden Bangle</a><br /> - XI. <a href="#chap11">Eveline's Suitor</a><br /> - XII. <a href="#chap12">A Revelation to Holcroft</a><br /> - XIII. <a href="#chap13">Allan Proves Mysterious</a><br /> - XIV. <a href="#chap14">Olive Changes Her Mind</a><br /> - XV. <a href="#chap15">The Carpet-Dance, and What Came of It</a><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> - -<p class="t2"> -THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER I. -<br /><br /> -STALKING THE DEER. -</h3> - -<p> -'I don't know what Olive will think, or -how she may view my loitering here, after -all these years of absence, instead of -hastening home to meet her; but, truth to -tell, the temptation to have a shot on the -purple heather after sweltering so long in -India was so great——' -</p> - -<p> -'What does it matter what she thinks?' -interrupted the elder man, laughing. -'When two persons are to spend the whole -term of their natural lives together, they -can surely spare a few days for pleasure -apart!' -</p> - -<p> -'But consider, I have not seen my little -<i>fiancée</i> for seven years.' -</p> - -<p> -'You will find her a pretty tall <i>fiancée</i> -now,' replied the other, 'and as handsome -as any girl in Scotland, Allan.' -</p> - -<p> -The speakers were Lord Aberfeldie (he -was viscount in the Peerage) and his son -Allan, the Master, then at home on leave -from the Black Watch, in which he was a -captain; and now, side by side, they were -creeping up a steep and stony corrie in -search of the red deer, but paused for a -few minutes to breathe and converse. -</p> - -<p> -The Master—so entitled as the son of a -Scottish baron (we may add for the -information of most English readers even in -these days)—was, like his father, a tall -and soldier-like fellow, with closely-shorn -dark brown hair, straight features, and an -almost black moustache, which partly -concealed lips that were handsomely curved, -and expressive of no small degree of -firmness and decision. He carried his head -erect, and spoke rather with the air of one -used to command when addressing men, -but with great and subtle softness when -conversing with women of every station -and degree; and already, under home -influences, his dark hazel eyes were losing -the keen and somewhat hawk-like expression -they had worn when daily facing -death and suffering on active service. -</p> - -<p> -Both father and son were handsome, -though there were nearly thirty years -between them in age, and both were, from -head to foot, unmistakably thorough-bred -men—the latter tanned deeply by a tropical -sun, and his forehead scarred by a wound -from a tulwar blade. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Aberfeldie, now above fifty, had -taken a turn of service for a few years in -the Black Watch till his succession to the -title required his presence at home, though -an enthusiastic soldier; and soon after his -place in the regiment which he loved so -well was taken by his only son and heir, -the Master, then fresh from college. -</p> - -<p> -Father and son both wore plain shooting-kilts -and jackets of coarse heather-coloured -stuff, with handsomely-mounted -sporans and skeins; other ornaments they -had none, unless we except the crest of -Graham—their surname—an eagle taloning -a stork, in their glengarries; and the -peer, who was a keen fisherman, had his -head-dress further garnished by various -flies and old fish-hooks. -</p> - -<p> -When <i>en route</i> home to the family seat -at Dundargue, in the Carse of Gowrie, the -Master had been tempted by his father to -join him at their shooting-box among the -lovely Perthshire hills, where, at present, -the party consisted of only four—Mr. Hawke -Holcroft, an English guest, and -Evan Cameron, a sub. of the Black Watch, -also on leave; and these two, attended by -a keeper and gillies, were creeping up -another corrie, rifle in hand, about half a -mile distant. -</p> - -<p> -'You have had this—a—Mr. Holcroft -with you for some time at Dundargue!' -said Allan Graham, questioningly. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—for some weeks—before we came -up to the hills here.' -</p> - -<p> -'He cannot know anything about the -implied engagement—that of Olive -Raymond with me?' -</p> - -<p> -'Implied?' -</p> - -<p> -'Well—the peculiar arrangements that -exist under her father's eccentric -will.' -</p> - -<p> -'Probably not—nay, undoubtedly not,' -replied his father, eyeing him keenly; 'it -is no business of his—so, whence the -question, Allan?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because he showed me, rather -vauntingly, a very fine photo he keeps in his -pocket-book.' -</p> - -<p> -'A photo of Olive?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'The deuce he does. I have thought -her sometimes too <i>épris</i> with our horsey -friend Hawke Holcroft, and thus longed -for your return. They renewed at -Dundargue, an acquaintance formed last -season in London, when Olive made some -sensation, I assure you; and, now that you -have seen her photo, what do you think of -her—pretty?' -</p> - -<p> -'Pretty! She is downright beautiful!' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah—wait till you have seen her. She -does credit to your mother's rearing and -her governess's tutelage; but you have -not exhibited much impatience hitherto. -Gad, when I was your age——' -</p> - -<p> -'You forget that she was such a child -when we parted,' interrupted Allan, -stroking out his long dark moustache. 'But -was it not rather cool of him to show me -her likeness?' -</p> - -<p> -'Perhaps; but then it was done in -ignorance of the situation, and it is -probably the result of some conservatory -flirtation.' -</p> - -<p> -'But just as he showed it to me, was it -not strange that I heard the cry of a -plover overhead, and——' -</p> - -<p> -Lord Aberfeldie interrupted his son by a -hearty laugh, and tossed away the end of -his cigar. -</p> - -<p> -'After eight years' soldiering with the -Black Watch, do you actually retain the -superstition that the plover is a type of -inconstancy, and the bird of ill-omen -Burns, Scott, and Leyden describe it as -being?' -</p> - -<p> -Allan laughed, too; but now, when -among his native mountains and the -scenes of his childhood, he could not help -old Scottish impressions returning to him, -though certainly the ranks of his regiment -were the last place in which he was -likely to forget them. -</p> - -<p> -The silver-haired and silver-bearded old -game-keeper, Dugald Glas (whose real -name was Mackinnon), a hawk-eyed Celt, -with a weather-beaten visage, and bare -knees that were brown as mahogany, now -urged silence and no more smoking. He -had discovered by the aid of his binoculars -a couple of deer grazing, but pretty -far apart, upon the hill-side; and once -again by private signal the two parties -began mutually their stealthy approach -upward in the two corries that concealed -them in the <i>forest</i>, for so it was called, -though destitute now of trees. -</p> - -<p> -'A forest, as the word was strictly -taken in ancient times,' says Sir Thomas -Dick Lauder, 'could not be in the hands -of anyone but the king, yet in later periods -forests have become the property of -subjects, or have been erected by them, -though without being protected by forest -laws. The royal forest in the Isle of -Wight, in which there is not a single -tree, is not the only English example -remaining of the view taken of this old -meaning of the word.' Hence, he adds, -'Let not the Cockney suppose that the -word forest necessarily implies a district -covered with oaks, chestnuts, or trees of -any other description.' -</p> - -<p> -A powerful and gigantic staghound, -wiry, sinewy, and iron-grey—the noble -dog that Landseer loved to depict—saw -the deer already without the aid of glasses -and strained hard upon his leash, an iron -chain, which was twisted round the muscular -wrist of the old keeper, who soothed -and patted him, while muttering in Gaelic, -'<i>Mar e Bran, is e braithair!</i>' (If it is not -Bran, it is his brother), alluding to Fingal's -favourite staghound, which he was thought -to resemble, as his hair was iron-grey, his -feet were yellow, with erect ears of a -ruddy tinge. -</p> - -<p> -The forenoon was brilliantly clear, so -the deer-stalkers had not the weather to -contend with, as that, if untoward, may -render all strategy vain. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Aberfeldie and his son were as -well aware as their skilled old keeper that -in stalking the chief things to regard are -the eyes and nose of the deer. His vision, -quick as that of an eagle, can detect a -human head above a ridge of rock or belt -of bracken, and he can scent an intruder -on his 'native heath,' if the breeze blows -<i>from</i> the former, at a wonderful distance; -and old Dugald Glas, who had brought the -father and son to the forest at dawn with -us much care and secresy as if an assassination -was in hand, had long scanned the -vicinity with his glasses before he discovered -the stags in question, and gave the -concealed stalkers the signal to approach -them. -</p> - -<p> -The two animals were rather far apart; -both were quietly feeding, and—as the -season was considerably advanced—both -in colour were marvellously like the grey -stone and brown heather around them, -and both were, as yet, all unalarmed as -Lord Aberfeldie, the Master, and Dugald -Glas, while pausing and holding ever and -anon a council of war in low whispers, -crept up the stony corrie, keeping carefully -to leeward of the quarry they had selected, -leaving Cameron of Stratherroch and -Hawke Holcroft to approach the other as -best they might; but it was in the present -instance absolutely necessary that both -parties should fire at the same instant, or -one of the stags would vanish at a gallop, -perhaps to the most distant limit of the -forest. -</p> - -<p> -In crawling after such game the head -must be foremost when going up a hill, -and the feet foremost when going down, -and the stalker must creep on his stomach -and knees; and all this, when done in the -kilt, over rough rocks, sharply-pointed -heather, and mossy bog, is not to be -effected without considerable toil and even -discomfort. -</p> - -<p> -Nearly an hour of this kind of work had -gone on, the father and son creeping side -by side, softly and in silence, dragging -their rifles after them, old Dugald following -in the same fashion, with Bran straining -on his iron chain; and once or twice -they had actually to traverse the bed of a -mountain burn that brawled hoarsely -downward over its brown-worn pebbles -and boulders. -</p> - -<p> -The stag was still feeding quietly, and -all unconscious of the approach of death; -and the stalkers were, they thought, within -a safe distance now, and that it could not -escape them; so Dugald Glas dropped -behind, after whispering to the Master in -Gaelic, -</p> - -<p> -'Blood upon the skein, Allan!' -</p> - -<p> -Then the heart of the latter began to -beat highly as the moment for shooting -drew near, for after all their care and toil -it was quite possible that a grouse might -whirr up from the heather, and with a -warning cry scare the stag to full speed. -</p> - -<p> -'You take aim, Allan,' whispered Lord -Aberfeldie, 'and I shall reserve my fire. -It is years since you had a shot at a dun -cow, my boy.' -</p> - -<p> -Inch by inch the Master cautiously -inserted his double-barrelled rifle between -the stiff tufts of purple heather that fringed -the bank of the hollow up which they had -been creeping, and brought the sights to -bear upon the beautiful and graceful -animal that cropped the herbage, with his -branching antlers lowered; and Allan, in -the excitement of the moment, felt his -pulses beating wildly. -</p> - -<p> -'If I miss—if I fail!' he muttered. -</p> - -<p> -'Tut—-there is no such word as fail!' -replied his father, unconsciously quoting -'Richelieu.' -</p> - -<p> -Allan drew a long breath, while his dark -eye seemed to flash along the barrel, and -fired. Bang went a couple of rifles in the -distant corrie, but Aberfeldie and his son -took no heed of them. The latter's single -shot had sped true, piercing the stag above -the left eye, and now it lay prone on the -heather, tearing up tufts and sandy earth -with its hoofs in the agonies of death. -</p> - -<p> -Allan's skein-dhu was promptly in his -hand; the stag was <i>gralloched</i>, and Dugald -Glas, waving his bonnet, shouted loudly -for Alister Bane and Hector Crubach (or -lame Hector), two gillies, to bring up the -pony, on which the dead animal was slung, -and then the party set out for the place -appointed for luncheon, as raid-day was -now long since past. -</p> - -<p> -'What the deuce are Stratherroch and -Holcroft about?' exclaimed Lord Aberfeldie, -while shading his eyes with his hand; -and to their success in sport we shall refer -in the next chapter. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER II. -<br /><br /> -HAWKE HOLCROFT. -</h3> - -<p> -The process of creeping in serpent fashion -over sharp-pointed heather, rough stones, -and occasionally in the bed of a mountain -stream, as we have already described, -proved intensely tiresome and distasteful -to a 'man about town' like Mr. Hawke -Holcroft, who could not entirely conceal -his genuine disgust thereat, and at the -slowness of the whole affair, though -reminded by Dugald's son Angus, a smart -young under-keeper, of the big hart of -Benmore, which was stalked for seven -long summer days before it was killed. -</p> - -<p> -'But, for the Lord's sake, sir, keep quiet,' -whispered Angus. 'We are now close on -one of the finest of Macgilony's dun cows.' -</p> - -<p> -'I see no dun cow!' grumbled Holcroft. -</p> - -<p> -'He means yonder deer,' whispered -Cameron, a fair-haired and pleasant-looking -fellow. 'Macgilony was a famous -hunter in the olden time, and his dun -cows, as he called them, were the red -deer of the Grampians.' -</p> - -<p> -But to Holcroft, whose idea of hunting -the stag was to have a scared and -bewildered creature—a fallow deer, fed on -oats and hay, perhaps—cast loose from a -game-cart in a smooth, grassy park, the -perseverance, courage, and labour required -for stalking in the Highlands seemed a -simple waste of time and an inconceivable -bore. -</p> - -<p> -'Stop for a minute,' whispered Angus, -as they crept <i>up the wind</i>; 'the stag can -smell with more than its nostrils.' -</p> - -<p> -As the stoppage took place directly in -the bed of a brawling burn, where they all -lay on their stomachs, Holcroft not -unnaturally asked, with no small irritation, -what he meant; and the wiry young Highlander, -who was whiskered and moustached -to such an extent that, with his shaggy -eyebrows, he somewhat resembled a Skye -terrier in visage, explained his theory—no -uncommon one, though, of course, not -admitted by naturalists—that the red deer -can both smell and breathe through the -curious aperture beneath each eye, even -if their heads are immersed in water -when in the act of drinking. -</p> - -<p> -'Dioul!' muttered Angus, as they crept -forward again, but on dry heather this -time, 'we can't be too cautious, whateffer! -A deer's eye is as keen as an eagle's, and -his nose acute as that of a foumart.' -</p> - -<p> -'The first shot shall be yours, Holcroft,' -said Cameron. 'I shall reserve my fire. -He seems a powerful animal, and, if you -only wound him, we may have the devil -to pay!' -</p> - -<p> -'Thanks—but how?' whispered Holcroft. -</p> - -<p> -'If the dogs bring him to bay, he may -turn upon us ere another cartridge can be -dropped in the barrel, and gore deep with -his horns.' -</p> - -<p> -English sportsmen generally prefer having -the deer driven to stalking them, for the -bodily exertion requisite in the latter case -tries so severely every muscle and sinew; -but, to the true Highland hunter, one deer -shot after a long and adventurous stalk, is -worth a hundred knocked over after a -successful drive by gillies, when the herd -is urged in wild confusion through some -narrow pass well garrisoned by breech-loaders -in secure ambush. -</p> - -<p> -While Holcroft and Cameron crept softly -forward nearer the browsing deer, the -young keeper threw his plaid over the eyes -of the staghound Shiuloch, and held it in -by main strength, though his wrist was -nearly dislocated by the strain of the leash, -and the ill-suppressed whimpers of the -animal were lost amid its muffling. -</p> - -<p> -'Now,' whispered Angus, hoarsely, full -of excitement—'now is your time, sir!' -</p> - -<p> -Holcroft took a long aim; in his intense -anxiety, and perhaps inspired by vanity, -he overdid his aim; he fired at the precise -moment Allan's shot was heard in the -distant corrie, but only wounded the stag -in the shoulder, and, just as he let fly the -contents of the other barrel (and missed), -it fled away with the speed of the wind, -followed by the swift and powerful hound, -which, quick as thought, Angus let slip, -and both vanished down a deep glen, -overhung by silver birches, close by. -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Ohone a Dhia!</i> but he has missed it, -after all—it is no use guiding a Sassenach -whateffer!' muttered Angus, under his -thick, ruddy moustache; yet, as Cameron -could read by the expression that -twinkled in his hazel eyes, secretly not -ill-pleased at the result, however. -</p> - -<p> -'I almost did it—hit him, at all events!' -said Holcroft, with intense mortification, -as he was too much of an Englishman not -to wish to excel in everything that -appertained to sport. -</p> - -<p> -'Almost!' repeated Angus, who added -to Cameron, in a low voice, "<i>Cha d'rinse -theob riomh sealg!</i>" (<i>i.e.</i>, Almost, never -killed the game). -</p> - -<p> -'Better luck next time,' said the young -Laird of Stratherroch, consolingly. 'Allan -has knocked over his deer, I see.' -</p> - -<p> -'Attempt and Did-not were the two -worst hounds of Fingal,' muttered Angus, -in his Perthshire Gaelic, with a furtive -glance, fall of meaning, at Stratherroch. -</p> - -<p> -'To the genuine Highlander,' says a -recent English writer, 'it is a fixed article -of belief that there never yet was a -Sassenach who knew more about the wind and -weather, or about the innumerable other -mysteries which furnish the stalker with -the tact and skill required to perfect him -in his difficult craft, than a cow -understands of conic sections. With true Celtic -caution and prudence, the gillies tolerate -the opulent tenant from the south out of -respect for his cheque-book and his -frequent drafts upon it; but in their hearts -they look upon him as an <i>intruder</i>, and are -not sorry when they contemplate his -receding form, as he turns his face -homewards, and leaves moor, loch, and mountain, -glen and forest to 'their natural denizens.' -</p> - -<p> -And in this spirit Angus was secretly -regarding the unconscious Mr. Holcroft, -who had the genuine Southern idea that -no man of woman born could undervalue -him. -</p> - -<p> -So the little shooting-party united now, -and, not unwillingly, all sat down to have -luncheon, as they were sharply appetised -by long exercise in the keen mountain air, -and on no other tablecloth than the purple -heather; the ample contents of a hamper—game -pies, cold beef, bread, champagne -(cooled in an adjacent runnel), whisky, -and so forth—were laid out by the active -hands of the gillies, expectant of their -own repast when the time came. -</p> - -<p> -They lunched near the mossy ruins of a -clachan—some of those melancholy ruins -so common over all the Highlands, the -traces of a departed people who have -passed away to other lands, evicted by -grasping selfishness to make way for -grouse and deer. -</p> - -<p> -There, the low, shattered gables, an old -well, some gooseberry bushes that marked -'where a garden had been,' were all that -remained of a once populous village, -whose men had often gone forth to fight -for Scotland in the wars of old, and whose -descendants in latter years had manned -more than one company of the Black -Watch in Egypt and the Peninsula. -</p> - -<p> -On the sunny hill-slope close by, a ruined -wall, low and circular—above which appeared -the grey arms of a solitary Celtic cross, -an aged yew-tree, and where long grass -waved in the wind—marked where lay the -last of the clan, whom no human power -could evict or send towards the setting -sun; and these imparted a melancholy to -the solemn scenery, for solemn it was with -all its beauty. -</p> - -<p> -It was of that kind peculiar to some -parts of Perthshire, where the subordinate -hills, rising a thousand feet and more -above the valley, are entirely covered with -dusky pines, taking away all that appearance -of blackness and desolation presented -by naked mountain masses, and adding -softness and beauty to the landscape, which -would otherwise be stern and grim. Nor -were the glassy loch and the murmuring -torrent wanting there, nor those passes -where the mountains approach each other, -and make them, like that of Killiecrankie, -excel even the famous Vale of Tempe. -</p> - -<p> -Though not very impressionable by -Nature, Holcroft, influenced by the good -things he was imbibing, said something -about the beauty of the scenery, to which -Lord Aberfeldie responded, adding, with a -laugh, -</p> - -<p> -'I do enjoy life in a shooting-box, and -of all the entrancing sports to me there is -none like stalking the deer.' -</p> - -<p> -With his sodden knickerbocker suit -drying slowly upon him in the mountain -wind, Holcroft could only assent to this -faintly, and wished, perhaps, that, like -Stratherroch, he wore a kilt, and could -wring the water out of the plaits thereof. -</p> - -<p> -'Of old in Scotland,' resumed Lord -Aberfeldie, as he lit his briar-root pipe, -'no man was deemed perfect in the craft -of hunting till he had landed a salmon -from the pool, shot an eagle on the wing, -and killed a stag. But, when here in a -shooting-box, I always thank heaven that -I am at least fifteen miles from a telegraph -wire, that letters can only come once a -day, and just before dinner, and bills and -lawyers' letters seldom or never at all. -Have a glass of something before you -lunch, Dugald,' he said, addressing his -venerable keeper; 'I know you will prefer -Glenlivet to all the Clicquot and Moet in -the world.' -</p> - -<p> -'A cless, thank you kindly, my lord,' -replied Dugald, touching his bonnet, -'though my mouth can hold more of -whateffer it be.' -</p> - -<p> -And, bowing to the company, Dugald -drained it in quick time. -</p> - -<p> -'I daresay, Holcroft,' said Allan, 'you -would prefer the deer driven to being -stalked?' -</p> - -<p> -'Infinitely!' replied the other, as he -quaffed a bumper of sparkling Moselle. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, I for one do not,' said the Master, -emphatically. -</p> - -<p> -'The Highlander of old would follow a -stag for days, or even for weeks, if -necessary,' observed Lord Aberfeldie, with -kindling eyes, 'sleeping in his plaid among -the heather, he would lie where night -found him. With his long gaff he would -catch a salmon between the water and the -sky; but when stalking he had no -conception of the brutal German battues now so -common in the Highlands, and so degrading -to sport,' he added; in his energy, -forgetting that there was something of -rebuke in his remarks, which certainly made -Holcroft's cheek redden with annoyance, -and his rather shifty eyes to lower. -</p> - -<p> -The Master, aware that this subject was -rather a hobby with his father, hastened -to change the conversation by observing, -</p> - -<p> -'How strange it seems, Stratherroch, -that you and I should be so suddenly here -after all these past years with the -regiment—here among the purple heather and -green bracken again.' -</p> - -<p> -'And a few weeks hence will see us -with it again, and back to the old -pipe-clay routine,' said Cameron. -</p> - -<p> -'Regiments are now no longer what -they were in my time,' said Lord Aberfeldie, -a little irrelevantly, perhaps, but -pursuing his own ideas. 'Examinations, -cramming and useless pedantry, promotion -by selection and compulsory retirement -for the officers, with short service among -the men, render corps no longer what they -were in the old days, each a happy, -movable home. The time when a young -officer often said, with just pride and -noble ambition, "My father and my -grandfather have both commanded <i>this</i> regiment, -and, please God, I hope at some period to -do the same," can never come again! And -what Highland officer now, in the Black -Watch or any other of our national regiments, -is followed to the colours by a band -of his own name and kindred, or can -speak of his comrades as "my father's -people," or "the men from our glen;" -and yet such was the case when yonder -ruined clachan was instinct with village -life, and the voices of children were heard -around its humble hearths.' -</p> - -<p> -'The hero of Ghuznee had a theory that -no Scotsman was fitted to command a -regiment,' said Stratherroch, laughing. -</p> - -<p> -'I know that he detested Scotsmen, and -brought six officers, all Scotsmen, to a -court-martial; and it was then he is said -to have made the statement which cost -him so dear in India.' -</p> - -<p> -'How?' asked Holcroft. -</p> - -<p> -'Because, within an hour after, old -Colonel Wemyss, of the 52nd, paraded -him in rear of the cantonment, and planted -a bullet in his body by way of curing him -of prejudice for the future. Rather a -convincing argument, old Wemyss thought -it,' added Aberfeldie, laughing, as he -knocked the ashes from his cherished briar-root, -put it in its case, and dropped it into his -silver-mounted sporran. -</p> - -<p> -'Talking of regiments, I saw yours at -Portsmouth, Graham,' said Holcroft; 'and -I thought the men looked graceful indeed, -with their kilts over their left shoulders -and their black sporrans waving above -their bronzed faces.' -</p> - -<p> -Whether this was meant as a joke or a -sneer, it is impossible to say; but his -hearers took it as the former, and laughed -accordingly, on which Holcroft added, -</p> - -<p> -'I mean their plaid-shawls over their -shoulders. I remember that Miss -Raymond laughed heartily when I made the -same remark.' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't wonder at that,' said Lord -Aberfeldie. 'Olive is a girl who laughs on -very slight occasions.' -</p> - -<p> -'You have not seen her since your -return,' said Holcroft to Allan Graham. -</p> - -<p> -'No; but I shall very soon now.' -</p> - -<p> -'She is a very handsome girl; what the -deuce have the men been about to leave -her all this time Miss Raymond?' -</p> - -<p> -'All this time? Why, she has not yet -seen her twentieth year,' exclaimed Allan, -with some annoyance, as he thought of the -photo. -</p> - -<p> -'Her costumes are <i>chic</i>,' continued -Holcroft, '<i>chic</i> to a degree! How I admired -her portrait in the Grosvenor Gallery; and -wise was the artist to label it "Fair to -See."' -</p> - -<p> -Allan glanced at his father, and his face -clouded to hear all this—praise though it -was—in the mouth of Hawke Holcroft. -</p> - -<p> -'You have an appreciation of beauty, -apparently,' said young Cameron. -</p> - -<p> -'Who has not? Thus, as Disraeli says, -"the action of lovely woman on our -destiny is increasing," and, as Miss -Raymond——' -</p> - -<p> -'I am Miss Raymond's uncle and guardian,' -said Lord Aberfeldie, rather stiffly, -and to Mr. Holcroft, as it seemed, a little -irrelevantly, though cutting short -whatever he meant to say; for the peer winced -at the way in which his guest referred to -his niece in the hearing of gillies and -gamekeepers, and, more than all, in the -presence of Allan, whose dark eyes wore -rather a lowering expression; but, as all -had hearty appetites after their recent -exercise and long exposure in the keen, -bracing mountain air of an autumn day, -they were inclined to use their knives and -forks rather than their tongues, and the -subject, however pleasing to Mr. Holcroft, -was dropped. -</p> - -<p> -The latter was not a pleasing type of -Englishman, though his air and bearing -were thoroughly those of a gentleman. -He had a good square figure, but his legs -were somewhat of the spindle order, as -his knickerbocker suit revealed. He was -flaxen-haired, fair-skinned, and somewhat -freckled, with a tawny moustache and -pale grey eyes; and strange it was that -these, though weak-looking, cunning, and -shifty, would assume at times, but covertly, -a defiant, even ferocious expression, if -evil passions excited him. -</p> - -<p> -He was almost destitute of eyebrows, -but had a massive chin; and as Allan -Graham regarded him, as he lay stretched -upon the grass leisurely smoking, he by no -means showed his father's sentiment of -friendship for this son of an old friend; -and there grew in his breast a mysterious -instinct—almost a presentiment—that -Holcroft would in some way or other bring -trouble upon them conjunctly or severally. -</p> - -<p> -After the keepers and gillies had their -repast, the luncheon apparatus was packed -up, and, shouldering their rifles, the -party set out for the shooting-box, which -was situated in a pretty glen a few miles -distant. -</p> - -<p> -Angus, who was—as his father boasted—strong -as Cuchullin, again lifted the -deer to the pony's back, and preceded by -the family piper, Ronald Gair, with his -pipes in full blast to the air of 'The -Birks of Aberfeldie,' they departed down -the winding path towards the dark blue -loch that lay at the foot of the solemn, -pine-clad hills. -</p> - -<p> -Like the gillies and keepers, Ronald -was never seen without a sprig of the -<i>Buaidh craob na Laibhreis</i> (the laurel-tree -of victory), the badge of the Grahams, in -his bonnet. -</p> - -<p> -Ronald Gair's locks were silver now, -but they had been dark enough when he -played the Black Watch up the green slopes -of the Alma, through all Central India, to -the gates of Lucknow, and in later times -to the corpse-encumbered swamps of -Coomassie. -</p> - -<p> -Holcroft winced at what he deemed the -dissonance of the pipes, and cursed their -sound in his heart; but he was too -well-bred or too prudent to say anything on -the subject as he strode by Cameron's -side down the strath, with a huge regalia -between his teeth. Indeed, he might have -been pretty well used to their sound by -this time, as Ronald Gair roused the -household with them in the morning, preceded -many a meal—dinner always—and seemed -to spend most of his time in incessant -'tuning up' between. -</p> - -<p> -'I have a suspicion that he is bad form, -this Holcroft,' said Allan to his father, as -they could converse, unheard by the other -two, amid the din of the pipes, which Ronald -blew as if to wake the Seven Sleepers of -Ephesus, or Holgar Danske in his cavern -at Elsinore. 'I have heard that he half -lives on play and his betting-book, and that -his little place in Essex, or rather what -remains of it, is dipped over head and ears. -Indeed, he admitted jocularly to Cameron -that it was mortgaged for thrice its value, -three times over, a fact which would -teach the holders prudence for the future. -Why did you have him here or at Dundargue?' -</p> - -<p> -'Well—his father and I were old -friends, as you know; his father, in fact, -by an act of great bravery, saved my life -at the Alma, when three Russians were at -the point of bayoneting me, as I lay helpless -on the field; so you see, Allan, I cannot -help being at least hospitable to the -poor fellow, and certainly his friend.' -</p> - -<p> -Indeed, Lord Aberfeldie had always been -the latter to Holcroft, and not seldom his -'banker,' but of this Allan knew nothing, -nor was ever likely to know, so far as his -father was concerned. -</p> - -<p> -'He seems to consider Olive an heiress,' -said Allan, after a pause. -</p> - -<p> -'As—of course—she is.' -</p> - -<p> -'And he dared to speak of her under -the slangy name of "cash" to Stratherroch, -as I, by chance, overheard.' -</p> - -<p> -Lord Aberfeldie knitted his dark brows, -and said, -</p> - -<p> -'I detest slang—it is deuced bad form; -but Holcroft belongs, I know, to a horsey -set.' -</p> - -<p> -The sun was setting now, and gradually -his crimson glory was paling in fire on the -hill tops, till it faded out and died away, -and the shadows of the September night -crept upward step by step from the -deep glens below, and one by one the stars -came out above the trees—a sea of dark -and solemn pines that covered all the -mountain slopes—and ere long the red -lights from the curtained windows of the -luxurious shooting-lodge were seen to cast -long lines of wavering radiance across the -bosom of the loch, by the margin of which -it stood. -</p> - -<p> -Ere this, the great greyhound Shiuloch -(whose name means speed) had returned, -drenched with water (showing that he had -pursued the stag into some distant loch) -and bloody with more than one wound -inflicted by antlers. -</p> - -<p> -The sharp-set hunters had dined luxuriously, -and cigars with brandy and soda -had become the order of the night, when -the Master said to his father, -</p> - -<p> -'I think I have had enough of -deer-stalking—three weeks nearly—and -to-morrow I shall start for Dundargue.' -</p> - -<p> -'I think you are wise to do so,' replied -Lord Aberfeldie, with a pointed glance. -</p> - -<p> -'Sorry to lose you, Graham,' said Holcroft, -concealing under a bright smile his -secret annoyance, envy, and alarm, of all -which more anon. -</p> - -<p> -In this sudden resolution Allan Graham -was influenced, perhaps, by some remarks -of his father, the viscount, and pique at -those of Hawke Holcroft, together with a -natural longing to see his mother and -sister, and a growing consciousness that he -had been somewhat remiss and, to say the -least of it, ungallant to his cousin. Thus, -next day, he took his departure for Dundargue; -but he could little foresee all the -bitter complications that were to arise, and -to culminate in the future, through his -merely lingering to stalk deer in his father's -forest. -</p> - -<p> -When he went off, none shook his hand -more warmly than Hawke Holcroft, though -the latter muttered under his breath, -</p> - -<p> -'Fool that I was, not to make my -innings before this fellow came; but if -some people could be put out of the way, -that others might take their place, how -much pleasanter this world would be—to -other people, at least.' -</p> - -<p> -Little did the family of Aberfeldie know -that in Hawke Holcroft they had among -them an unscrupulous adventurer and most -dangerous guest! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER III. -<br /><br /> -UNCLE RAYMOND'S WILL. -</h3> - -<p> -'Marriage, indeed!' exclaimed Olive Raymond, -'it will be time enough to speak of -that when this "laggard in love," your -brother, turns up here at Dundargue. -Besides, all women don't marry, so why -should I?' -</p> - -<p> -'Most pretty ones do, and marry you -must!' replied, with a merry little laugh, -Eveline Graham, the sole daughter of the -house of Aberfeldie, to her English cousin, -as she usually called her. -</p> - -<p> -'Such stuff all this is! Does not the -author of "The Red Rag" say that "if -there is a circumstance calculated to breed -mutual detestation in the minds of two -young people, it is the knowledge that -their respective parents have destined them -for each other!"' -</p> - -<p> -'How readily you quote,' said Eveline. -</p> - -<p> -'Because I have the subject at heart.' -</p> - -<p> -They were posed like a couple of Du -Maurier's fashionable girls, and were -leisurely sipping afternoon tea at a pretty -Chippendale table from an exquisite -Wedgwood service, and, for freedom to -gossip, had dispensed with all attendance. -</p> - -<p> -Both the cousins were handsome girls, -whose bearded, belted, and corsletted -ancestors—portraits of whom hung on the -walls, and who had often -</p> - -<p> - 'Carved at the meal with gloves of steel,'<br /> -</p> - -<p> -in that same Castle of Dundargue—would -have regarded such a repast and such a -beverage as 'afternoon tea' with no small -wonder, and, perhaps, disgust. -</p> - -<p> -Eveline Graham was very softly featured -and slender in figure; but Olive Raymond, -who was the taller of the two, was -more fully developed, yet looked slim as a -Greek goddess in a dress of deep blue that -became her pure complexion and rich -brown hair, with only a tiny bouquet of -white flowers in the brooch at her bosom, -and a multitude of silver bangles—emblems -of conquest, perhaps—like silver fetters, -on her slender and snowy wrists. She -was fair and colourless, with dark grey -violet eyes that looked black under their -jetty fringes at night. -</p> - -<p> -Eveline was more dazzlingly fair, but -more <i>petite</i>, with soft, hazel eyes, and -bright, brown hair that was shot with -gold. She had exquisite hands and feet, -and though <i>petite</i>, as we say, and slender, -she had a peculiar grace and dignity of -manner that only required a brocade-dress, -ruff, and long stomacher to make her like -one of her stately 'forbears,' whose -portraits by Jameson were in the room in -which she sat—a modern portion of the -grim old Castle of Dundargue, the aspect -and construction of which edifice were -very different from those of the additions -that had been made to it in later times. -</p> - -<p> -And as the girls sit there, in the tempered -light of the afternoon sun streaming -through the French windows that open to -a stately balustraded terrace, and sip their -tea leisurely, their conversation will throw -some light upon the past, and perhaps the -future, of certain of our <i>dramatis personæ</i>. -</p> - -<p> -'When Allan returns—'began Eveline. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, don't talk to me again of Allan!' -interrupted Olive Raymond, with a -petulant toss of her pretty head, 'or I will -begin to tease you about Stratherroch.' -</p> - -<p> -'How?' asked Eveline, colouring perceptibly. -</p> - -<p> -'He loves you—and you know he does.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes,' said Eveline, as a soft smile stole -over her mignonne face; 'I cannot doubt -it, though no word from which I could -infer it has ever escaped his lips; but -poor Cameron has little more than his pay. -His paternal acres are mortgaged to the -full—even the shootings and fishings, -believe, don't come to him. I heard -papa express to mamma his surprise that -Cameron could "pull through," as he -phrased it; that he would have no -ineligibles in future dangling about me, -and that—as I have nothing—I must -marry <i>money</i>! That was the word—oh, -how selfish it sounds, and how hateful!' -added the girl, while her rosy little nether -lip quivered. 'Poor Evan!' she -murmured, dreamily; and as she uttered his -name her voice, which was soft even as -Cordelia's, became like that of Annie -Laurie, 'low and sweet.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ineligibles!' said her cousin; 'and yet -he invited here Mr. Holcroft, who is -well-nigh penniless, and against whose -attentions Aunt Aberfeldie specially warned -me.' -</p> - -<p> -'In the interests of Allan, of course.' -</p> - -<p> -'Allan—absurd!' exclaimed Olive, -shrugging her handsome shoulders. 'You all -seem to forget that he can only remember -me as a little girl.' -</p> - -<p> -'Still you are his <i>fiancée</i>.' -</p> - -<p> -'In a manner of way.' -</p> - -<p> -'Distinctly so, if the tenor of your papa's -will is to be observed.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then I think he might have had some -curiosity about me, instead of spending -days at that stupid deer-forest. For all -he knows, I might have been a veritable -fright!' added Olive, with growing pique, -as she glanced at the reflection of her own -beautiful self in an adjacent console-mirror. -'If he thinks that, as Master of Aberfeldie, -he has only to come and see, and -conquer, I shall teach him that he is very -much mistaken.' -</p> - -<p> -'Olive—how can you talk thus?' -expostulated soft little Eveline; 'his delay -is probably all papa's fault.' -</p> - -<p> -'I am sure that I shall hate him then!' -</p> - -<p> -'Query?' said Eveline, with a saucy -smile on her lovely lips. -</p> - -<p> -'There is no query in this case,' persisted -Olive, as she set down her cup with -a jerk; for in her spirit of freedom there -was at times a curious but unexpressed -antagonism in her heart to the family of -Aberfeldie, as if she felt herself somewhat -in their power, and even to her own -disadvantage, and this spirit, which Holcroft -was not slow to discover, had rather -encouraged his hopes. -</p> - -<p> -'He will be sure to love you, at all -events, Olive dear, if he has any sense or -power of observation at all—you are so -pretty—nay, so charming.' -</p> - -<p> -'Any fool may love a pretty face, and -generally does so.' -</p> - -<p> -'But you possess much more than a -pretty face, Olive.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—the fortune which I am to -share with him ere my twenty-fifth year.' -</p> - -<p> -'Or, if you refuse——' -</p> - -<p> -'One half of it goes to him, and the -other, or nearly so, to charitable -institutions,' exclaimed Olive, her sweet face -paling with absolute anger. -</p> - -<p> -'He will love you for yourself alone, I -am assured,' persisted Eveline, in defence -of her brother. 'You are beautiful, Cousin -Olive; you ride, row, dance, play lawn-tennis, -and flirt to perfection. Are not all -these qualities calculated to excite -admiration in a young officer; and then, more -than all, you have such dear, funny ways -with you.' And the warm-hearted girl -concluded by laughing and kissing her cousin -on both cheeks effusively. -</p> - -<p> -The tenor of this remarkable will, -which has been referred to more than -once, was, to say the least of it, peculiar. -</p> - -<p> -Some years before this period, Olive -Raymond arrived at Dundargue an orphan, -left in charge of Lord Aberfeldie—the -child of his only sister, Muriel Graham, -who had married a Mr. Raymond, a poor -man, whom means furnished by the Aberfeldie -family enabled to become one of the -wealthiest planters in Jamaica. Both her -parents had died early, and after her -location at Dundargue she became a species of -sister to Eveline and Allan Graham. -</p> - -<p> -Happy, indeed, was Olive alike in her -Scottish home in the lovely Carse of -Gowrie, and when the family took up their -abode, according to the season or the -sitting of Parliament, at their West-end -residence in London. -</p> - -<p> -By will, Mr. Oliver Raymond left his -entire fortune, which was very -considerable, to his daughter; but, in gratitude to -the family of his wife, on the strange -condition that she was to marry his nephew, -Allan Graham, whose death alone was to -free her from that contingency. If she -unreasonably refused, then, in that case, -after her twenty-fifth year, she was to -forfeit all that would accrue to her, save a -very slender allowance—the share so -forfeited to become the inheritance of her -cousin Allan; and if <i>he</i> declined to wed his -cousin Olive, then, in <i>that</i> case, the money -so forfeited was to go to such Scottish -charitable institutions as Lord Aberfeldie -and the other trustees might select. -</p> - -<p> -This will was, undoubtedly, a strange -one; but then Mr. Raymond had been a -strange and eccentric man, animated by -an intense regard and esteem for the -family of his deceased wife, the Grahams -of Aberfeldie, to whom he felt all his good -fortune had been due. -</p> - -<p> -As children, the tenor of this tyrannical -will in no way affected the relations of -Olive and Allan with each other; and the -latter—a manly and sturdy lad, when at -home from the College of Glenalmond, -where he pursued his studies and cultivated -cricket, boxing, and football—petted -and made much of the violet-eyed and -brown-haired little cousin, who had dropped -among them as if from the clouds; but -after he had joined the Black Watch as a -subaltern, and years passed on, and they -began to be talked of and deemed in the -family circle as an engaged couple, -betrothed, affianced, and all the rest of it, -the young beauty and heiress began to -resent the terms of the will bitterly, -perhaps not unreasonably; she became, as we -have said, antagonistic, and was perplexed -to think that her father could not have -foreseen some difficulties on the part of -his two legatees. -</p> - -<p> -Thus, as they both grew older, she -seldom replied to the letters which Allan -wrote to her, by his parents' desire, -perhaps, rather than his own, till he ceased to -write to her at all, on which she became -severely piqued; and once when she was -a little way on in her 'teens,' and when -Allan was at home for a very brief period -before departing to India, she treated -him with an indifference—almost -animosity—that made him deem the girl wayward, -cold-hearted, even purse-proud, and -everything unpleasant; and with this fatal -impression he rejoined the Black Watch, and -amid many a flirtation might soon have -forgotten the heiress that was growing up -for him at Dundargue, but for the letters -he received from thence, and in which -ample references to her and her beauty -and accomplishments were never omitted; -while she, on the other hand, when she -became of a marriageable age, seldom -ceased to stigmatise the will as outrageous, -indelicate, grotesque, and unjust. -And now that her cousin Allan was coming -home—nay, <i>had</i> come home—for a protracted -period on leave of absence, she felt -that a crisis was at hand in her fate—a -crisis in which she, like a hunted creature, -knew not how to escape. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Allan will soon learn to love you -for your own sake,' returned the gentle -Eveline, after a pause. -</p> - -<p> -'How can I ever be certain of that? -Oh, I owe little indeed to papa, who by -such a will as his seeks to degrade both -your brother and myself,' replied Olive. -</p> - -<p> -'Degrade!' exclaimed Eveline, her hazel -eyes distending. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—by forcing us into a marriage on -one hand, or to accepting starvation on the -other.' -</p> - -<p> -'Starvation!—such strong language, -Olive,' said Eveline, in a tone of rebuke. -</p> - -<p> -Of the alleged tie that bound her to -Allan Graham, and of the latter himself, -personally, she had never thought so -seriously as she had done of <i>late</i>; and, truth -to tell, in the opportunities afforded by -mutual residence in a country house—that -great rambling castle especially—Mr. Hawke -Holcroft, by his subtle attentions -when no one else was near, had begun to -interest her more than Lord or Lady -Aberfeldie could have relished or conceived; -and to her it seemed that for some time -back at Dundargue (continuing a -sentiment he had striven to rouse during a -past season in London) his eyes bad been -telling in imploring and passionate glances -what his lips had not yet the audacity to -utter; but then the girl was young, -enthusiastic, impressionable, and far from -insensible to admiration and flattery. -</p> - -<p> -Though she did not and could not regard -Allan Graham as a lover, and disliked -thus to view him in the light of her -intended husband, circumstances now -compelled her to <i>think</i> of him; and though she -remembered him chiefly as the playmate -of her childhood, she was piqued that he -seemed in no haste to meet and see her, -but instead had openly manifested, as she -thought, indifference and lack of interest -or curiosity, by shooting at Aberfeldie Lodge -for days. -</p> - -<p> -Thus pique made her not indisposed to -encourage the attention of others, -especially of Hawke Holcroft, as we shall show, -when he returned to Dundargue before his -departure for London. -</p> - -<p> -Olive Raymond in her pride of heart -bitterly resented the tenor of her father's -will. She knew that by the chances of -war, climate, and foreign service generally, -she might never have seen her cousin -again; but now the inevitable seemed at -hand, and she felt herself in a measure -set apart for him as fairly as if she had -personally betrothed herself; but was she -to be bound, while he was absolutely free? -And stories she had heard—some of them -artfully and casually dropped by Holcroft—of -more than one flirtation at Chatham -and elsewhere, added to the pique in which -she was indulging. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Aberfeldie now came in through -one of the open French windows for her -cup of afternoon tea, with a bright scarlet -shawl loosely floating over her handsome -head and shapely shoulders, quitting the -terrace, where she had been amusing -herself by feeding the peacocks. -</p> - -<p> -She was looking unusually radiant as -she announced that Angus, the young -keeper, had just come from the shooting -lodge to inform her that the Master would -be home that afternoon, and that his -rooms must be put in order for him -without delay. -</p> - -<p> -So, on hearing this, the wilful Olive -resolved to pay a protracted visit elsewhere, -and to be absent when he did arrive. -</p> - -<p> -No woman understood the art of dressing -better than Lady Aberfeldie, and well -was she aware how truly a dainty maize or -a coral colour with rich black lace -trimmings became her brunette tints, her dark -hair and eyes, her pure, yet slightly olive -complexion. Her whole air was graceful -and queenly, as befitted one who was -always to 'walk in silk attire.' -</p> - -<p> -Lady Aberfeldie never forgot that she -had been the belle of three seasons in -Belgravia, and an heiress to the boot, though -the memories of others might be less -retentive; and now, in her fortieth year, -she was a very handsome blooming woman -still. -</p> - -<p> -'We must have some dinners and no -end of dances and lawn-tennis parties, -mamma, in honour of Allan's return,' said -Eveline, as she assisted her mother to -tea. -</p> - -<p> -'Thank God, my dear boy is home—home -again—and safe at last—after all he -has faced and undergone,' said Lady -Aberfeldie, with a bright and fond expression -in her fine face. 'Why, it seems but -yesterday, Olive, that you and he were little -chits playing together on the lawn or at -Nannie's knee—when you had rag dolls, -and used to sing together of the old -woman that lived in a shoe, or "High upon -Highlands and low upon Tay," or of -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "Alexander, King of Macedon,<br /> - Who conquered the world but Scotland alone;<br /> - When he came to Scotland his courage grew cold,<br /> - To find a little nation courageous and bold,<br /> - So stout and so bold—"<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -You remember the nursery song, Olive?' -</p> - -<p> -'I have forgotten it, aunt.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then I hope you will remember in its -place the adage——' -</p> - -<p> -'What adage?' interrupted Olive sharply. -</p> - -<p> -'That a good son makes a good husband,' -said Lady Aberfeldie, archly, and -laughing as she tapped her niece's soft -cheek with her teaspoon. -</p> - -<p> -'Adages are not to my taste, aunt.' -</p> - -<p> -'Child, what makes you seem so cross -to-day?' -</p> - -<p> -'The weather, perhaps,' suggested Eveline. -</p> - -<p> -But Olive, who had rather a mutinous -expression in her soft face, remained -silent. -</p> - -<p> -'This is bad form in our day of joy,' -said Lady Aberfeldie, who had been eyeing -her closely. 'In society well-bred people -always control their emotions—their feelings.' -</p> - -<p> -'Easy enough for them, aunt.' -</p> - -<p> -'How?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because they have seldom any feelings -to control.' -</p> - -<p> -And to prevent more being said with -reference to Allan—a subject she -dreaded—Olive Raymond withdrew. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER IV. -<br /><br /> -THE GRAHAMS OF DUNDARGUE. -</h3> - -<p> -Who would have imagined that within a -few yards of the elegant and stately -modern drawing-room in which these three -handsome women of the best style were -chatting and sipping their tea, there still -existed within the old walls of Dundargue -a hideous oubliette or bottle dungeon, like -those that were in the Castle of St. Andrews -and ancient peel of Linlithgow—so -named from the French word to 'forget.' -</p> - -<p> -Shaped like a bottle, it was—and -is—totally dark and of great depth, with no -outlet but its narrow mouth, through -which prisoners were precipitated and left -to die. 'Dante,' says Victor Hugo, when -describing that in the Bastille, 'could find -nothing better for the construction of his -hell. These dungeon-funnels usually -terminated in a deep hole like a tub, in -which Dante has placed his Satan, and in -which society placed the criminal -condemned to death. When once a miserable -human being was interred there—farewell -light, air, life, and hope! It never went -out but to the gibbet or the stake. -Sometimes it was left to rot there, and human -justice called that forgetting. Between -mankind and himself the condemned felt -an accumulation of stones and jailers, -and the whole prison was but one -enormous and complicated lock that barred -him out of the living world.' -</p> - -<p> -From such places the shrieks and wails -of despair and death—death from thirst -and hunger—never reach the upper air. -</p> - -<p> -When the oubliette of Dundargue was -examined a few years ago there was found -in it a mass of unctuous-looking mould -that made those shudder who looked upon -it. It was full of skulls and human bones. -Of whom those beings had been even -tradition was silent; but, as some coins -of Edward I. of England were found -among the ghastly remains, they were -supposed to have been certain English -prisoners or fugitives, who, when flying -from the siege of Perth, had fallen into -the hands of Sir Malise Graham of -Dundargue, in the Carse of Gowrie, a -relentless enemy of the invaders of his country, -who said, grimly, 'A few Englishmen less -in the world would make the world all the -better,' and, dropping them successively -into the oubliette, placed a huge stone -over the mouth of it, and 'forgot' all -about them. -</p> - -<p> -From a short distance beyond Dundee, -called 'The Beautiful' in the days of old, -the lovely and fertile Carse of Gowrie, so -famed in Scottish song, stretches far -westward, bounded by the Firth of Tay on -the south, and a line of undulating hills -on the north, till it narrows to a vale -among the rocky eminences that overlook -the fair city of Perth. -</p> - -<p> -The Carse is not quite a dead level, -for here and there slope up wooded or -cultivated elevations, named Inches, -serving to show that in the ages they won -their name the Carse had been a wide, -open lake; but above one of these inches -towers the abrupt, though not very lofty, -rock crowned by the Castle of Dundargue, -an edifice on which the surrounding hills -have looked down for centuries. -</p> - -<p> -Bronze or iron rings, to which the -Romans are said to have moored their -galleys, were lately to be seen in the -rock of Dundargue, and cables have been -found at the foot of the Sidlaw Hills, -relics of the time when an inland sea -rolled its waves against their now grassy -slopes. -</p> - -<p> -The original castle, or strong square -tower, starts flush from the edge of the -rock, out of which its oubliette and lower -vaults are hollowed, standing clear and -minute against the sky, and its machicolated -battlements rise high above the -more florid modern additions of the days -of James VI. and Queen Anne. -</p> - -<p> -From its stone bartizan can be seen the -sweep of the broad, blue Firth of Tay, -with its vessels, the varied surface of the -beautiful Carse of Gowrie clothed with -leafy timber, narrow stripes of sand-edged -land, and long stretches of cultivated -ground, studded with curious old orchards -and ancient and hoary forests of dwarf -oak; and on the north and west the glorious -blue mountains, piled over each other -in ranges, and capped, afar off, by the -historic Grampians. -</p> - -<p> -The earliest portion of the edifice is -said to have been built by Sir Malise -Graham, and possesses the battlemented -bartizan, which was a decided feature in the -architecture of Scotland long before her -intimate connection with the Continent; -and the tenures of many houses in the -vicinity are still held by owners who, if -they had to fulfil the original obligations, -would be compelled to bring to the castle -coal for its fires, beer and beef for its -tables, and oats for the chargers of the -men-at-arms, with cords to bind and hang -prisoners condemned to the dule-tree. -</p> - -<p> -The Grahams, Viscounts of Aberfeldie -and Barons of Dundargue in the peerage -of Scotland, had the barony bestowed on -them in 1600, in consequence of the -bravery of the then laird at the battle -of Benrinnes, six years before, and the -viscounty in 1648, for doughty deeds done -in the wars of the Covenant; but they -had been lairds of Dundargue in days that -were remote indeed—the days of that -Graham who, when expiring of a mortal -wound on the field of Dunbar, gave his -sword—the same weapon now preserved -in the house of Montrose—to his son, -'the Graham' of future battles, 'the Richt -Hand of Wallace,' in whose arms he -expired of a wound, after the battle of -Falkirk, leaving the patronymic of 'gallant' -to all his descendants. -</p> - -<p> -In one apartment hung with Gobelin -tapestry stood a bed wherein Charles II. had -reposed before his coronation at Scone; -and another had been occupied by his -nephew, James VIII., of the Scottish -Jacobites, before he went to visit Castle Lyon, -the guest of John, Lord Aberfeldie, who -declined to sit in the Union Parliament, -and who, to the end of his days, even when -George III. was king, was wont to assert -'that green peas and the other edibles -were always a month later, after that vile -and degrading incorporation,' and that -many a sweet flower never blossomed -again after the White Rose was destroyed -at Culloden. -</p> - -<p> -In right of gift to an ancestor, the -present peer was Hereditary Keeper of -the Royal Palace of Falkland, and as such -wore a key and chain of silver at his neck -on collar days at Windsor and elsewhere. -</p> - -<p> -It was a September afternoon—almost -evening—when the pastures had become -parched, the foliage shrivelled and of -various tints, and high-piled wains came -rocking over the furrowed fields and through -green lanes as the harvest was led home, -that a horseman 'might have been seen' -(to use the phraseology of Mr. G. P. R. James)—nay, -was seen—to ride leisurely -down the Carse and take a flying leap over -a hedge into the great lawn of Dundargue, -and then, after trotting his horse between -belts of trees, he drew his bridle for a few -minutes, while he lingered and regarded -fondly and admiringly the old structure, -which he had not seen for well-nigh seven -years; and Allan, the Master of Aberfeldie—for -he the rider was—thought there was -not in all the Carse of Gowrie another -residence to compare with Dundargue for -the many stories and characteristics that -circle about a house which has been for -ages the home of one family, with all its -historic memories, its traditions and patriotism. -</p> - -<p> -The shadows of the great old trees -under which more than one Scottish king -had blown his hunting-horn fell far along -the turf, that was green as an emerald and -soft as velvet. A semi-transparent haze, -mingling with the sunshine, pervaded the -Carse land; the smoke of an adjacent -village ascended from the hoary orchards -around it, and far eastward fell the shadow -of the tall and weather-worn keep of -Dundargue, with all its tourelles, or Scottish -turrets, tinted redly by the rays of the -setting sun; and Allan's heart swelled as -he looked around, for the love of his native -land was strong within him, and he -recalled the words of an English writer, who -describes it as the place chosen by Nature -as the mirror of her beauty: -</p> - -<p> -'She has planted it in the northern seas, -with its mountains fronting the western -sun, and watered its plains and valleys -with a thousand streams, over which the -lights of heaven are poured with an -illumination and a glory, with an entanglement -and a mingling of all the colours that can -make earth beautiful. There is no land -in all the world which, for the softer -splendours of mountain and fell, wood and -stream, surpasses Scotland!' -</p> - -<p> -And Allan now remembered that the -green ridge on which he had reined up -his horse for a moment or two had been -to him a place of fear, when a child, as -the abode of the <i>Daoine Shi</i>—the goblins -or fairies—who could be heard at work in -the heart of the knoll, busily opening and -shutting great chests, the contents of -which were alleged to be the pillage of -pantries, larders, and meal-girnels; and -once an old housekeeper at Dundargue, -who contrived to circumvent them by -securing the door of her premises, was -struck with blindness, from which she did -not recover till the barrier was removed. -</p> - -<p> -Allan saw a lady suddenly appear upon -a path close by that which led to the -avenue; and she proved to be no other -than Olive Raymond, who, intent on being -absent when he arrived, came thus upon -him face to face, yet neither knew the -other. -</p> - -<p> -On her arm she bore a little basket, with -some presents for her poor pensioners. -The cordiality and kindness of Olive to -the poor and labouring people made the -periodical return of the household from -London and elsewhere more than a matter -for local rejoicing. There were none about -Dundargue but loved her, as they also did -Eveline Graham, though the latter did -less among them; and the Scottish peasantry, -it must be borne in mind, unlike others -elsewhere, are usually too self-reliant and -full of proper pride to accept aid from -Dorcas, blanket, food, or coal societies. -</p> - -<p> -Well mounted, Allan had substituted a -light-grey tweed suit, which well became -his dark complexion, for his shooting-kilt -and jacket, and as a sudden light or -conviction came upon him, aided by a memory -of the photo he had seen in Holcroft's -possession, he sprang from his horse when -the young lady drew near. -</p> - -<p> -'I beg your pardon,' said he, as he -threw the bridle over his arm and lifted -his hat; 'I cannot be mistaken, changed -though you are—you are my cousin, Olive -Raymond?' -</p> - -<p> -She blushed deeply, and said, -</p> - -<p> -'And you—are Allan Graham!' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Olive. Oh! how good, how kind -of you to come and meet me,' he replied, -his heart beating lightly as he looked into -her beautiful face and deftly possessed -himself of her hands. -</p> - -<p> -'Far from it,' she replied, seeking to -release herself, and now growing pale with -positive annoyance at his supposition. 'I -have some duties to do at the village. I -hope you enjoyed your shooting excursion?' -she observed, after a pause. -</p> - -<p> -'I did—and yet——' -</p> - -<p> -'So much so, indeed, that you were in -no haste to come home,' said she, laughing -to conceal her secret vexation at the -rencontre. -</p> - -<p> -Allan found his intended wife all that he -could have wished, and more than he could -have imagined. The little girl he had left, -had now expanded into a tall, proud, and -lovely one—lovelier than he had ever -dreamed of her being; and under her -pretty black velvet hat her grey-violet -eyes regarded him with a curious mixture -of shyness and confusion in their expression, -and—though he did not then detect it—resentment. -</p> - -<p> -When he had last seen his 'little wife,' -as he was wont to call her <i>then</i>, she -was a madcap girl, with all her golden -hair flying far and wide from a pearly -neck and brow, rippling and unconfined. -Now her braided hair was of the richest -brown, and she was the belle of a London -season, and he could not help acknowledging -in his heart the many charms she -possessed, and suddenly becoming very -appreciative thereof. -</p> - -<p> -'I hope Mr. Holcroft is enjoying his -sport among the hills?' said she, after -another pause. -</p> - -<p> -'Never mind Holcroft,' replied Allan, a -little piqued by her manner; 'have you no -welcome for me, Olive?' -</p> - -<p> -'Of course you are glad to be home -again,' said she, evasively. -</p> - -<p> -'I have always loved dear old Dundargue, -even when I came home as a boy -from school, and now I shall love it more -than ever.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'Can you ask me—when you are its -permanent inmate?' -</p> - -<p> -'I may not be so always,' said she, -pointedly. 'Nothing lasts for ever; but -as we are cousins—' she was about to add -something, yet paused. -</p> - -<p> -'And more than mere cousins can ever -be to each other. You might at least give -me your hand, Olive,' said he, drawing -nearer to her as she looked up at him, -earnestly, shyly, and then, he began to think, -rather defiantly, with those wonderful -violet-grey eyes of hers. She gave him -her right hand, and, though cased in a -tight glove, a soft and warm little hand it -felt; but he drew her towards him, and, -ere she could avert the act, was softly and -swiftly kissed by him. -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Don't</i>,' she exclaimed, as she snatched -her fingers from his clasp. 'How dare -you?' she added, repelling him with both -hands outspread, and a laughing indignation -that was <i>not</i> all laughter; but he -looked at the sweet red lips as though he -longed to offend again. -</p> - -<p> -'Olive, how can you treat me thus, after -all these years?' he asked, with an -emotion of annoyance. 'Have you forgotten -what jolly playmates we used to be; how -we went nutting and seeking birds' nests -together, made rag dolls, and chorused -"Alexander, King of Macedon," and so -forth, with our old nurse, Nannie -Mackinnon, the wife of Dugald Glas?' -</p> - -<p> -'I have not forgotten; but I had -thought, or hoped, that you had done -so.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot say,' replied the wilful beauty, -pouting and yet confessing in her secret -heart how handsome he looked, and how -winning he was in eye and manner. -</p> - -<p> -'I remember, too,' said he, laughingly, -'the scores of times we used to wander in -the garden, or on the heather braes, -seeking bees to <i>blob</i> and get the honey out of -them; and when on May mornings you -used to catch a snail by the horns, and -toss it over your left shoulder as an omen -of luck in marriage.' -</p> - -<p> -'Allan, such odious and absurd things -should be forgotten.' -</p> - -<p> -'We were children, then; and what -fun we had when fishing with tinnies in -the burn for minnows and pow-wowits -under the old brig-stone. Do you remember -how I used to climb to get birds' nests -for you, and how we wove fairy caps of -rushes and bluebells in many a green howe -of the Sidlaw Hills?' -</p> - -<p> -'How can you treasure such childish -memories, Allan?' she asked, but with -momentary softness in her manner. -</p> - -<p> -'Because such were very dear to me -when far away in other lands and other -scenes, when the Indian sky was like a -sheet of heated iron overhead, and the -breeze that came from the sandy desert -was like the breath of the death-blast; -when cattle perished by the empty tanks, -the birds sat on the dusty trees with eyes -closed and beaks agape, and when strong -soldiers died on the line of march, stricken -down by sunstroke or sheer exhaustion.' -</p> - -<p> -'Poor Allan!' -</p> - -<p> -'And you are going to the village?' -said he, inquiringly, seeing that she -manifested no desire to return with -him. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'But won't you accompany me home, -now that I have returned?' -</p> - -<p> -'You must excuse me—I do so -enjoy a walk in the evening before -dinner.' -</p> - -<p> -'I have not seen my mother for seven -years,' he said, reproachfully; 'yet, if -you will permit me to accompany you to -the village, I shall do so, and then escort -you home.' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot trespass on your time so -much,' she replied, with a slight <i>soupçon</i> -of sarcasm in her tone; 'besides, what -would Aunt Aberfeldie think of your -being in no haste to see her, after -lingering so long at the deer-forest?' -</p> - -<p> -Allan thought rightly that he now -detected the true source of her pique and -peculiar greeting; but he knew nothing -yet of her bitter opposition to the terms -of her father's will. -</p> - -<p> -'Aunt and Eveline are anxiously waiting -you, so do not let me detain you longer. -If an escort back is requisite, I shall -doubtless find one with ease,' and, nodding her -head smilingly, she tripped down the -tree-shaded avenue and left him; thus he had -no choice, though looking after her with a -sigh, but to remount and ride towards the -house, or rather the castle, of Dundargue. -</p> - -<p> -So—so she had so little interest in him, -in his return and his society—that she -would neither turn back with him nor -permit him to escort her, but had left him to -pay some trumpery visits which she could -do at any other time, day, or hour. -</p> - -<p> -'How was this?' he asked of himself. -'Holcroft has certainly something to do -with it. Why the deuce did my father -bring the fellow here?' -</p> - -<p> -Allan's hitherto languid interest in her -had become quickened by the sight of her -undoubted beauty and grace, and he was, -perhaps, a little unreasonably piqued by -her open indifference as to his return from -remote foreign service, and to his views -and whole affairs. Thus the breach -between these two—if such we may call -it—seemed likely to widen. -</p> - -<p> -In a few minutes more the affectionate -effusiveness of the welcome home accorded -him by his mother and his tender sister -consoled him, but it contrasted in his mind -powerfully and painfully with that of his -cousin; yet he could scarcely expect that -she would have flung her soft arms round -his neck and kissed him again and again -with hungry affection on both cheeks as -they did. -</p> - -<p> -'The pater, dear old fellow, will be -home in the course of a day or two,' said -he. 'Mr. Holcroft is coming with him, -and Stratherroch, of Ours, too,' he added. -</p> - -<p> -He noticed that Eveline's pale cheek -coloured for a moment at the name of the -latter. -</p> - -<p> -'Ah, you know him, it seems?' said he. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, very well,' replied Eveline, frankly. -</p> - -<p> -'He has been at home with the dépôt -lately. A right good sort is Evan Cameron, -but desperately hard up, poor lad. I often -think he will have to exchange for India -or something of that kind, though it would -break his heart to leave the Black Watch.' -</p> - -<p> -Eveline's long lashes drooped as her -brother said this, all unconscious that his -casual remarks were secretly wounding -her. -</p> - -<p> -The expression he could plainly detect -in the sweet and expressive face of his -sister at the mention of Evan Cameron -gave Allan some occasion for thought. -</p> - -<p> -He loved and esteemed his friend and -brother-officer, but felt it would be a -serious misfortune indeed if any affection -took root between him and Eveline; for -Evan was poor, as we have hinted, his -estate valueless to him, and 'at nurse;' -and there was, moreover, a necessity for -Eveline making a wealthy marriage—indeed, -her father, Lord Aberfeldie, had -already a suitor in view for her. -</p> - -<p> -'I am so sorry that our dear Olive is -out,' said Allan's mother, breaking a little -pause; 'but we knew not at what hour to -expect you.' -</p> - -<p> -'I met her in the avenue——' -</p> - -<p> -'And you knew each other—how -strange!' exclaimed Lady Aberfeldie, with -a brightening face. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, after a minute or two. She seems -as charming a girl as one—to use a -soldier's phrase—might see in the longest -day's march.' -</p> - -<p> -'And such she is. She did not turn -back with you?' -</p> - -<p> -'No, mother,' he replied, with hesitation. -</p> - -<p> -'But she was, of course, glad to see -you?' -</p> - -<p> -'I can't say that she was particularly, -mater dear; and she got into a regular -pet because I dared to kiss her, even in a -cousinly way.' -</p> - -<p> -'Dared, my darling boy!' exclaimed his -mother, indignantly. -</p> - -<p> -'Fact, mater,' said the Master, smiling -and twirling up the ends of his long dark -moustaches. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Aberfeldie and her daughter -exchanged a swift and mutual glance; but -the latter knew more of the views of the -young lady in question than the former did. -</p> - -<p> -'I am glad you are pleased with Olive,' -said she; 'and when your acquaintance is -fully resumed you will find the dear girl all -you could wish.' -</p> - -<p> -'She has wonderful blue-grey eyes; they -seem violet-blue when she smiles, and black -when she is angry.' -</p> - -<p> -'Angry?' said Lady Aberfeldie, inquiringly. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, she rather looked so when I -ventured to kiss her in the avenue,' said -Allan, laughing, and referring to a kiss -that, though snatched, he was never to -forget, perhaps, in the long years that -were to come. -</p> - -<p> -'She has grown the very image of her -mother, your poor Aunt Muriel, who was -one of my bridesmaids.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -By visits to the minister's manse and -elsewhere Olive had wilfully and petulantly -contrived to protract her absence from -home to the last moment; the dressing-bell -had rung, and before dinner she was -hastily giving a few touches to her costume—not -that she cared to attract her cousin -(quite the reverse)—but she dismissed her -foreign maid, Clairette Patchouli, on a sign -that Eveline wished to talk with her alone. -</p> - -<p> -'Now, Olive,' began the latter, 'that you -have seen Allan——' -</p> - -<p> -'I saw him years ago,' interrupted Olive, -pettishly. -</p> - -<p> -'He was a boy then; but now that he is -a man, and not the boy you remember, -what do you think of him?' -</p> - -<p> -Olive made no reply, but continued to -slip her bangles on the whitest, roundest, -and most taper pair of arms that ever -bewildered the senses of man. -</p> - -<p> -'Isn't he very handsome?' persisted -Eveline. -</p> - -<p> -'To partial eyes, perhaps, but there are -plenty of men in the world quite as -handsome—even more so, I doubt not. I like -him already, but don't let him think so; -besides, I also like our English visitor, -Mr. Holcroft.' -</p> - -<p> -'I do <i>not</i>!' said Eveline, decisively. -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'He is horsey in bearing, and his face, -though handsome, I grant you, often wears -a sinister, sharp, and supercilious expression.' -</p> - -<p> -'How tanned Allan is by the Indian -sun!' -</p> - -<p> -'I think his face and head both grand -and handsome!' exclaimed his sister, with -affectionate enthusiasm; 'he quite reminds -me of the old Greeks.' -</p> - -<p> -'I was not aware you knew any of them,' -laughed Olive. -</p> - -<p> -'Their sculptures, I mean,' replied -Eveline, as they swept down the great -staircase to the dining-room. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER V. -<br /><br /> -OLIVE AND ALLAN. -</h3> - -<p> -A few days had now passed since Allan -Graham's return to Dundargue, but he -seemed—though greatly attracted by his -cousin Olive, and in a manner compelled to -think of her as something more than a -mere cousin—to make no progress in her -favour at all. Sometimes he smoked beside -her in utter silence, while she swung in a -hammock between two trees on the lawn, -deep—or affecting to be so—in the last -three-volume novel that had come in the -box from Edinburgh; and, when they stole -furtive glances at each other, his were -curious and hers, under the shadow of -her gorgeous Japanese umbrella, were -hostile, defiant at least, and thus not -without a certain drollery; but few remarks -were interchanged of a more exciting -nature than that 'the weather was lovely,' -or 'the leaves were falling.' -</p> - -<p> -In these days, and for long after, Olive -was terribly uncertain in her moods, and -to Allan Graham it seemed at times as if -she almost disliked him. -</p> - -<p> -When they were alone together, which -was seldom, she scarcely spoke to him, -and thus his enforced silence disposed her -to be more silent still. To Olive the whole -situation was one of miserable unrest; she -felt that there was something grotesque -in it, and she longed intensely to be -anywhere else than at Dundargue. -</p> - -<p> -While Allan, admiring her rare beauty -and pretty, petulant ways, was already -learning to love her, he found his tongue -loaded, as it were, tied up, and his -tenderness cramped by the strange tenor of -her father's will, which made him feel that, -love her as he might, that love would never -seem pure, or without the taint of selfishness. -</p> - -<p> -He had procured for her at Malta a -complete suite of gold and pearl-mounted -Maltese jewellery, the best that could be -found in the Strada San Paoli, costing -him more than even he could well afford; -but now so cold and repellant was her -demeanour that he had not the courage as -yet to present the elaborate trinkets—so -rich in fretwork and fine as a gossamer -web—so they were left to repose in their -purple velvet cases. -</p> - -<p> -Yet his thoughts about her were -becoming persistent now. Times there were -when he conceived that he would treat her -judiciously, but tenderly, and in such a -fashion that her feelings must slide into a -species of sisterly, or at least cousinly, -interest in him; but then—at these times—a -flash of her dark grey-blue eyes cast -these intentions to the winds, though -Allan began to feel nothing but passionate -love for her. -</p> - -<p> -To him, as to her, the situation imparted -an awkwardness now, that of course he had -never been conscious of when a boy. He -did not want the money of his cousin or of -anyone else, as he muttered to himself -while tugging and twisting his thick, dark -moustache; and thus, with all the -tenderness that was growing in his heart for -Olive, he often unconsciously adopted -towards her a studied courtesy and almost -indifferent bearing that somewhat galled -her ready pride, and made her think 'this -indifference to me, and the beauty all men -aver I possess, can only spring from a love -he bears some one else; and, with that -love in his heart, he seems actually ready -to conform to the outrageous wishes of -papa!' -</p> - -<p> -And more convinced of this suspicion -did she become when she found that he -evinced no more desire to seek her society -than that of his mother or sister; but this -was the result of her own bearing. -</p> - -<p> -Allan was ere long in sore perplexity. -The slightest attempt at tenderness she -repelled or seemed to shrink from, as a -sensitive plant shrinks from the touch; -and, on the other hand, the lack of it -seemed to increase her coldness and rouse -her sense of pride. -</p> - -<p> -'What the deuce is the meaning of -this?' muttered Allan, as he chanced upon -a volume one day. It was a very -handsome and expensive edition of some of -Byron's poems, which had been given by -Hawke Holcroft to Olive as a birthday -gift, and on turning over the leaves of -which he found innumerable paragraphs -and lines pencilled on pages that seemed -to fall naturally open, where these marks, -all of which referred to love and passion, -were most plentiful. -</p> - -<p> -All of these seemed to have been selected -with an ulterior view for her perusal -and study. Allan knit his brows and -tossed the volume to the other side of -the table. -</p> - -<p> -'So, so,' thought he, 'Cousin Olive has -had a guide for her reading, and the guide -is that fellow Holcroft. He has made -good use of his time, hang him!' -</p> - -<p> -Olive, who had been watching him under -the deep fringes of her eyes, smiled when -she saw the action, and, instantly divining -the reason of it, resolved not to leave her -Byron lying about in future; and now a -new mood seized her. -</p> - -<p> -'Tell me, Allan,' she said, suddenly -looking up from a piece of music she was -studying, 'did you ever think of me at -all when you were all these years far -away in India?' -</p> - -<p> -'Have you forgotten what I told you on -the evening we met on the lawn?' said he, -reproachfully, yet surprised by her taking -the initiative in a conversation, especially -of this kind. 'Often, indeed, did I think -of you!' -</p> - -<p> -'How—in what fashion?' -</p> - -<p> -'As my merry little playmate when I -was a mere youth—the droll girl to whom -I was somehow tied up under Uncle -Raymond's will.' -</p> - -<p> -'You phrase it rightly,' said she, biting -her coral nether lip. 'Tied up; yes, but -I won't be so. Yet you did think of me -as a droll little playmate?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes; how else could I think of you? -Not as the lovely girl I find you now, -Olive.' -</p> - -<p> -'You may know by this time that I hate -all flattery,' said she, blushing hotly at -what she had brought upon herself by a -blunt reference to a hitherto ignored -subject—their mutual relation to each other. -</p> - -<p> -'I have here a gift I brought you from -India,' observed Allan, timidly, as he -unlocked his desk and thought of the Maltese -ornaments, but did not dare refer to them -as yet. -</p> - -<p> -'A gift?' said she, coldly, with face half -averted. -</p> - -<p> -'A little silver idol of Siva, beautifully -carved and chased—will you accept of it?' -</p> - -<p> -'Thanks—with pleasure,' said she, -trembling lest it had been a ring. 'How -curious, and yet how grotesquely hideous it -is!' she added, turning it round, and then -balancing it in the white palm of a slim -and delicate hand. -</p> - -<p> -'And rather a curious story attends -it—if you care to hear.' -</p> - -<p> -'Please to tell me,' said she, her -curiosity roused. 'Why, the funny thing has -ever so many heads, and a dozen of arms -at least!' -</p> - -<p> -'We were in cantonments at Hurdwur, -in Delhi,' said Allan, glad to secure her -attention even for a few minutes, 'when -a subadar-major of the 10th Native Infantry, -a disciple of Siva, wishing to sacrifice -to his little idol, placed it by the bank of -the river there, which is one of the greatest -places for Hindoo purification, and the -resort of thousands of pilgrims from every -part of Hindostan. While he turned aside -to get the ghee with which to anoint it, -some person adroitly carried it off. After -searching for it in vain, with consternation -in his soul, the unfortunate subadar-major -went to the priest of the nearest temple, -and, with tears in his eyes, related his loss. -</p> - -<p> -'"Dog!" exclaimed the priest, "you -have lost your god, and must prepare to -die, for death alone can soothe the wrath -of Siva." -</p> - -<p> -'"If die I must," replied the wretched -subadar-major, with clasped hands and -trembling knees, though a brave man, as -the medals on his breast proved, "it shall -be by drowning in the holy river; so come -with me to the edge thereof, and give me -your blessing." -</p> - -<p> -'The priest consented, and followed him -to the Ganges, into which he went deliberately. -</p> - -<p> -'"Be courageous, my son—die with joy, -and perfect happiness awaits you," -exclaimed the priest. -</p> - -<p> -'"My dear master," said the subadar, -"before I perish, lend me <i>your</i> god that I -may adore it—the water is already up to -my neck." -</p> - -<p> -'The priest consented, and handed his -idol to the subadar-major, who, as if by -accident, let it drop in the deep water. -</p> - -<p> -'"Ah! master," he exclaimed, as if in -horror and dismay, "what a new -misfortune! Your god is also lost, and so we -must die together—for you must drown, -too, and go with me to the throne of -Siva!" -</p> - -<p> -'And, approaching the priest, he strove -to grasp the hand of the latter, who stood -pale and trembling on the lowest step of -the ghaut or landing-place. -</p> - -<p> -'"What trash do you speak?" the priest -suddenly exclaimed, in great wrath; "can -there be any harm in losing a little image -of baked clay, not worth an anna! I have -dozens of such in my temple close by; let -us each choose one, and keep silence on the -subject!" -</p> - -<p> -'The subadar did so then, but chose -this fine silver one, which he bestowed on -me for kindness shown to him when -dying of a wound received in a skirmish, -and I brought it home as a bauble for you, -Cousin Olive.' -</p> - -<p> -She placed the idol on the table, and -remained silent, while Allan eyed her -wistfully. -</p> - -<p> -'Why is my presence so distasteful to -you?' he asked, after a minute's pause. -</p> - -<p> -'Distasteful! Oh! Allan, don't say so,' -said she, impressed by the pathos of his -tone, but for a moment only; 'it is you -who think, or seem to think so.' -</p> - -<p> -'Olive!' he exclaimed, a little impatiently -and reproachfully as he drew near her. -</p> - -<p> -'There—there—that will do,' said she, -starting up, 'don't bring down the -ceiling on me—auntie more than all!' -</p> - -<p> -And she swept from the room, leaving -the idol behind her. -</p> - -<p> -Allan sighed with annoyance, and -addressed her no more during the whole of -that day. She was conscious of this, for -she remarked to Lady Aberfeldie in the -evening, -</p> - -<p> -'How odd—how strange Cousin Allan -is to me!' -</p> - -<p> -'Strange?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, aunt.' -</p> - -<p> -'I know not what you mean, Olive,' she -replied, a little gravely and severely; 'but -to me it seems that you are always strange, -and not my son, the Master.' -</p> - -<p> -Lady Aberfeldie had a soft, but set face -of the classic type, with a mouth that, -though beautiful and aristocratic, could -become very fixed in expression at times, -and it seemed so now to Olive, thus that -young lady withdrew. -</p> - -<p> -'Our Allan is young and handsome, -noble and most unselfishly in love with -her, as I am beginning to hope, Eveline, so -what more would Olive Raymond wish -for?' said Lady Aberfeldie to her daughter. -</p> - -<p> -'She would have that, which she has -not, mamma, perfect freedom to accept or -refuse whom she chose. Unselfish in love -I know Allan must be; but that is precisely -the point which Olive is left to doubt.' -</p> - -<p> -'Wherefore?' -</p> - -<p> -'Through that unlucky will, which -makes a kind of bondswoman of her.' -</p> - -<p> -'I would to heaven the silly document -had never been framed! I have often -feared that it might lead to all our attention, -care, and affection being misconstrued -by her; but Allan might have been sickly, -weakly, even deformed, and, with the terms -of this will hanging over her, what would -she have thought then?' -</p> - -<p> -'Then, as I have heard her say, the will -might be reduced by a court of law.' -</p> - -<p> -At this reply a clouded expression came -into the fair, colourless face of Lady -Aberfeldie, but just then a servant in the -Graham livery, yellow and black, approached -with a note on a salver. -</p> - -<p> -'From papa!' she said, while cutting it -open with a mother-of-pearl knife. 'Just -a line or two to say he will be home in a -couple of days, and is certainly bringing -with him Mr. Hawke Holcroft, "the son -of his old friend," and that other young -detrimental, Stratherroch. He is well-nigh -penniless, but, with your papa, to be -in the Black Watch is quite equal to a -patent of nobility.' -</p> - -<p> -Eveline felt her colour fade, while a sad -expression stole over her soft face, and -her mother, after glancing at her -narrowly, added, -</p> - -<p> -'He also brings our wealthy friend, Sir -Paget Puddicombe, the M.P. for -Slough-cum-Sloggit, in Yorkshire. You remember -him in London last season, and how much -he admired you, dear?' -</p> - -<p> -Eveline <i>did</i> remember him, and how the -rich but elderly baronet's attentions, -encouraged by her parents, were the ridicule -of her girl friends and the bane of her -existence; yet she only sighed and -remained silent, and, passing through a French -window, quitted the drawing-room to join -her brother, who was smoking a cigar on -the terrace, and teasing the peacocks as -they sat on the stately balustrade. -</p> - -<p> -He was in rather a similar mood. He -felt the demeanour of Olive after the little -episode of the idol keenly, and, remembering -the pencilled Byron, was, of course, -inclined to connect Hawke Holcroft with -that demeanour; so he had certainly -become, for a time, cold and constrained in -manner to his cousin. -</p> - -<p> -'When was that photo of Olive done?' -he asked, rather abruptly. -</p> - -<p> -'The one in the ball dress?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'When we were last in Edinburgh; but -I do not remember where the studio was.' -</p> - -<p> -'She gave one to that Mr. Holcroft.' -</p> - -<p> -'I was quite unaware that she did so,' -said Eveline, with some annoyance of -manner. -</p> - -<p> -'Look here, Eve, if, when in London,' -grumbled Allan, 'she shies her photos -about in this fashion they will soon be in -every fellow's possession, and we may, -ere long, expect to find them, like those -of professional beauties, on glove and -match-boxes.' -</p> - -<p> -'What a funny and horrid idea!' said -his sister, passing her arm through his and -nestling her head on his shoulder, while -he, stooping, kissed her <i>mignonne</i> face with -a smiling caress. -</p> - -<p> -'There is nothing funny about it,' he -replied, though, like her, he could little -foresee the trouble that unlucky photograph -was to cost in the future. 'And, to -say the least of it, Olive treats me with -almost hostility at times.' -</p> - -<p> -'She does not conceal from me a -resentment at her lack of free will.' -</p> - -<p> -'As for Uncle Raymond's arrangements, -I would to goodness that he had left all -he had to his old housekeeper and her -infernal screeching cockatoo with the -yellow tuft.' -</p> - -<p> -'Certainly Olive does not seem to be the -kind of girl to be disposed of against her -wish, Allan; you may read that in the firm -tread of her little feet, in the carriage of -her head, and the perfect possession of her -manner.' -</p> - -<p> -'But surely she may be won—though -she will not understand me.' -</p> - -<p> -'I hope she will ere long; but is there -not a writer who says, Allan, that while -the world lasts the difficulty of women -understanding and making allowance for -the feelings of men in what pertains to -love, "will be probably one of the great -sources of darkness and confusion in the -social arrangement of things."' -</p> - -<p> -'What a dear little casuist it is,' said he, -as she raised her <i>petite</i> figure on tip-toe to -kiss his well-tanned cheek; 'but,' he added, -'I am in a state of great uncertainty.' -</p> - -<p> -'Uncertainty can always be ended; but -then perhaps how bitterly—how very -bitterly,' replied Eveline, who was not -without some harrowing thoughts of her own; -and something in her tone caused Allan -to regard her soft hazel eyes, and sweet, -shy face, with tenderness and inquiry. -</p> - -<p> -'Of what are you thinking, or of—<i>whom</i>?' -he whispered, as his arm went -caressing round her, and he stroked her -bright, sheeny hair. -</p> - -<p> -'I may trust you, Allan?' she said, in a -broken voice. -</p> - -<p> -'To death, <i>petite</i>. You are thinking -of—of Evan Cameron?' -</p> - -<p> -Eveline sobbed now. -</p> - -<p> -'Has he spoken of love to you?' asked -Allan, in a low voice, and with a troubled -expression in his face. -</p> - -<p> -'Never; he knows it would be hopeless,' -she replied, huskily. -</p> - -<p> -'Poor Evan! and the governor is bringing -him again—a grand mistake! How -the deuce is all this to end with us? But -don't sob so, my little darling,' he added, -as he drew her closer to him. -</p> - -<p> -Yet, despite her brother's sympathy and -tenderness, Eveline Graham let her tears -flow freely, and he promised to keep her -secret that she and Evan Cameron cherished -an unspoken and hopeless love for -each other; and in a brief space they were -to meet again! -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, though somewhat relieved -by having her brother for a confidant, she -was both restless and unhappy. She -strolled upon the terrace to feed the -peacocks, or wandered listlessly in the garden, -going from occupation to occupation, -taking up a book—one of Mudie's last—only -to toss it aside; seated herself before the -piano, rose then and left it. Anon she -resorted to her sketching-block, sorted her -colours, selected a brush, only to quit any -attempt to work with a hopeless sigh. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VI. -<br /><br /> -THE CHAGRIN OF LOVE. -</h3> - -<p> -Lord Aberfeldie duly arrived at Dundargue -with his three gentlemen visitors, their -approach being heralded by the pipes of -Ronald Gair, who was perched on a seat -of the game-laden wagonette as it bowled -up the avenue. -</p> - -<p> -On the first day of his return the peer -was anxious to learn upon what footing -the cousins were—if Allan had made a -proposal, or 'even opened the trenches,' -and if so, with what success. On these -points he was enlightened by Lady Aberfeldie, -and, though not very much surprised -to find matters as they were, he trusted -to propinquity and cousinly feeling of -intercourse, as trump cards in the game, and -was sure that all would come right in the -end, and before Allan's leave of absence -was out. -</p> - -<p> -There was no selfishness in this desire -of Lord Aberfeldie. He had no power to -alter the matter as it stood, for if she did -not marry Allan if he was willing to marry -her, 'then and in that case,' as the will -had it, her patrimony would be lost even -to herself. Allan's death alone would save -it for her. -</p> - -<p> -Great indeed, thought the girl with -bitterness, must have been her father's regard -for the house of Aberfeldie! -</p> - -<p> -'What friends—such lovers we might -be but for the confounded plans of that -eccentric old fellow!' was the ever-recurring -thought of Allan. -</p> - -<p> -'You are at least fond of her?' said the -peer, as he and his son smoked their -cigars together on the terrace that -overlooked the far-stretching vista of the Carse -of Gowrie, then bathed in the ruddy splendour -of the setting sun. -</p> - -<p> -'Fond of Olive! Yes, as much as she -will permit me to be. She is my cousin, -of course,' replied Allan. -</p> - -<p> -'There is something evasive—doubtful—in -your answer; but you must at some -time or other propose to her. You know -precisely the terms of her father's -remarkable will.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, and that it hangs like a millstone -round the necks of us both, rendering -what may be the dearest wish of our -hearts liable, perhaps, to the grossest -misconstruction. She has more than once -told Eveline that to gain freedom of action -she would face poverty—anything.' -</p> - -<p> -'Tuts! Romantic rant! Much she -knows of what poverty is. But why -should she even think of facing it?' -</p> - -<p> -'To be free and unfettered, as I have -said.' -</p> - -<p> -'Relinquishing to you all that portion -of her fortune which does not go to -charitable institutions?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Poor girl! A silly and impetuous -threat. But she will think better of it, -Allan, by-and-by, and we have fully five -years to count upon yet.' -</p> - -<p> -But it did not seem as if the fair Olive -was likely to change her mind soon, to -judge by her bearing that evening, when, -after dinner, the guests and family at -Dundargue assembled in the drawing-room. -</p> - -<p> -The repast was over, and thereafter, -ere the ladies withdrew, Ronald Gair, with -all his drones in order, his Crimean, -Indian, and Ashanti medals glittering on -his breast, had marched thrice round the -table, according to his daily wont, in 'full -fig,' looking as only a Highland piper or a -peacock can look; and, to the amazement -of Sir Paget Puddicombe and the disgust -of Hawke Holcroft, winding up 'The -Birks of Aberfeldie' by several warlike -skirls at the back of his master's chair—the -dinner, we say, was over, and the -gentlemen had joined the ladies in the -stately drawing-room, which was lighted -by more than one glittering chandelier. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Aberfeldie, his son, and Stratherroch, -as they wore the kilt, had, of course, -substituted for their rough shooting-jackets -others of black cloth, with the -irreproachable white vests and ties as -evening costume, and had also assumed -their silver-mounted dirks; while -Holcroft and one or two more were <i>de rigueur</i> -in the funereal attire, which a writer calls -'the butler-suit, the most hideous clothing -yet hit upon by our species.' -</p> - -<p> -In that brilliant drawing-room, grouped -with well-bred people, were some curious -elements of secret doubt and future -discord that did not quite meet the eye. -</p> - -<p> -Holcroft hung over the chair of Olive -so closely that, at times, the tip of his -long and waxed tawny moustache nearly -touched her head, while she played with -her fan, opening and shutting it listlessly -as they conversed in low tones, he adopting -a sentimental one, though it was ever -his boast that he 'was not one of those -fools who hoard by them dried flowers, -locks of hair, and all that sort of thing.' -</p> - -<p> -Quietly watched by Lady Aberfeldie, -whose lips wore their set expression, Evan -Cameron was entirely occupied with her -daughter, while Allan seemed quite as -intent on a new guest, Miss Logan of -Loganlee, a girl possessed of considerable -personal attractions; and his father talked -politics with Loganlee himself, the parish -minister, and Sir Paget Puddicombe, a -short, pompous, and squat, but rather -pleasant little man, with a prematurely -bald head, which he had a way of jerking -forward from his neck like a turtle, a -rubicund face, two merry eyes, and whose -age was rather doubtful, but too old any -way for a girl of Eveline Graham's years, -though he affected considerable juvenility -of manner. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Aberfeldie, who generally about -that time, when at Dundargue, was wont -to enjoy a quiet little game of chess or -bezique with Olive or Eveline, was rather -bored by the <i>empressement</i> with which the -clergyman, Sir Paget, and Loganlee -discussed politics and the prospects of the -ministry. -</p> - -<p> -The latter, a sombre man, whose air of -respectability was almost oppressive, was -one of a style of men common enough in -Scotland. A small landed proprietor, he -had contrived to become M.P. in the -Liberal interest for a cluster of Scottish -burghs (each of which, if in England, -would have had two members), and -he was chiefly noted—being 'Parliament -House bred'—for neglecting Scottish -interests and toadying to the Lord-Advocate, -and consequently obtained the usual legal -reward, a sheriffship, or something of that -kind, with a thousand a year or so. -</p> - -<p> -He seldom opened his mouth, save to -talk on politics; he was tall and thin, with -very square shoulders, grizzled, sandy, -mutton-chop whiskers, apple-green eyes, -and nothing more about him remarkable, -save a curious air of perpetual self-assertion, -combined, as we have said, with an -oppressive one of respectability. -</p> - -<p> -His host began to change the tenor of the -conversation by hoping that Sir Paget found -his quarters comfortable last night, adding -that he occupied 'the Johnson Room.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why is it so called?' asked Sir Paget, -jerking forward his bald head. -</p> - -<p> -'Dr. Johnson slept a night in Dundargue -when on his famous tour.' -</p> - -<p> -'Of which Boswell makes no mention?' -said Mr. Logan, inquiringly. -</p> - -<p> -'Because my ancestor did not pay him -sufficient deference; and, indeed, I fear -we should scarcely ever have heard of the -literary bear of Bolt Court and Fleet Street -but for that Scotch toady of his. Though -he alleged that the most valuable piece -of timber in Scotland was his walking-stick, -he might have seen some fine trees -at the Birks of Aberfeldy. We must ride -over there, Sir Paget, and I will show you -the cradle of the Black Watch, my old -regiment of immortal memory.' -</p> - -<p> -'How?' -</p> - -<p> -'It was first mustered there on the 25th -of October, 1739.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah!' said Sir Paget, who was not so -much interested in the matter as the -speaker. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Paget was a childless widower, and -had been left a noble fortune in many -ways, including nearly the whole of -Slough-cum-Sloggit, of which his father -rose by his own merits to be mayor. He -had entered the town a tattered lad, with -only a sixpence in his pocket, and, in -due time, the sixpence became the basis -of colossal wealth. He had been made -a baronet by the ministry of the day—no -one knew precisely for what; but the -wealth he left behind him gave his son -an interest in the eyes of Lady Aberfeldie -he was unlikely to attain in the soft hazel -orbs of her daughter. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Paget generally stood with his chest -puffed out, reminding one of a pouter-pigeon, -his little, fat hands interlaced -behind his back, and often as not under -the tails of his coat, his round, -good-humoured face and twinkling eyes turned -up to the faces of those with whom he -conversed, as most men, and women, too, -had the advantage of him in stature. -</p> - -<p> -With a gold <i>pince-nez</i> balanced on his -very pug nose, he was what young ladies -described as 'an absurd little man' whose -tender speeches they laughed at—none -more than Eveline—till matters took a -serious turn, though he failed to feel the -truth of the aphorism, 'Let no lover -cherish sanguine hopes when the object -of his choice has grown to look upon him -in the light of the ridiculous.' -</p> - -<p> -Evan Cameron, we have said, sighed -for Eveline; hopeless as his undeclared -love had been, the presence of the wealthy -English baronet, in conjunction with -certain rumours he had heard, made it more -hopeless than ever; and, unattractive -though Sir Paget's years and figure, he -felt intuitively that in him he had a -dangerous rival. -</p> - -<p> -When he found that this most eligible -<i>parti</i> was again on the <i>tapis</i>—one whose -name had been associated with that of -Eveline in at least one 'society' paper -during the last London season, poor -Stratherroch's heart sank down to zero. He -felt and knew that, with Lady Aberfeldie -especially, he was literally 'nowhere' by -his want of wealth, though, like a true -Highlander, he could trace his lineage -back into the misty times of Celtic -antiquity; but, aristocratic though she was, -the peeress set little store on that. -</p> - -<p> -Eveline Graham seemed as much beyond -his reach as the moon. He felt that, for -his own peace of mind, he ought to quit -Dundargue as soon as possible, yet he -clung desperately to the perilous delight -of the girl's society. -</p> - -<p> -To all appearance, the pair were simply -looking over, almost in silence, a large -book of clear-skied and strongly-shadowed -photos of Indian scenery brought home -by Allan, yet both their hearts had but a -single thought, and, when the downward -glance of his soft grey eyes met hers, she -felt that, in spite of herself, there was -something in it like a magnetic spell. -</p> - -<p> -Passionate and pleading eyes they were, -generous and loving in expression, telling -the tale his lips had not yet uttered, and -might never do so; and the girl lowered -her white lids as if a weight oppressed -them, and the diamond locket on her white -bosom sparkled as a sigh escaped her. -</p> - -<p> -A little way off, in something of the -same pose, Hawke Holcroft, with a glass -in his pale, sinister eye, was hanging, as -we have said, over Olive Raymond, doing -his utmost in <i>sotto voce</i> to fascinate that -young lady, while pretending to translate, -as suited the occasion and himself, for the -edification of his fair listener, the -lettering of one of the Chinese or Japanese -fans that were strewed about the tables. -</p> - -<p> -Now, Mr. Hawke Holcroft knew nothing -about the terms of Mr. Raymond's will, or -of the existence of any such document, and -might never know. He was only certain -that Olive was undoubtedly an heiress; -that he himself was very impecunious, and -ere long might be well-nigh desperate; and -so he did not see why he should not, to -use his own horsey phraseology, 'enter -stakes as well as another.' -</p> - -<p> -Rumour, certainly, had linked the names -of the cousins together; 'but if she is -engaged to Graham,' thought the observant -Holcroft, 'it is strange that she wears no -engagement ring.' -</p> - -<p> -He knew not that, separated as the pair -had been almost from childhood, no such -little formality as the presentation of a -ring could have been gone through; and -now, as the Master did not see his way to it -as yet, Holcroft was 'scoring,'or thought so. -</p> - -<p> -He was leaving nothing unsaid to -enchain her attention. He seemed very -clever: at least he could converse fluently -on many subjects; seemed to have been -everywhere and to have seen everything -worth seeing, or pretended to have done -so, which was most likely. -</p> - -<p> -'However they stand, her heart is not -in it,' was his ever-recurring thought; 'and -if so, why the deuce shouldn't I try my -hand? She has a pot of money—indeed, -no end of money, I hear; but, then, if her -noble aunt and uncle have made up their -noble minds to pounce upon her as a -daughter-in-law, how is she to resist, unless -she elopes, if "Barkis" (meaning Allan) -"is willin'"? They can make her life a -burden to her until she gives in, or—or I -run away with her, and why the devil -should I not?' -</p> - -<p> -Holcroft was an artful man, and well -acquainted with every phase of dissipated -life; he had suave manners when he chose -and an unexceptionable appearance. With -many debts and secret passions, he was -cold and selfish; a man who never made a -move in any way without forecast and -calculation; and who might commit a crime -if driven to it, but never precisely a folly. -</p> - -<p> -He was closely watching Olive while he -conversed with her; he admired her beautiful -person, but still more her ample purse. -She dared to trifle with him at times, he -thought; and then, even when looking -down upon her satin-like hair, her dazzling -white shoulders and innocent violet eyes, -with a vengeful feeling he mentally vowed -that he would <i>compel</i> her to love him, or -accept him, he cared not which, if human -will and cunning failed him not! -</p> - -<p> -He had a love—a passion for her—in a -strange fashion of his own, yet times there -were when he almost hated her for fencing -with him: and little could the soft, bright -beauty, who raised her fine eyes from time -to time to his and conversed so laughingly -with him, have conceived the conflicting -emotions that were concealed in his breast -under a smiling exterior, or the shame and -agony he was yet to cost her. -</p> - -<p> -Even when he attempted to look loving, -there were a cold expression and lack of -colour in his eyes, and there was something -very significant of an iron will about -his lips and powerful chin. -</p> - -<p> -Olive had no warm feeling for Holcroft, -and save for the obnoxious will would -infinitely have preferred her cousin Allan -in the end; but she affected just then to -believe in Platonic friendship (blended -with a little judicious flirtation) so firmly -that, to pique Allan, she showed a great -apparent preference for his would-be -rival. -</p> - -<p> -Olive and Holcroft knew that this seeming -flirtation was perilous work, and might -compromise them both with Lord and -Lady Aberfeldie, and with Allan, too, if it -attracted attention; but Holcroft had a -game to play. Olive's proud little heart -was full of resentment and pique, and then -anything with a spice of danger in it is -always curiously fascinating. -</p> - -<p> -More than all, Olive was beginning to -feel conscious that, under the circumstances, -it was strangely awkward to be in -the same house with Allan Graham—the -intended husband to whom her father had -bequeathed her. But whither could she go? -</p> - -<p> -In more than one instance, in the drawing-room -at Dundargue, that night was -illustrated the aphorism that language is -given us to conceal our thoughts, and -much was exhibited of what the French -not inaptly term the chagrin or peevishness -of love. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VII. -<br /><br /> -LE CHAGRIN D'AMOUR. -</h3> - -<p> -Allan Graham, with all his quiet and -growing love for Olive, seeing how she -received him, neither petted her as he was -wont to do in his boyhood, nor after a time -had attempted any tenderness with her; -but trusted to the progress of events and -the necessity for fulfilling her father's wish -rather than to his own influence or power -of persuasion, aware that she could only -become the bride of another, penniless, or -nearly so, a circumstance which militated -sadly against himself. -</p> - -<p> -But this assumed coldness and calmness -withal, Olive could feel, with a woman's -acuteness in such matters, how much the -expression of his dark eyes and the tone -of his voice changed and softened, -unconsciously, when he looked at and addressed -her. She was of his own blood, like a -sister, whom he might treat with formality -or affection, coldly or playfully, according -to the occasion or the mood, and whom he -might love as much as he liked, or she -would permit. Ah! this tender and -mysterious tie of cousinship must give -him, as he thought, 'a great pull' over -Hawke Holcroft, and every other man. -</p> - -<p> -On this evening, how handsome she -looked, in all her wilfullness! How Allan -longed that he might take her in his -embrace, to kiss her starry eyes, her -peach-like cheek, and sheeny hair with an -ardour he had never felt in his boyhood, -when he had done so many times; but -now, somehow, he dared scarcely think of -such a thing, and there was that fellow -Holcroft, with all his easy insouciance, and -with the smile of one who never laughed -really in his life, hanging just rather too -much over her, with a considerable amount -of empressement in his eyes and manner, -pouring his flowery nothings into her -apparently willing ear, and Lady -Aberfeldie, who could stand this no longer, -became secretly provoked, and opened and -shut her fan of heavy mother-of-pearl with -such vehemence that the sticks rattled. -</p> - -<p> -And, with the emotions we have described -in his heart, Allan, as if the further -to play out the game of cross-purposes, in -a spirit of pique, doubtless, remained in -close attendance on Miss Ruby Logan. -</p> - -<p> -Now the latter was not the heiress of -Loganlee, as she had several brothers; but, -even had she been so, it would not have -enhanced her value in the ambitious -estimation of Lady Aberfeldie. -</p> - -<p> -But Ruby was a very handsome girl, -with a skin pure, transparent, and delicate -as the lining of a shell, while her fine hair -was ample in quantity, and of the darkest -amber; her eyes large, deep-blue, and -fringed by dark lashes. She was large, -full in form, and altogether a bright and -attractive-looking girl, and Olive felt -conscious that she might prove rather a -formidable rival if she ever had to view her as -such. -</p> - -<p> -Replacing the three daughters of the -minister of Dundargue, who had been -afflicting the company with much boarding-school -Mozart and Chopin, who would have -deemed anything national vulgar, to say the -least of it, compared with some lachrymose -drawing-room ballad, and who in a ditty of -great length and mystery, which we quote at -second hand, had informed their hearers— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Mermaids we be,<br /> - Under the blue sea'—<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -replacing them, we say, Ruby Logan sang -to Allan in a rich mezzo-soprano voice, -and with a suppressed emotion, born -perhaps of a coquettish desire to dazzle and -please him, as a handsome young fellow of -good position, all of which proved a fresh -annoyance to my Lady Aberfeldie, who -deemed music at times 'a convenient noise -for drowning conversation, and under -whose shelter the old people talk scandal -and the young people make love,' and who -knew that Miss Logan, like Olive, had -that wonderful charm, which is, perhaps, -one of the greatest any girl can possess, a -lovely and ever-changing expression; and -even Allan, as he gazed down into the -depths of her dark-blue eyes (while she -sang <i>at</i> him), and anon glanced furtively at -Olive, thought to himself, -</p> - -<p> -'How the dickens <i>will</i> our little game of -cross-purposes end?' -</p> - -<p> -Lady Aberfeldie was just then indulging -in the same surmise, as, full of -watchfulness, she occupied an ottoman in the -centre of the inner drawing-room, cresting -up her white throat and well-shaped head; -looking in her stately beauty like the -heroine of some grand old Scottish -romance of the days of Montrose or Prince -Charles, for there was something of a past -age in her style and bearing, though -attired in the latest fashion by a modiste -of Princes Street. -</p> - -<p> -In her matronhood, Lady Aberfeldie -had still that subdued charm which was -not now the beauty of youth, yet stood -very much in place of it; but, with all her -softness of manner, she was a proud and -determined woman, capable of doing much -to accomplish a purpose of her own, and -the marriage of Eveline to Sir Paget -Puddicombe was certainly her purpose at -present. -</p> - -<p> -Thinking that it was high time to make -some change in the general grouping, the -moment Miss Logan's musical performance -was done she summoned Allan to her side -by a wave of her fan. -</p> - -<p> -'So glad I am that your father, who so -often mistakes, invited dear Sir Paget -here,' she said, in low voice. -</p> - -<p> -'He is rather a good sort,' replied Allan, -in his off-hand way; 'capital cellar and -preserves, I have heard.' -</p> - -<p> -'So rich, and not <i>very</i> old; he always -admired Eveline, and she certainly cares -for no one else—thus I have great hopes -for her, Allan,' she added, confidently; but -Allan sighed; he knew better, and recalled -the tears of his gentle sister on the -terrace, and her half murmured admissions of -deep interest in that winsome young -brother-officer, whom he loved so well; -and, as he remained silent, his mother -spoke again. -</p> - -<p> -'Mr. Holcroft seems to be fairly absorbing -Olive; he has been talking to her quite -long enough, and this will not do; ask her -to play something at my request, and do -you lead her to the piano.' -</p> - -<p> -'We are anticipated,' said Allan, as he -saw his sister seat herself at the -instrument with young Cameron by her side, -busy among the leaves of her music; and -a shade of annoyance deepened in the face -of Lady Aberfeldie as she glanced at her -husband, whose eyes were turned also -towards the pair, and she knew from -personal experience how much may be inferred -or deduced from the words of a song, and -also how many a tender speech, an -accompaniment, however ill or well executed, -may conceal. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Aberfeldie, of course, would never -consent to Eveline having a suitor with -means so limited as those of her young -admirer; but, though the idea of such a -contingency had not occurred to him. Lady -Aberfeldie was much sharper and more -suspicious; she saw 'how the tide set,' -and was much opposed to Cameron being -even a visitor at Dundargue in any -way, as an utter 'detrimental,' and -declined to see how his being one of -'Ours'—the Black Watch—altered <i>that</i> -matter. -</p> - -<p> -And now, after a considerable amount -of preluding, much unnecessary whispering, -as 'my lady' thought, much glancing -and many reciprocal smiles, Evan Cameron -began to sing, accompanied by her -daughter; and more annoyed became the matron -on finding the theme chosen one of love -and tenderness that could be, and was, -sung with considerable <i>point</i>—a now -forgotten little Scotch song, which the author -adapted to the air of 'Rousseau's Dream,' -and with the desire to excel before the girl -he loved better than life, young Cameron, -gave his whole soul to the lyric. -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'See the moon o'er cloudless Jura<br /> - Shining in the loch below;<br /> - See the distant mountain towering<br /> - Like a pyramid of snow.<br /> - Scenes of grandeur—scenes of childhood—<br /> - Scenes so dear to love and me!<br /> - Let us roam by bower and wild wood,<br /> - All is lovelier when with <i>thee</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'On Jura's hills the winds are sighing,<br /> - But all is silent in the grove;<br /> - And the leaves with dewdrops glistening<br /> - Sparkle like the eye of love.<br /> - Night so calm, so clear, so cloudless,<br /> - Blessed night to love and me;<br /> - Let us roam by bower and fountain,<br /> - All is lovelier when with <i>thee</i>.'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -And it was not unnoticed by Lady -Aberfeldie that at the closing word of each -verse the eyes of the pair unconsciously -met. Ere Eveline could be prevented, -she had acceded to Cameron's softly uttered -desire that she would sing anything for -<i>him</i>; and she frankly did so, throwing into -her voice the thrill and tenderness that -are sure to come into a girl's utterances -when singing to the man she loves. The -heart of Cameron responded to this -mysterious influence, and, as the girl regarded -him furtively from time to time, she -thought, with his crisp wavy hair, his clear -grey eyes, general expression and bearing, -he looked every inch what he was, the -descendant of that Sir Evan Cameron of -Lochiel who met Cromwell's men in -combat under the shadow of Ben Nevis; yet -to other eyes he seemed just a good sample -of an infantryman who had across his -forehead the genuine sunmark of his craft, -made under the line of his forage-cap by a -scorching tropical sun. -</p> - -<p> -And now when Lady Aberfeldie, to stop -any more musical performances between -these two, prevailed upon Olive to replace -her cousin, she was quick enough to -detect that the former, displeased or piqued -by Allan's apparent attention to Ruby -Logan, swept past him with the most -subtle little touch of disdain in the -carriage of her handsome head. -</p> - -<p> -Now Cameron had once more to give -place to pudgy little Sir Paget, who—puffing -out his chest and jerking forward his -bald shining head—began to do his best -to make himself pleasing to Eveline, while -the latter, under her mother's watchful -eye, was compelled to listen and appear to -act with compliance and complacency; and -poor Eveline, like Olive, often felt with -some compunction that her mother's -general bearing—which a certain quiet yet -lofty dignity seemed never to forsake—was -more calculated to inspire respect than -love. -</p> - -<p> -And Cameron, while he found himself -talking rather absently on regimental -matters with Lord Aberfeldie, as he looked at -Eveline from time to time, was thinking -sadly in his honest heart, -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, what madness it is in me to love -her as I do, and how wicked if I lure her -into loving me! Can I expect her ambitious -mother or her calculating father ever -to view with favour one so penniless as I -am? Would it be honourable in me to -profit by her girlish prepossession in my -favour, and so preclude her from reaping -those advantages of wealth, position, and -rank which she is entitled to expect, and -to which her parents looked forward? and -alas! as the wife of Sir Paget—if such be -her fate—poor Eveline will be lost for ever -to me.' -</p> - -<p> -His breast felt torn by such thoughts -as these; and, sooth to say, it is as often -amid the splendour and luxury of life, as -amid its squalor and poverty, that some of -its bitterest tragedies are acted out. -</p> - -<p> -But now the party began to break up—the -ladies to seek their respective apartments, -and the gentlemen to adjourn for -a time to the smoking-room. -</p> - -<p> -As the two cousins, each so different in -her style of loveliness, crossed the great -apartment, the soft <i>frou-frou</i> of their long -silken dresses seemed to mingle with their -soft laughter and silvery voices. Sir Paget -jerked forward his head and remarked to -his hostess that 'they made a charming -picture.' -</p> - -<p> -Each had a sore place in her heart, but -there was no appearance of it then. -</p> - -<p> -Though resenting the position in which -she was placed, and much inclined to resist -it, Olive Raymond—such is female caprice—also -resented Allan's having hovered so -much about the amber-haired beauty, and, -when she bade him adieu for the night, -she could not help singing softly, with -some point and waggery, as she glanced -back at him, the lines of Tennyson's song: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'I know a maiden fair to see,<br /> - Take care!<br /> - She can both false and friendly be,<br /> - Beware, beware!<br /> - Trust her not, she is fooling thee.'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -But whether she applied the words to -herself or Ruby Logan it puzzled him to divine. -</p> - -<p> -Olive and Eveline were of an age, and -able to sympathise with each other in -every thought or fancy. They had grown -up together like sisters, Olive, as an -orphan, doubtless being the most petted -of the two by the household ever since she -came a little child to Dundargue, and both -were frank, both were open-hearted, and -proud of each other's personal attractions; -and now, dismissing their maids, they -brushed out each other's shining hair that -they might have a quiet gossip together. -</p> - -<p> -'So ends a tiresome night,' said Eveline, -shrugging her white shoulders, which -shone like ivory in the light of the toilette -candles: 'a night when the conversation -of everyone seemed of a nature so antagonistic, -or as if it was all broken up into -wrong duets.' -</p> - -<p> -Like her father, Eveline was anxious to -discover how the cousins were affected -towards each other now; yet the course of -this evening, in which Allan had plainly -flirted with Ruby Logan, while Olive -seemed to have been engrossed by -Mr. Holcroft, did not seem to promise much, -and she hinted this pretty plainly. -</p> - -<p> -'I do think Holcroft loves me, or leads -me to infer that he does,' said Olive, with -a soft smile on her downcast face, as she -took off her rings, bangles, and bracelets, -and tossed them on the marble toilette-table.' -</p> - -<p> -'And you—what is your feeling for -him?' asked Eveline, with some anxiety -in her face and tone; 'not love, I hope.' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't know what I feel—perhaps it -is only a girl's emotion of gratitude and -vanity.' -</p> - -<p> -'I hope it will never be anything more. -You scarcely spoke to poor Allan to-night?' -said Eveline, interrogatively. -</p> - -<p> -'Rather say he scarcely spoke to me! -But we are fated to see quite enough of -each other, I suppose,' replied Olive, as -with slender fingers she coiled and knotted -up the silky masses of her rich brown hair. -'How absurd it is,' she added, petulantly, -'to think, as I have said a hundred times, -that I have a lover cut and dry for me—a -<i>fiancé</i>—ever since he was in jackets and -knickerbockers!' -</p> - -<p> -After a pause, during which she was -critically and approvingly regarding -herself sideways in the swinging cheval-glass, -she said, -</p> - -<p> -'When I heard that he was returning -to Dundargue, I was quite prepared to -dislike him intensely.' -</p> - -<p> -'Olive!' -</p> - -<p> -'Fact, dear; and since then he must -have been sorely puzzled by my various -moods towards him.' -</p> - -<p> -'You speak but with truth in this; and -yet he seems to have been somewhat the -same with you.' -</p> - -<p> -'Poor fellow—but ever so good and kind.' -</p> - -<p> -'And—and you think, Olive dear, that -you are beginning to love him as mamma -wishes?' -</p> - -<p> -'Nay—nay, I cannot admit that.' -</p> - -<p> -'Even to me?' said Eveline, caressing her. -</p> - -<p> -'Even to you. Did you not see his -manner to-night with Ruby Logan?' -</p> - -<p> -'To pique you, if possible, Olive; but -when Allan proposes to you, as I am sure -he will, and must do——' -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Must</i> do!' interrupted Olive. 'Yes—there -it is.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well?' -</p> - -<p> -'Then, and in that case, as the will has -it, I shall tell him that, however I may -esteem and regard him as my cousin, he -can never be more, or nearer, or dearer -than as such.' -</p> - -<p> -Eveline sighed and smiled; but she told -this reply next day to Allan, and hence he -became less in a hurry to bring matters to -an issue, though love was growing in his -heart, nevertheless. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, why is it that women cannot speak -their minds as men do? I wish I dared -run away!' exclaimed the petulant beauty, -beating the carpet with a little impatient -foot. 'To-day I saw two great brown -eagles winging their way skyward from -the rock of Dundargue; and oh! Eveline, -you can't think how long and wistfully I -watched them till they dwindled into tiny -specks.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'They seemed such free agents, and, as -such, to be envied. They had no wills or -last testaments made by others to control -their actions—no parents to rule them in -the matters of love and marriage.' -</p> - -<p> -'How droll you are, Olive! To whom -but you would such speculations occur? -I hope you did not express them to—to——' -</p> - -<p> -'Allan?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not to Allan.' -</p> - -<p> -'To whom then?' -</p> - -<p> -'Mr. Holcroft.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then, you were very wrong to do so,' -said Eveline, almost severely; 'he will be -certain to draw his own deductions therefrom.' -</p> - -<p> -'In something else I was, I fear, wrong too.' -</p> - -<p> -'How?' -</p> - -<p> -'I permitted him to try one of my gold -bangles—one sent me by Allan from Delhi—on -his arm, and it would not come off again.' -</p> - -<p> -'And the bangle?' -</p> - -<p> -'Is still there,' said Olive, laughing, but -not without a little emotion of alarm. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Olive!' exclaimed Eveline, with -something of dismay, 'how could you? -This is worse than the photo.' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VIII. -<br /><br /> -THE RIDING-PARTY. -</h3> - -<p> -For some time the days passed on as they -generally do in a country-house like -Dundargue, and there was all the usual flow -of life and—with three exceptions, Sir -Paget, Holcroft, and Cameron—change of -guests and visitors, with the amusements -wealth can give. -</p> - -<p> -First came the partridge-shooting, and -then the pheasants were to be knocked -over, while the ladies drove almost daily -to the preserves with the luncheon in the -drag or large pony-carriage; there were -hunting days, dinners, luncheons, musical -evenings, carpet dances, and so forth, and -the inevitable lawn-tennis, with the ladies -in bewitching costumes; but still Allan, -damped perhaps by his sister's communications, -'made no way' with his tantalising -cousin, and Hawke Holcroft, on Lord -Aberfeldie's invitation, was still lingering -at Dundargue. -</p> - -<p> -To Allan, Olive had become a part of -his life, and each day seemed only to begin -when he met her at breakfast in her -charming morning toilette, fresh from her -bath and the hands of Mademoiselle Clairette, -her hair dressed to perfection, and -her face radiant with health and beauty. -</p> - -<p> -'How often do I wish she had not a -<i>sous</i>!' sighed Allan. 'Then she might -learn that I love her for herself alone.' -</p> - -<p> -The curious position in which they were -placed relatively made the cousins most -strange to each other, involving much -constraint. -</p> - -<p> -'They are fencing with their feelings,' -was Lord Aberfeldie's conviction. -</p> - -<p> -To Evan Cameron, however, it was -evident that Holcroft was 'making all the -running he could' during Allan's absences -after the game, or apparent occupation -with laughing Ruby Logan, while it became -evident to Sir Paget and more than one -other guest that he got up many a quiet -game at <i>ecarté</i>—that most rooking of all -games—and many a match at billiards -after the ladies had retired; and it was -soon remarked by the same close observers -that he was a singularly successful player, -often pocketing large sums, seldom losing, -and then very slenderly, as if to keep up -appearances. -</p> - -<p> -At Dundargue he felt himself in clover! -He knew, or was aware instinctively, that -neither Lady Aberfeldie nor the Master -cared much about him; but he also knew -that his host was inspired by the kindliest -feelings towards him as the only son of an -early friend and gallant old Crimean -comrade who had gone to his long home. -</p> - -<p> -If any rule governed the erratic life of -the horsey and gambling Holcroft, it was -that of resolutely shutting his eyes against -to-morrow, and letting it take care of -itself; and, now that there was a prospect -of winning a wife with money—and such -a chance seldom came his way—could he -but play his cards well and surely, his -fortune would be made! -</p> - -<p> -He was a mass of absolute selfishness—the -result either of his innate nature or of -his nomadic habits. A life-long bankrupt, -he had been ever readier to borrow than -to lend, to smoke any other fellow's cigars -than his own, and to take every advantage -of the honourable and unsuspecting. -</p> - -<p> -Such was the perilous inmate which a -mistaken sense of kindness, gratitude, and -hospitality had induced Lord Aberfeldie to -make one of the family circle at Dundargue -during the shooting season; and to -whom the advent of the bangle—which, -though it slipped easily upon his wrist, -most mysteriously would not come off it—and -other adventitious circumstances, the -real cause of which he did not know, gave -a considerable amount of what he termed -to himself 'modest assurance' and -confidence of ultimate success. -</p> - -<p> -'I should like to come into a nice little -pot of money—a fortune, if you will—but -not with a girl tacked to it,' he said, on -one occasion, to throw Allan 'off the -scent,' as he thought. 'I am neither -domestic nor ambitious. A few thousands -would do.' -</p> - -<p> -'And make you content?' -</p> - -<p> -'Content! I should feel as happy as -more than once I have been at Monaco, -when I have seen the croupier's rake -pushing a jolly pile of gold across the -<i>trente-et-quarante</i> table towards me, by -Jove.' -</p> - -<p> -It did not occur to him that by little -speeches like this and anecdotes about his -own acumen in the betting ring, he let a -little light in upon the general tenor of -his past and present life, and, all -unconscious that Sir Paget and others listened -with slightly elevated eyebrows, he would -produce a sealskin cigar-case of portentous -dimensions, draw therefrom a great Rio -Hondo cigar, and after carefully manipulating -it, begin to smoke it with intense -satisfaction. -</p> - -<p> -Hawke Holcroft, like Mr. Micawber, -was always waiting for something to 'turn -up' in the way of good for himself, and -now thought he had found that something -in Olive Raymond—an heiress free, he -deemed, to choose for herself—free to be -wooed and won; and on a day when she -proposed a riding-party to visit Macbeth's -Castle of Dunsinane he very nearly had -the hardihood to learn his fate—in the -words of Montrose's song, to put it 'to the -touch, to win or lose it all.' -</p> - -<p> -Drives, riding-parties, and rambles to -visit artistic bits of scenery and the rural -[** Transcriber's note: line missing from source book?] -lions the neighbourhood afforded every -opportunity to those who wished to -cultivate each other's society at Dundargue, -and the expedition proposed by Olive to -visit the ruins of the usurper's castle, -proved the occasion of Mr. Hawke -Holcroft's attempt to advance his own interests. -</p> - -<p> -Whatever Lady Aberfeldie's views were, -her husband had never been called upon -to fulfil the duties of a vigilant guardian -or parent, and to study the difference -between 'detrimentals' and married parties, -so he left the guidance of the whole affair -in the hands of Allan, and remained -closeted with his solicitor. -</p> - -<p> -By judicious manoeuvring, Holcroft -contrived to pair-off with Olive, while Allan -thus became the escort of Ruby Logan, -and Eveline, of course, fell to Sir Paget, -who soon found the truth of the vulgar -adage about two being company, &c., on -their being joined by Stratherroch. -</p> - -<p> -It was a clear and brilliant day early in -October, when the blue sky was flecked -by fleecy clouds, and the far-stretching -scenery of the fertile Carse, overlooked -by the long chain of heights, named the -Sidlaw Hills, lay steeped in sunshine. -</p> - -<p> -The parks of Dundargue, with their -broad acres of velvet-like turf, their stately -oaks and towering beeches, among the gnarled -branches of which legions of gleds were -cawing to each other, and brown squirrels -were gliding to and fro; their hedges of -ancient thorn, and others where the -hawthorn berries showed red and the wild -roses were blooming—the parks, we say, -were left behind, with all their groups of -deer, and the party, certainly a merry and -a well-mounted one, accompanied by the -stag-hounds Shiuloch and Bran, careering -joyously on either hand, followed by a -couple of splendidly-horsed grooms, -cantered along the highway, and ere long -broke, or fell, into that slow and ambling -pace which is suited for conversing with -ease. And Holcroft, who was well versed -in all horsey details, and had a very -appreciative eye, could see that his fair -companion's <i>tout ensemble</i>, her riding -costume, her hat, veil, and gauntlets were -all perfect, from the coils of brown glossy -hair to the little foot that rested firmly in -its tiny stirrup of burnished steel; and -that foot was indeed a model—arched, -small, and always full of character in its -elasticity of tread; and, more than all, -intoxicated by the ambient air, the -sunshine, her own high spirits, and the -pleasure of being mounted on her own -favourite pad, Olive Raymond was looking -her brightest and her best. -</p> - -<p> -He had, while engaging all her attention -in conversation, contrived, unknown to -her, by the pacing of his horse, to leave -the trio referred to at some distance -behind; while, luckily for him, Allan -Graham, lured on by Ruby Logan—who was -something between a flirt and a hoyden—had -gone ahead with her suddenly at a -hand-gallop, and now the pair were out of -sight. -</p> - -<p> -There could be no engagement, despite -all rumour thereof—not even a passing -fancy—between the cousins, was now -Holcroft's conviction, and of his own -ultimate success with Olive he began to have -little doubt, could he but warily mould her -to his purpose; and already in fancy he -saw her thousands—how many there were -he knew not—firmly in his grasp. -</p> - -<p> -Though swallowed up by mortgages, -his place in Essex—or the few acres that -nominally still remained to him there—caused -the retention of his name among -the 'landed gentry of England,' and he -based much upon that circumstance as -aiding his designs on Lord Aberfeldie's -ward, to whom he had sometimes dropped -glowing hints of possession that were not -nor ever had been his. -</p> - -<p> -Something undefined in Olive's manner -rather encouraged him on this day. She, -to show that she resented the apparent -indifference of Allan as being a 'laggard -in love,' even while resenting the tenor of -that family compact which was meant to -bind them together, was disposed to flirt -with Holcroft, out of pique rather than -precise preference, and to annoy Allan. -</p> - -<p> -With the latter present now, Holcroft -became at times a species of difficulty to -Olive. During a past season in London -there had been sundry, not exactly love-passages, -but little coquettings and lingerings -in conservatories that nearly amounted -to such; and he, in ignorance of the -footing in which she was regarded by the -family, was quite inclined, penniless as he -was, or nearly so, to revive, if not -improve, past relations; and this had been -his object from the first day he came to -Dundargue. -</p> - -<p> -And now 'that muscular idiot the Master,' -as he was in the habit of mentally -calling Allan, having cantered out of sight, -he addressed himself more fully to his -companion and the matter in hand. -</p> - -<p> -'I enjoy town to the full—none can do -so more—when I am there, but I love—oh, -I do love—the country!' replied Olive, -in reply to a remark of Holcroft's about -their last London season. -</p> - -<p> -'It is always very romantic, of course, -and all that sort of thing.' -</p> - -<p> -'And with pleasant people about one, -the country becomes so delightful for a -time; and then we girls have such perfect -freedom here.' -</p> - -<p> -'Even an escort is not necessary at times.' -</p> - -<p> -'Unless in the park—beyond that I -always like to have one,' said Olive. -</p> - -<p> -'Are you pleased to have <i>me</i> for one?' -he asked, in a low voice, and pretty -pointedly. -</p> - -<p> -'Of course,' she answered, frankly. -</p> - -<p> -'How charming to be at hand in case -of danger!' -</p> - -<p> -'What possible danger?' asked Olive, -with surprise. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, the untimely appearance of an -infuriated stag or the proverbial mad bull -of the three-volume novel.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why not a brigand or a Bengal tiger?' -said Olive, laughing; then, suddenly -becoming grave, she added—'But, by the -way, talking of Bengal, please to give me -back my bangle.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'Simply because I cannot permit you -to retain it,' she replied, little foreseeing -to what the natural request might lead. -</p> - -<p> -'Do not deprive me of it!' he urged, -softly and entreatingly. -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' asked she, in return; 'for what -reason. It is impossible—what may -people say?' -</p> - -<p> -'What they please, if seen, which it -never shall be.' -</p> - -<p> -'What might they not think?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, what does it matter?' he urged -again, with much would-be sadness and -tenderness. -</p> - -<p> -'Little to you, perhaps, but much to -me,' retorted Olive; 'but I do not choose -that aught should be either thought or said -about it. We shall certainly be accused of -flirting.' -</p> - -<p> -'No, no, Miss Raymond—oh, no, -Olive——' -</p> - -<p> -'Olive!' she repeated, in a startled -manner. -</p> - -<p> -'Pardon me—none could ever accuse -me of flirting with you—that were an -impossibility—for deeper thoughts——' -</p> - -<p> -'My bangle, please, Mr. Holcroft, and at -once!' she said, imperatively, in dread of -what more he might say. -</p> - -<p> -She held forth her hand, but the trinket -either would not come off his wrist, or he -pretended that such was the case. Olive -tried to remove it, but in vain, and -glanced round her, red with vexation. Her -hand was gloved, otherwise she would -have felt how unpleasantly cold and -clammy were the fingers of her would-be -lover. -</p> - -<p> -'Allow me to retain it, even for a -time—though would that I might wear it in -my grave—for a time, in memory of the -darling hopes I have dared to cherish,' he -whispered, in a manner there could be no -mistaking now. -</p> - -<p> -'Spare me this melodramatic sort of -thing, Mr. Holcroft,' said Olive, growing -rather pale; 'I cannot—must not listen -to you.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why—what do you mean?' -</p> - -<p> -'That there are obstacles between us, -even were there not the want of liking,' -she replied, decidedly, but with an agitated -voice. -</p> - -<p> -'Obstacles?' he repeated, inquiringly, -sadly, and certainly with an air of -<i>disappointment</i>; 'am I now to understand that -you are engaged to the Master of Aberfeldie, -as these absurd Scots people call him?' -</p> - -<p> -Olive bit her ruddy nether lip at this -home question; but made no reply. -</p> - -<p> -'What enigma is this? You either are -or you are not. If not, why may not I——' -</p> - -<p> -'I dare not listen to this style of -conversation,' interrupted Olive, with positive -annoyance; 'and you have no right to -force it upon me.' -</p> - -<p> -'After all that has passed?' said he, -reproachfully, and rather feeling as if his -hopes were melting into air. -</p> - -<p> -'I do not understand you,' replied Olive, -whose conscience certainly did reproach -her. -</p> - -<p> -'If I force this conversation—' he began -in a bitter and rather upbraiding tone, -then pausing; 'pardon me if I offend,' he -resumed, with what seemed growing sadness, -while attempting to touch her hand, -yet withdrawing his own in apparent -timidity. 'But am I wrong in deeming your -engagement—or alleged engagement, as -rumour says, made when you were a child—one -in which your woman's heart and -wishes have not been consulted? Tell -me—for I may have to leave Dundargue soon -now.' -</p> - -<p> -She was in some respects but a weak -girl; he a crafty and wily man of the -world; and, though he knew it not in the -least, he was touching her on a very -tender point—yet she replied, firmly enough, -</p> - -<p> -'You have no right to question me; but -say, what has Allan done to you that your -face should darken at the mention of his -name? Is he not your friend?' -</p> - -<p> -'He was.' -</p> - -<p> -'And now——' -</p> - -<p> -'He is no longer so.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'He is my rival.' -</p> - -<p> -She coloured to her temples at this -blunt reply, and all it inferred. -</p> - -<p> -'I loved you long before you ever cared -for me,' he resumed, coolly. -</p> - -<p> -'Sir—how dare you say I ever cared for -you?' exclaimed Olive, her cheeks aflame -now; 'let this subject cease, and be -resumed no more!' -</p> - -<p> -'It breaks my heart to hear you speak -thus.' -</p> - -<p> -'Hearts don't break now-a-days, even in -such romantic places as Dundargue,' said -she, with a sharp little laugh; 'and here -this matter ends.' -</p> - -<p> -He bowed in silence; but, fatally -perhaps for Allan's interests and her own, she -thought, and her vanity was flattered by -the idea: -</p> - -<p> -'Holcroft loves me, despite the tenor of -papa's will—loves me, for myself, of -course; while Allan <i>knows</i> its value to -himself! Surely there is a difference in -this!' -</p> - -<p> -But it was precisely because Holcroft -knew neither of the will nor its spirit that -he took the courage to address her as he -did. Had he done so, that enterprising -gentleman would speedily have 'dropped -out of the hunt,' and, so far as he is -concerned, we should then have no story to tell. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile he did not lose heart, and -thought he had only to wait the fulness of -time for the certainty of winning her, and -with her, wealth—of joy or happiness he -took no heed at all. -</p> - -<p> -By this time, greatly to Olive's relief, -Eveline and her two swains had overtaken -them, and so the matter dropped, though -the minds of both, from two points of -view, were full of it. She would now -have to endure the double annoyance of -being daily in the society of a lover who -had addressed her as such, and of an -<i>intended</i> lover who had scarcely yet -approached the subject! -</p> - -<p> -And, for some reason only known to -herself, she did not tell Eveline, though her -bosom-friend, of what had passed between -herself and Holcroft. The latter, -however, still retained the golden bangle on -which her name was engraved; but for a -time now there was something in her -manner little to the liking of Hawke -Holcroft—full as he was of dreams of her, or -of her fortune rather—of the risks he ran, -and the shifts to which he might be put -ere he handled it. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER IX. -<br /><br /> -THE PICNIC AT DUNSINANE. -</h3> - -<p> -Ambling on together and urging their -horses, but at an easy pace, they soon -drew near the object of their destination—Macbeth's -famous castle of Dunsinane—whither -the portly old butler, Mr. Tappleton, -had preceded them in a wagonette, -freighted with a luxurious luncheon; and, -leaving their cattle in charge of the grooms, -they began the ascent of that peak of the -Sidlaw Hills which has been immortalised -by Shakespeare. -</p> - -<p> -With her riding-skirt thrown over her -left arm, Eveline acted as their guide, and -it may easily be supposed that she solicited -the assistance of Cameron's arm, rather -than that of Sir Paget Puddicombe, who -had quite enough to do in assisting himself -up a path which proved to him, as he said, -'rather a breather.' -</p> - -<p> -It was a winding road cut in the rock, -all the other sides being steep and difficult -of access, and ere long, on reaching the -flat and fertile summit, which commands a -magnificent view of Strathmore and -Blairgowrie, they found themselves within the -strong rampart and deep fosse of what has -once been a great military station of oval -form, two hundred and ten feet long, by -one hundred and thirty broad; and there -they found Allan and Ruby Logan, who -had preceded them, in full possession of -the highest point, whence he was directing -her attention to the chief features in the -scenery, including, of course, Birnam -Wood, fifteen miles distant, 'The Lang -Man's Grave,' a great stone, under which -Macbeth is said to lie—Ruby the while -clinging to his arm in the exuberance of -her delight, and carrying her riding-hat -in her hand, as she was quite aware that -her hair alone, in its wonderful luxuriance, -made her very attractive, it being an -unruly mass of rich, rippling golden amber in -hue, shot with a redder and brighter tint -at times when the sunlight struck it. -</p> - -<p> -Under the splendour of a glorious noon, -while a soft breeze rippled the verdant -grass, the luncheon was proceeded with; -fowls were dissected, pies investigated, -champagne and hock, cool from the ice-pails, -uncorked; all the requisites for a -merry party were there, and yet in the -party itself the chief element of high -spirits was wanting, unless in the instance -of Ruby Logan, who began to flatter -herself that she had made—or nearly so—a -conquest of the Master of Aberfeldie. -</p> - -<p> -Oppressed with the tenor of the -conversation that had so recently passed -between herself and Mr. Holcroft, Olive -Raymond was unusually silent, and, for -her, <i>distraite</i>; and he, remembering the -somewhat decided 'snub' she had so -unexpectedly given him, was somewhat silent -too, but sought consolation in champagne, -while listening rather abstractedly to Sir -Paget Puddicombe descanting on the -traditions of the neighbourhood, as, in -guide-book fashion, he knew all about the -predictions of the weird sisters, the defeat -and death of the usurper, and was full of -the probability that the great dramatist -had visited Dunsinane in person. -</p> - -<p> -But Holcroft only quaffed his liquor, -tugged his tawny moustache from time to -time, and listened with an air of boredom, -mingled with a quizzical expression of -mistrust in his pale grey shifty eyes. -</p> - -<p> -He had seen Macbeth on the stage, of -course, and endured him more than once; -but of the Thane of Cawdor he knew no -more than what he had seen of him behind -the footlights, and had cared to learn no -more; and now it was with some genuine -Cockney bewilderment, as he looked at -the massive trenches around him, he began -to think that 'some such fellow had existed -then.' -</p> - -<p> -Eveline and young Cameron, under Sir -Paget's eye, were both reserved and <i>triste</i>, -and no wine seemed capable of rousing -animation in the lover. He had but one -thought—the end of his leave was -approaching, and when he left Dundargue -he might never again see Eveline Graham. -His heart was heavy. -</p> - -<p> -When the trio were riding together, it -was not that the eyes of Eveline -disappointed him, or that she did not converse -with him fully and earnestly; but he had -detected in the manner of Sir Paget a -provoking air of proprietary and confidence -with regard to her that keenly piqued him, -and could only have been born, he rightly -conjectured, of some recent confidential -arrangement with Lord Aberfeldie; but -the young girl herself was sweetly -unconscious of it all. -</p> - -<p> -His responses had been brief, and he -had ventured on few remarks, aware that -little would escape unnoticed; thus he had -been somewhat silent, while Sir Paget's -easy-going old roadster ambled between -the horses of himself and Eveline, going -pace for pace, Sir Paget's head at each -jerking forward in turtle fashion. -</p> - -<p> -The trio still remained together when -seated on the grass at luncheon, for -neither of the gentlemen were disposed -to quit the side of Eveline, whose colour -might have been noticed to heighten at -a question Sir Paget asked Cameron, of -whom he certainly had a certain jealousy. -</p> - -<p> -'Where does your property of Stratherroch -lie, Mr. Cameron?' -</p> - -<p> -'In Inverness-shire.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah!—mountainous, of course—good -shooting for those who care for such -things—not that I do. Is the land very -remunerative now?' -</p> - -<p> -'To others—not to me,' said Cameron, -a little bitterly. 'A fair inheritance would -be mine, Sir Paget, were Stratherroch -unencumbered. My father was a wild -fellow in his day—as what Highland laird -is not? How some acres were mortgaged -in succession, how others went <i>in toto</i>, -heaven only knows—I don't. The estate -is at nurse now; one day it will be mine -again—but not for years; and I was too -long foolishly sentimental about it.' -</p> - -<p> -'How?' asked Sir Paget. -</p> - -<p> -'I thought I would rather that the -manor-house fell to ruins than pass, even -temporarily, into the possession of -strangers—of others than a Cameron; and now, by -Jove! it has been for years occupied by -one Jones Smithson, of Manchester.' -</p> - -<p> -'Whose rental is clearing it?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes; and meantime I have little more -in this world than my claymore and -commission in the Black Watch,' said Cameron, -with a somewhat hollow laugh and a swift, -sad glance at Eveline; while Sir Paget -smiled complacently as he thought of the -balance at <i>his</i> bankers, and the fat, -unfettered acres that lay round Slough-cum-Sloggit. -</p> - -<p> -'I hope you do not find Dundargue dull, -Sir Paget?' said Eveline, to change a -conversation that rather oppressed her, as she -was sharp enough to divine the thoughts -of both men. -</p> - -<p> -'Assuredly not, Miss Graham; how -could it be so when I am enabled to renew -my intimacy with one who can cast, as it -were, bright sunshine in the most shady -place?' he replied, with an unusual jerk of -his head, a glance of eye, and accentuation -of voice that annoyed her greatly, while -Cameron's lip quivered under his moustache -with mingled irritation and amusement. -</p> - -<p> -And now at luncheon, inspired by a few -bumpers of Clicquot, Sir Paget's glances at -Eveline took occasionally the fashion of -grotesque and languishing leers. -</p> - -<p> -The wealthy baronet was older than she -by a great many years, but they by no -means warranted him being safe from a -love, or passion rather, that might prove -cruel as the grave—the passion of a -middle-aged man for a very handsome young girl, -whose parents were fully disposed to -further his views and their own. It has been -said that 'people for the life of them -cannot be said to believe in the love pangs -of a man over forty, or of a woman over -twenty-nine,' but people may at times be -wrong. -</p> - -<p> -The present epoch was rather a trying -one to Cameron and Eveline. As she had -admitted to Allan, she knew that he loved -her with a love unselfish and unspoken; -and he felt intuitively that he was far from -indifferent to her—knew it by the -indescribable, untaught, and nameless signs by -which a man learns instinctively that a -woman loves him—in a first passion, a -most intoxicating conviction; yet -circumstances blended the happiness of Cameron -with much that was alloy. -</p> - -<p> -To avoid attentions or would-be tender -speeches that might annoy poor Cameron, -Eveline found herself compelled to talk -intently to Sir Paget about local traditions -and superstitions, and, thanks to her old -nurse Nannie, she had—for a fashionable -young lady of the present day—a curious -<i>répertoire</i> of stories about wraiths and -warnings, <i>Daione Shi</i> and other fairies, -who were wont in pre-railway times to -haunt the corries, cairns, and rocks. -</p> - -<p> -'Have you no ghosts in or about -Dundargue?' asked Sir Paget. 'A grand old -mansion is scarcely complete without some -such spectral visitor.' -</p> - -<p> -'Surely that oubliette, whatever it is, of -which I have heard more than once, must -contain something of the kind?' said Holcroft, -in a covert, but detestable kind of -sneering tone, which he could adopt when -his own interests were not concerned. -</p> - -<p> -'In the gallery that leads to it I have -heard of something strange,' said Allan. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, do tell us—what is seen there?' -exclaimed Ruby Logan. -</p> - -<p> -'Nothing—but old servants have a story -to the effect that if anyone remains long -there,' replied Allan, laughing, 'they are -certain to have a strong sense of shadowy -forms—intangible presences—hovering -near them, and dare not turn their heads -to see what they are.' -</p> - -<p> -'We have no decided ghosts, thank -Heaven!' said Eveline, laughing, and all -unconscious of Holcroft's manner. 'There -are none even in the palaces of Holyrood -or Falkland, where terrible things have -been done, so why should there be in poor -old Dundargue? But a spot close by -where we are now lunching is the alleged -scene of a curious event—a very dark -tradition in our family history.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why recur to a story so absurd?' said -Allan. -</p> - -<p> -But she was pressed to explain herself, -and with a shy, sweet smile in her eyes -as she glanced from time to time at Evan -Cameron, and a wonderfully musical modulation -of voice, she told her tale, but not -quite as old nurse Nannie had told it to -her. -</p> - -<p> -'The deep, rocky dell that lies between -this and Dundargue, a few miles distant, -was ever in past times what we find it -now, covered with dense forest-trees, -mingled with alders and silver birches so -thickly as to exclude the rays of the sun, and -it was said to be the haunt of a Urisk or -mountain-goblin—a species of fiend which, -Sir Walter Scott says, tradition avers to -have had a figure half-man and half-goat.' -</p> - -<p> -'In short, the Grecian satyr of classical -antiquity,' said Allan, laughing. -</p> - -<p> -'Be that as it may, the existence of this -particular Urisk was never fairly proved -until the days of one of our ancestors, -Malise Graham of Dundargue, who fought -at the battle of Ben Rinnes against the -Reformers, and had in hiding in the -"Priest's Hole," as it is still called, in -the keep, a wandering Scottish Benedictine, -known only as James of Jerusalem. -</p> - -<p> -'Now, Malise Graham had an only -daughter, Muriel, a girl possessed of that -rare and soft beauty——' -</p> - -<p> -'Which is still the inheritance of her -family,' said Sir Paget, with a most -portentous jerk of his head. -</p> - -<p> -'Please not to interrupt me, or I shall -stop,' exclaimed Eveline, with unconcealed -annoyance. 'Muriel, in her walks near -Dundargue, had made—unknown to her -family—the acquaintance of a handsome -young stranger of winning manners and -prepossessing appearance. -</p> - -<p> -'In the secluded life led in those days -by a maiden of rank, such an event was -of deep and peculiar interest; love -speedily became the sequel, and in truth the -object of it seemed to have been a very -loveable fellow. Thus it was, with many -bitter tears, that one evening she told him -that her frequent absence from home had -been remarked, and that she must meet -him no more in that wooded hollow, especially -as it was the haunt of goblins and -other evil spirits. -</p> - -<p> -'On hearing this, the handsome stranger -laughed till all the dell seemed to re-echo, -caressed her tenderly, and, after urging her -on peril of her truth and soul to come -to the trysting-place at least once again, -left her in haste, as some one was seen to -approach them. -</p> - -<p> -'This proved to be James of Jerusalem, -who is still remembered as the Black -Priest of Dundargue. He wore nothing -that was canonical; to have done so -would have been as much as his life was -worth in those days; thus he was clad in -a sable Geneva cloak and doublet, with -falling bands, and a calotte cap of black -velvet with long lappets. -</p> - -<p> -'He looked deadly pale, and was trembling -in every limb, while he crossed himself -again and again, and said, in a low and -agitated voice, -</p> - -<p> -'"Child Muriel, who is he that left you -in such hot haste just now?" -</p> - -<p> -'But Muriel, -</p> - -<p> - "Crimson with shame, with terror mute,"<br /> -</p> - -<p> -terror of her father, who was a stern and -rigid man, remained silent. -</p> - -<p> -'"Speak, unhappy girl!" urged the priest. -</p> - -<p> -'"I know not his name," she replied, faintly. -</p> - -<p> -'"Why?" -</p> - -<p> -'"He conceals it from me." -</p> - -<p> -'"And why?" -</p> - -<p> -'"I know not; but oh, father, guide and -counsel me, for I love him dearly, as he -loves me." -</p> - -<p> -'"You must meet him——" -</p> - -<p> -'"Once again," she urged, piteously. -</p> - -<p> -'"Never more, I meant to say—never -more. But why say you once again?" -</p> - -<p> -'"I have promised, on my soul's peril." -</p> - -<p> -'"On your soul's peril indeed!" groaned -the priest, in great tribulation; but, in -defiance of all he could urge, Muriel, -though she lived in an age of dark -superstition, of omens and dread, inspired by -her love, stole forth at the usual hour and -entered the dell to meet her lover, for the -last time, as it proved. -</p> - -<p> -'Perhaps it was a prevision of this that -made the wood seem so dark and gloomy, -and even the knots and gnarled branches -of the trees to look like those in the forest -to Undine, fiendish faces and freakish -limbs. -</p> - -<p> -'Muriel knew in her heart that such -meetings were wrong, unbecoming to her -position, and sinful because she concealed -them; but a spell seemed upon her, and -she could not resist it. She took no heed -of the future; she had but one thought, to -be again with him. -</p> - -<p> -'"And oh! why should this meeting be -our last one?" she wailed in her heart, -as he drew her to him, looking so -handsome the while in his black doublet -slashed with red, his ruff and scarlet plume. -</p> - -<p> -'"My own!" said he, caressingly; "my -own, I am aware that yonder dotard, fool -and knave, the mass-monger, has been -seeking to influence your mind against me, -and to part us." -</p> - -<p> -'"And here he stands prepared to do -so!" exclaimed the black priest, as he -suddenly appeared beside them, his eyes -sparkling, but strangely with fear, rage, and -triumph mingling in their expression. -Muriel's lover clasped her to his breast, -and wrapped his scarlet mantle round her. -Then, while his eyes glared with a fire -which fortunately she did not see, he -exclaimed, -</p> - -<p> -'"Stand back, canting liar—stand back, -and begone!" -</p> - -<p> -'"Child Muriel, come to me, in the -name of God!" cried the priest, in sore -agony; but she still clung to her lover, who, -at the name uttered, cowered and shrank, -as in the opera we see Mephistopheles -cower and shrink before the cross-hilted -swords of the soldiers. -</p> - -<p> -'"Muriel, Muriel, you are mine!" -exclaimed her lover, attempting to lift her -from the ground. -</p> - -<p> -'"Take heed, child, ere it is too late," -urged the priest. -</p> - -<p> -'"Dare you advise?" asked the stranger, -mockingly; "does not one day judge -another?" -</p> - -<p> -'"Yes, and the last day judges all—even -such as you!" cried the benedictine; then, -making a sign of the cross in the air, he -exclaimed, 'In nomine Patris et Filii; et -Spiritus Sancti!' -</p> - -<p> -'Scarcely had he done so when, under -the power of his exorcism, the mantle, -ruff, and plume of the pretended knight -turned to bracken leaves, his goblin chain -to wild holly, and he stood forth in all his -deformity, a horror to the eye, half man -and half goat, with the face of a baffled -and exasperated fiend—the Urisk, or wood -goblin; and, with a malignant yell, he -vanished down the fast-darkening dingle!' -</p> - -<p> -'And Muriel?' asked Holcroft, who had -listened to all with such a smile as his face -might be expected to wear. -</p> - -<p> -'Was saved, of course,' said Eveline. -</p> - -<p> -'And lived happy ever after?' -</p> - -<p> -'Well—content at least, let us hope. -She died a nun in the house of the English -Benedictines at Paris—now the convent of -the Val de Grace.' -</p> - -<p> -'And has this legend a moral?' asked -Holcroft, mockingly. -</p> - -<p> -'Of course it has,' answered Allan, rather -bluntly, yet with a quiet smile; 'it gave a -good hint to the girls at Dundargue to -beware of the attentions of unaccredited -strangers.' -</p> - -<p> -Holcroft's colour changed for a moment, -and not unnoticed by Allan; for perhaps, -reading between the lines, all this seemed -somewhat a parable to the former, who -tugged at his yellow moustaches in a way -he did when irritated, heedless that pomade -hongroise was disastrous to straw-coloured -gloves. -</p> - -<p> -The angry gleam that crossed the eyes -of Holcroft was also noticed by Evan -Cameron, who, for some reason as yet -only known to himself, could not abide -him; though certainly the latter did not -cross <i>him</i> by any attentions to the -penniless Eveline Graham. -</p> - -<p> -Her little tradition came as a pleasant -interlude to nearly all, for save Sir -Paget—always confident and genial—no one -seemed quite at ease, as a sense of -cross-purposes brooded over them. -</p> - -<p> -'Tappleton,' cried Allan to the butler, -'another glass of champagne all round; -and then to be off,' he added, swinging -Olive adroitly into her saddle, and thus, -as he thought, anticipating Holcroft, -though the latter, remembering keenly -his recent 'snub,' had no intention of -offering his services just then. -</p> - -<p> -Allan, fearing that he had gone rather -too far with Ruby Logan in attempting to -pique his cousin, now resolved to leave -that young lady to the care of anyone else -in their homeward ride, much to her -surprise and disappointment, and took his -place by the side of Olive, in obedience to -a half-inviting glance she gave him. -</p> - -<p> -He and his sister were, of course, familiar -since childhood with the ruins of Dunsinane -and all their surroundings; but to two -or three of the party, as they turned to -depart, and saw the vast ramparts -reddened by the setting sun, there came to -memory the scene they had so often -witnessed on the stage—Malcolm's army with -the boughs of Birnam in their helmets, -the 'alarms and excursions,' the fierce -and protracted melo-dramatic combat, the -downfall of Macbeth beneath the sword -of Macduff, and the cries of 'Hail, King -of Scotland—King of Scotland, hail!' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER X. -<br /><br /> -THE GOLDEN BANGLE. -</h3> - -<p> -A writer says 'there is the beauty of -youth, and surely there is the beauty of -love, too,' and the latter certainly shone in -the soft eyes of Eveline Graham as she -caracoled her horse in the homeward ride -by the side of young Cameron, and her -eyes, which were ever the mystery of that -face, had now their sweetest smiles for -him. She saw how his face was lighted -up, and was aware how his voice softened -when he addressed her as it softened to -no other woman; and yet, withal, though -no word of love had passed between these -two, right well did they know the secret -of each other's hearts; but poverty -fettered his tongue, and her parents' -ambition and known wishes nearly repressed all -hope in the heart of Eveline. -</p> - -<p> -With all her regard for her father she -had a fear of him, and still more so of her -mother. All their prejudices were in -favour of wealth; but Evan Cameron -appeared to her altogether so dear and -irresistible that she, poor girl, could not -imagine anyone being proof against him, and -with this conviction, and the knowledge -that Allan loved him, she permitted herself -occasionally to live in a kind of fool's -paradise, wherein Sir Paget Puddicombe -had no part. -</p> - -<p> -When her mother was not present, she -played to Evan Cameron, and sang his -favourite songs; she showed him her -drawings for hints and suggestions, -discussed her favourite books, and let him -hang over her chair; and at such times, -though nothing of love was said, there -was a subtle tenderness in Cameron's eye -and voice that made her impulsive heart -quicken, as no man's eye or voice had ever -done before, and young though she was, -Eveline had heard more than one -declaration of love. -</p> - -<p> -And now for a time he had the joy of -having her all to himself, as they -contrived to distance the rest of their party. -</p> - -<p> -But what availed it? Evan knew that, -if once he passed beyond what appeared -to be the merest friendship, his visit to -Dundargue might come to a speedy end, -and its hospitality could never be extended -to him again. -</p> - -<p> -To Evan, Eveline Graham proved, if -we may say so, a kind of revelation after -the rough life he had led of late years in -India—something from another world, as -it were—and thus much of adoration mingled -with his love for her. If dying could -have served Eveline, there and then would -Evan Cameron have died for her! -</p> - -<p> -Whether such enthusiastic passion -might last it was impossible to say, but -time may show. -</p> - -<p> -We have referred to the quiet confidence -of Sir Paget Puddicombe—a confidence -borne of his consciousness of wealth and -assured position. However, he was sharp -enough to see to some extent how Cameron -was attracted by Eveline, and to feel -how the latter preferred the young subaltern's -society to his own; but in a very -short time he knew that the 'detrimental,' -as Lady Aberfeldie called him, would be -again with his regiment, the Black Watch, -perhaps under orders for foreign service; -then he would have the course all to -himself, and doubted not, as Holcroft would -have said, 'to win in a canter.' -</p> - -<p> -Cameron thought the proverb right -about there being no fool like an old one; -but then, every old fool had not Sir Paget's -bank-book, and the preference and influence -of parents to back up his folly. But -with a handsome figure, and his V.C., how -much more was Cameron like the object of -a young girl's eye than Sir Paget could -ever be! -</p> - -<p> -'It was in the Kurram Pass, in Afghanistan, -that you gained the Victoria Cross, -Mr. Cameron?' said Eveline, breaking a -pause in the conversation, and shortening -her reins, while he checked the pace of -his horse, and replied, with a pleased -smile, -</p> - -<p> -'Yes; but how do you know that, Miss -Graham—from your brother, the Master?' -</p> - -<p> -'No.' -</p> - -<p> -'I have never spoken of it.' -</p> - -<p> -'I read it in the Army List,' replied -Eveline, candidly, and to hear her say so -made the bronze cross of more value to -him than the Garter would have been. -</p> - -<p> -She had read it, and committed the -episode to heart too—how 'the Queen had -been graciously pleased to signify her -intention of conferring the decoration of the -Victoria Cross' on Lieutenant Evan -Cameron, of the —th Foot, and now of the -Black Watch, for a daring act of bravery -on a date given, when the retreating forces -were attacked by Afghans in great -strength, the latter having pushed forward -upon the position at daybreak, and -Lieutenant Cameron, accompanied by only five -soldiers, captured a nine-pounder gun, -shooting down or bayonetting all the -gunners, and thus preventing the destructive -use of the piece, which he brought off with -the loss of one man, but in the conflict -received three severe tulwar wounds. -</p> - -<p> -Cameron was an enthusiast in his profession, -and with outwardly the air of a -well-bred man of the world, and thoroughly -so that of a young Line officer, he had in -his nature a deep sentiment of nationality, -of clanship, and Highland romance, with -an intense pride in his regiment. He had -entertained Eveline often with sketches, -anecdotes, and traditions of the Black -Watch, but of himself and his V.C., of -course, he never spoke. -</p> - -<p> -'What a proud moment it must have -been for you, when you knew that you had -won the cross!' said the girl, with a flush -on her soft cheek. -</p> - -<p> -Stirred in his soul by the interest she -took in him, the great secret of his heart -was trembling on his lips, but he repressed -it, and a shadow came into his face and a -wistfulness into his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'Prouder would I have been, Miss -Graham,' said he, 'if—if—I—— -</p> - -<p> -'What?' -</p> - -<p> -'I had then been known even by name -to <i>you</i>?' he replied, in a low voice, and -with a manner there was no mistaking. -</p> - -<p> -Nothing more was said then; yet they -both felt, while eye met eye, that their -first words of love had been spoken. -</p> - -<p> -More might, perhaps, have passed, as -the subject could easily have been enlarged -on; but just then they were abruptly -joined by Allan, who came up at a trot and -reined in his horse sharply by their side, -with a dark expression on his face, which -Eveline thought augured ill for his success -with Olive, whom he had suddenly left in -the care of Mr. Hawke Holcroft. -</p> - -<p> -After quitting the ruins, as Allan rode -on by his cousin's side, his memory had -gone back to the days when she was a girl -of some twelve years or so—a bright-eyed -hoyden, who could fish, even take a shot -from his gun, climb trees, eat apples right -off the branch, play marbles with him, -grasp a trout darting in the burn under -the long yellow broom or purple brambles, -and was his companion in many a ramble -and out-door frolic; and now inspired by -that memory, the scenery and beauty of -the evening, he felt himself disposed to -treat with considerable tenderness the -lovely girl he hoped to make yet his own. -</p> - -<p> -On the other hand, Olive cared little to -please him, and for a time she almost -repelled, and yet by doing so she greatly -lured and attracted him. -</p> - -<p> -The friendship of Allan and Olive was a -source of some perplexity, if not amusement, -to Eveline Graham, but of irritation -to her mother, to whom they never seemed -to act as lovers at all, unless in 'the Scots -fashion' of pouting and quarrelling. -</p> - -<p> -To the eyes of all interested in the matter, -it did not seem that she cared for him -in the least. She never altered a plan or -hastened her pace to meet him, or go where -he might chance to be—in the library, on -the terrace smoking, or in any of the -quaint corridors that traversed the old -house. She never adopted a dress, a -ribbon, or ornament to please his eye, -though she sometimes did, coquettishly, -he thought, to flatter Hawke Holcroft; -and even now, as they were slowly -traversing the dark, woody dell of the -legend—the <i>Coire-nan-Uriskin</i>—she was humming, -half in warning, half in waggery, Tennyson's song: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'She can both false and friendly be,<br /> - Beware! beware!<br /> - Trust her not, she is fooling thee!'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -And yet, as she glanced at her soldierly -cousin from time to time under her long, -dark lashes, she thought that, though he -looked stately in the kilt, he seldom looked -better than now when in riding costume, -with the smartest of light grey cover coats. -</p> - -<p> -The girl's mind vibrated curiously between -her over-sensitive pride, her wishes, -her doubts, and half convictions. -</p> - -<p> -If pique at her position in the family -with Allan had made her accept, with a -certain degree of equanimity, the attentions -of Holcroft, she now began to feel a -pleasure that she had not more fully -encouraged them. -</p> - -<p> -At such moments as the present Allan -felt that this fair girl, who had ever been -his friend—cherished as a sister—this -sweet cousin with the violet eyes and rich -brown hair—was dear to him with a -tenderness to which he could scarcely give a -name, unless it were purest love; and she -might have read it in his eyes, intense and -strong, but for that spirit of wilfulness -which led her to temporise—was it to -tyrannise?—or play with it and him. -</p> - -<p> -But may a girl really love a man till she -is certain of being loved in return? For -Allan, baffled by her manner, had said -nothing very pointed as yet, as if he based -all their future on her father's will; and -times there were when in pique he dropped -his way of treating her half playfully, half -deferentially, and became absolutely cold. -</p> - -<p> -In fact, the thoughts of Olive, apart -from her jealous pride, were somewhat -difficult to analyse; but, as yet, she -deemed that she could only regard him -with a kind of sisterly attention; while he, -when not irritated by the presence of -Holcroft, would say to Eveline, -</p> - -<p> -'When we are alone, and can slip back -into our old memories, I shall soon teach -her to love me.' -</p> - -<p> -'But meantime,' replied his sister, 'you -are the most tiresome couple in the -world.' -</p> - -<p> -'I wish Mr. Holcroft or some one else -would join us,' said Olive, looking round -in her saddle. -</p> - -<p> -'Why, it is always Mr. Holcroft!' exclaimed Allan. -</p> - -<p> -'You are so provokingly silent. For -more than a mile you have not once -spoken to me. It is stupid to be so <i>triste</i>! -Surely there is some one else whose society -you prefer, or with whom you would be -more lively?' -</p> - -<p> -'Olive!' said he, on hearing this blunt -and pointed remark—both curiously so for -her. 'You are surely not jealous of -anyone?' he added. -</p> - -<p> -'Jealous!' echoed the girl, with a strange -but affected kind of lazy scorn; 'why -should I be so, and of <i>whom</i>?' -</p> - -<p> -'Well may you ask, of whom could you -be so?' replied Allan, pointedly—so much -so that she coloured; 'though I, of course, -matter little to you.' -</p> - -<p> -'Allan, you are very wrong to say so,' -said the girl, softly. -</p> - -<p> -'Then I am not quite indifferent to -you?' urged Allan, impulsively now; 'you -do care for me a little?' -</p> - -<p> -'Certainly—a good deal, if it is any -satisfaction to you; but there—don't touch -my bridle hand, or you will make my horse -shy. How can you be so tiresome!' -</p> - -<p> -Allan sighed, and yet he regarded her, -in her loveliness and insouciance, with an -expression just then of mingled amusement, -annoyance, and regard in his dark -hazel eyes. -</p> - -<p> -With all the love that had been growing -in his heart for Olive, he had been in no -hurry to urge his suit, for, though -impetuous by nature, he could be reserved and -cautious enough at times; but now his -heart flew to his head, and he said, -bluntly, -</p> - -<p> -'Dearest Olive, will you promise to love -me—to marry me?' -</p> - -<p> -'Why require any promise about the -matter?' she replied, as all her wilfulness -returned; 'has not my father promised for -me—bequeathed me to you like a bale of -goods, or condemned me to poverty!' she -added, with a bitter laugh on her lips that -curled with anger. 'I wonder that he did -not order that I was to be locked up and -fed on bread and water till I gave my -consent to marry you, or that I was to be -dropped into that oubliette which exists -somewhere in Dundargue.' -</p> - -<p> -'Cousin Olive,' said he, reproachfully, -'why this pride and doubt of my purpose? -You are as cruel as you are beautiful.' -</p> - -<p> -'This is worse than anything you have -ever said to me,' she cried, with angry -laughter still. -</p> - -<p> -'Worse?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, an attempt at gross straightforward -compliment, as if I was a girl at a -railway buffet.' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't you like to be complimented?' -</p> - -<p> -'By some people—yes,' was the petulant -reply. -</p> - -<p> -'All the girls I have ever known have -liked pretty, flattering speeches.' -</p> - -<p> -'But I am different, I hope, from most -of the girls you have known.' -</p> - -<p> -'By Jove you are!' replied the Master, -twisting his moustache till he made himself -wince; 'but will I never be more to -you than I am now?' -</p> - -<p> -'Never more than my cousin—what -would you desire to be? But here comes -Mr. Holcroft, to whom I certainly made -no sign,' she added, with some annoyance, -as she thought of what had so lately passed -between them; and then, so variable was -her emotion, that she laughed as she -thought—'Two proposals in one day, and -both made in the saddle too—how droll!' -</p> - -<p> -Allan misinterpreted her silent laugh as -a welcome to Holcroft, and shrank from -his own angry fears—they were not -convictions yet—lest he should adopt that -meanest passion of the whole category—jealousy -without a just cause—jealousy -of one inferior to him in social position, -and certainly in personal attractions. -</p> - -<p> -When reduced to act cavalier to Miss -Ruby Logan, who certainly did not want -him, Hawke Holcroft had looked darkly -after the cousins as they rode off together, -and thought that nothing short of death -would prevent him from accomplishing -the object he had now in view ere he left -Dundargue. -</p> - -<p> -From something in the manner of the -cousins, he—a close observer—augured -that Allan had not made his 'innings' -with the heiress, yet he cantered up to -Allan's side, and said, smilingly to Olive, -</p> - -<p> -'May I smoke, Miss Raymond? The -road is quite lonely, and if not disagreeable -to you——' -</p> - -<p> -'Certainly,' said she, curtly. -</p> - -<p> -'And I shall join you,' added Allan. -'Can you oblige me with a light, Holcroft?' -</p> - -<p> -Cigars were selected, and Holcroft -handed his silver matchbox to Allan, who, -with a leap of his heart, though without -changing colour or a muscle of his dark and -sunburned face, saw on his rival's wrist -his own gift sent from Delhi, the gold -bangle, which Olive had, perhaps, for the -time forgotten, and on which was her own -name in raised Roman letters. -</p> - -<p> -He had seen Holcroft in rather close -proximity to her during the most of the -day, and if piqued thereat, more than ever -was he piqued and startled now, and -abruptly wheeling round his horse, he -muttered some excuse and joined his sister -and his friend Cameron, while the words -of the song came ominously back to -memory— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Trust her not, she is fooling thee.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -The bangle! He blushed to think of it, -and shrank as yet from speaking of it, -even to Eveline, for he was altogether -unaware of under what circumstances -Holcroft came to possess it, or the effort -Olive had made to procure its return -without success, but imagination and -jealousy now did much to fill his heart -with secret fury. -</p> - -<p> -Would the future hold love or hatred -for these two cousins? It seemed just -then difficult to say. -</p> - -<p> -Like Eveline, he thought the gift of the -photo a trifle when compared with this, yet -the photo was eventually to prove the -most serious and troublesome gift of the -two. -</p> - -<p> -Wounded self-esteem, disquiet, and -intense mortification reigned supreme in the -mind of the somewhat proud young Master -of Aberfeldie; but he felt himself -necessitated to dissemble. Hawke Holcroft was -his father's guest, the son of his father's -oldest and most valued friend; and while -at Dundargue it would be necessary to -treat him with courtesy, though Allan -never doubted that he was a 'leg,' and -resolved that his courtesy would be -blended with watchfulness, if—bitter -thought—Olive was now worth watching over! -</p> - -<p> -Unprepared for such a crisis or catastrophe -as the discovery of the bangle, and -ignorant that Allan had made it, when a -carpet-dance took place that evening at -Dundargue, though Olive was arrayed in -one of her most becoming toilettes for -him, and him alone, he never even -addressed her or looked near her; and, black -though his brow, he entirely occupied -himself with Ruby Logan; and, provoked by -this, Olive again endured the attention of -Holcroft, and thought to play—or affect to -play—with them <i>both</i>. -</p> - -<p> -In this, however, the little scheme was -doomed to be disappointed by the -events of the following day. -</p> - -<p> -'I shall quit Dundargue for London, or -give up my leave and go back to the -regiment, and never look upon her fair, false -face again till I have schooled myself into -merely regarding her with a brotherly—well, -say cousinly—eye!' thought Allan, -with great bitterness of spirit. -</p> - -<p> -But how about that absurd will and the -settlement of the money? -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XI. -<br /><br /> -EVELINE'S SUITOR. -</h3> - -<p> -'Verily,' says a writer, 'we miss our -opportunities, and live our lives as if they -were all to come twice over; not as if each -passing sunset brought us nearer that -day when the pulse must cease to beat, -and the heart with all its emotions must be -stilled for ever.' -</p> - -<p> -Olive was now experiencing the truth of -this to a certain extent. -</p> - -<p> -She had been—in spite of herself—touched -by Allan's earnestness, and on -retiring to her room her first act was to -have his neglected gift—the little silver -idol—the bequest of the grateful subadar—duly -installed on a pretty Swiss bracket, -and next morning she determined to -discover why his manner, after their return -from Dunsinane, had been so marked and -disagreeable to her, even if she should -take the initiative, and have to recur to -the conversation which ended so abruptly -on the preceding evening. -</p> - -<p> -She entered the breakfast-room full of -the subject, and dressed—so far as lace -and blue ribbons went—in a most -attractive and coquettish morning costume; -but Allan was not there—he was at the -stables, no doubt, or at the kennel. How -tiresome men were, she thought. -</p> - -<p> -'Good morning, Olive darling! how -charming you look—I must positively give -you a kiss!' exclaimed the not usually -effusive Lady Aberfeldie, touching the -girl's cheek with her lips. -</p> - -<p> -The last to appear at the breakfast-table -was her husband, who entered with a note -in his hand, and an expression of surprise -on his face. -</p> - -<p> -'Here is a strange thing, Eveline,' said -he to Lady Aberfeldie. 'Tappleton has -just brought me this note from -Allan——' -</p> - -<p> -'From Allan!' exclaimed one or two -voices. -</p> - -<p> -'Stating that he would leave by dawn -this morning to take the train for the -south, and might be absent some time, -and this without further explanation.' -</p> - -<p> -'How odd—how unlike him!' exclaimed -Lady Aberfeldie. 'Do you know of any -business engagement or invitation he had?' -</p> - -<p> -'No—I know of nothing.' -</p> - -<p> -'Or you, Olive—or you, Mr. Cameron?' -</p> - -<p> -All professed ignorance, and the matter -was canvassed by the family circle in -vain. -</p> - -<p> -'It will be explained, of course. Allan -never acts without reason,' said his father, -addressing himself to the morning -meal. -</p> - -<p> -'Allan gone—how odd—how unaccountable!' -was the thought of Olive, whose -heart rather reproached her; and now, for -a little time, she missed the handsome -cousin whom she had so teased, worried, -and mortified; and she began to dread -that he had resigned his leave of -absence, and gone abruptly to rejoin his -regiment. -</p> - -<p> -'Olive,' said Lady Aberfeldie, 'do go on -with your breakfast.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, auntie, I have finished.' -</p> - -<p> -'Finished!—child, you have taken -nothing: Tappleton will get you a little -grouse-pie.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, no—thanks,' replied Olive, and, -rising from the table, she quitted the room. -The eyes of her aunt and Holcroft followed -her, as each had thoughts of their own. -</p> - -<p> -The love the latter professed for her was -destitute of jealousy, but was not without -fear; and his face just then would have -been a picture had anyone cared to study -it. -</p> - -<p> -There might have been read satisfaction -that by Allan's unexpected departure he -had the field all to himself; annoyance, for -the Dundargue despatch-box often brought -him, and on this morning had done so, -epistles in blue envelopes, which he cared -not to receive; greed, as he thought of the -prize that might yet be his; and hot -impatience to find it in his grasp; and thus, -while affecting to listen to Lord Aberfeldie, -who was describing to him and Sir Paget -a cover they were to shoot over that day, -his mind was revolving how he might -succeed in entrapping Olive Raymond into -some kind of Scotch marriage (whatever -that was) in fun, or jest, and then declare -it was a true and solemn ceremony. He -thought he had heard of such things being -tried and done, but was not quite certain. -</p> - -<p> -However, he took fresh courage now -that he would have her all to himself, and -thought, with Bulwer, that 'thrones and -bread man wins by the aid of others. -Fame and woman's heart he can only gain -through himself.' -</p> - -<p> -Not that he cared much for fame or -woman's heart either; but he could -mightily appreciate her fortune. -</p> - -<p> -Whatever was the secret thought of -Olive about the sudden and unexpected -departure of Allan, she felt some renewal -of her pique, but of a different kind, when -told by Eveline of the magnificent suite of -Maltese ornaments he had brought home. -</p> - -<p> -'For whom?' she asked. -</p> - -<p> -'You, of course.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then he has never offered them for my -acceptance.' -</p> - -<p> -'Think of your manner to him, Olive.' -</p> - -<p> -'They are for Ruby Logan more likely. -He has met Ruby before, we all know.' -</p> - -<p> -'I should not be surprised if they -become a gift to Ruby now,' replied Eveline, -who was quietly provoked by Olive's -treatment of her brother; 'though, when -he got these jewels at Malta, I question if -he knew of that yellow-haired damsel's -existence.' -</p> - -<p> -And now, greatly to the vexation of -Eveline, and the amusement perhaps of -Olive, the latter's bangle remained on the -wrist of the enterprising Mr. Holcroft, -though none of them knew the mischief -that the discovery of it had wrought in the -mind of Allan Graham; but in the latter's -absence poor little Eveline was doomed to -have—unsupported by his presence and -advice—some heavy trouble of her own. -</p> - -<p> -Lord and Lady Aberfeldie were in -consultation in the latter's boudoir, a little, -old-fashioned room of octagonal shape, the -panelled walls of which were hung with -rich silk—a sanctum long sacred to the -Chatelaines of Dundargue, and the whole -appurtenances of which had that combined -air of ease, repose, and grandeur peculiar -to the furniture of an ancient and -long-descended race. -</p> - -<p> -Kelpie—a currish-looking terrier, but -her ladyship's pet—had got his morning -repast of cream and macaroons from her -own white hands, and, this important duty -over, she and her husband began to -converse on family matters. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Aberfeldie amid these, indulged in -some angry surmises as to how long they -were 'to have the society of Mr. Holcroft.' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot say that I care much personally -for Hawke Holcroft,' replied her -husband; 'but his father, as you know, saved -my life at Alma, and won therefore the V.C. -I have told you, Eveline, I think, that when -Colin Campbell's Highland brigade -advanced in <i>echelon</i> of regiments along the -Kourgané Hill, the Black Watch, of course, -led the way, and, just about the time the -Russian Kazan column broke, no particular -sound had followed our firing but the yells -of their wounded ringing through the -smoke. With the next volley we heard a -rattling sound, as our bullets fell like hail -upon the tin-kettles they carried outside -their knapsacks, as all the great grey-coated -blocks of infantry were <i>right about face</i> now, -in full retreat. It was just then, as our -calvary and guns swept after them in -pursuit, that I fell wounded, and would have -been bayoneted on the spot by four Russians, -who lay among some caper bushes shamming -death, had not old Major Holcroft cut them -down like ninepins, and protected me till -some of our fellows returned. I cannot -forget all that, you know.' -</p> - -<p> -Lady Aberfeldie, who had heard all this -fifty times at least before, sighed with -impatience, and said, -</p> - -<p> -'His son certainly appears to have some -attraction for Olive; and what would you -think if Allan, repelled by her, was actually -to fall in love with Ruby Logan and her -amber locks? What a complication that -might be.' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't suggest such a thing for a moment. -I hope he will prove himself every -way worthy of one who has so long occupied, -like Eveline, the place of a daughter in our -hearts.' -</p> - -<p> -'Talking of Eveline, it is high time she -was informed of Sir Paget's views and -wishes; and while on the subject may I -ask,' she added, with some asperity of -tone, 'how long Mr. Cameron is to be -here?' -</p> - -<p> -'A week yet, and then he must report -himself at head-quarters.' -</p> - -<p> -'A whole week?' muttered lady Aberfeldie, -who was far from inhospitable when -she approved of the objects to whom she -thought hospitality should be extended. -</p> - -<p> -'I do like Stratherroch. He is like his -father, old Angus of the Cameron Highlanders, -yet not so lively; for Angus was the -king of good fellows, and used to keep the -mess-table in a roar.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yet I would his son were with the regiment -again, or anywhere else but here.' -</p> - -<p> -'I think he admires Eveline.' -</p> - -<p> -'I am certain of it, and the sooner their -intimacy terminates the better. Eveline -and Strath—good heavens!' exclaimed -Lady Aberfeldie, with her white jewelled -hands uplifted, 'never again must their -names be mingled, even in our family -circle, especially under pending circumstances.' -</p> - -<p> -'They do seem intimate,' said the peer, -moodily; 'but have not at least progressed -so far as the use of Christian names.' -</p> - -<p> -'That would be intolerable:' and, ringing -the bell, Lady Aberfeldie desired a servant -to summon her daughter, who appeared in -a very coquettish and becoming lawn-tennis -costume, for a game on the lawn, where -the courts were already set and some friends -awaited. -</p> - -<p> -She entered with a bright smile, which -soon died away, for she read an expression -in the faces of her parents, especially -that of her mother, which seemed to her -sensitive heart prophetic of evil. -</p> - -<p> -If it be true, as Madame be Stael asserts, -that 'love occupies the whole life of a -woman,' it need not be a matter of surprise -that the sex can discover each other's love -secrets with ease; thus, though Lady -Aberfeldie fully suspected what filled the -heart of her daughter—so closely had she -watched her—she was somewhat pitiless -now. -</p> - -<p> -With all her queenly manner and soft -grace, her unexceptional toilettes and -suavity of manner, Lady Aberfeldie had a will -of iron, yea, of adamant in some things, -and her daughter's marriage with Sir Paget -was one of them. -</p> - -<p> -She was told plainly and bluntly that he -had proposed for her hand; had asked -permission to address her on the subject; had -offered magnificent—yea, princely settlements; -and it was expected the marriage -would take place, when the family returned -to London, next season. -</p> - -<p> -The long dreaded cloud had burst upon -her at last! -</p> - -<p> -She grew white as a lily on hearing this -sentence, clung to a console table for -support, and then burst into a torrent of tears, -while her father drew her tenderly towards him. -</p> - -<p> -'Be calm, child,' said he, 'we shall give -you plenty of time to think about it; -marriage is a serious thing at all times.' -</p> - -<p> -Eveline thought it was doubly serious -with such a bridegroom, but could only sob, -while her mother eyed her gloomily, as -she thought this excessive grief and -repugnance augured worse for her scheme than -indignation or defiance would have done; -but poor Eveline was all softness and -gentleness. -</p> - -<p> -'What folly is this?' she asked. -</p> - -<p> -'I am your only daughter, mamma,' -urged Eveline. -</p> - -<p> -'Hence it is your first duty to your -family, to yourself, and the world to make -an early, eligible, and wealthy marriage. -Every season brings many such to pass in -our own circle.' -</p> - -<p> -'Are we so poor, mamma?' -</p> - -<p> -'We are not rich, and know not what -may happen.' -</p> - -<p> -Did Lady Aberfeldie speak prophetically? -If so, it was an utterance made -unawares. -</p> - -<p> -'Eveline darling,' said her father, 'you -were content enough with the attentions of -Sir Paget, and to accept even his presents -in London, a season or two ago.' -</p> - -<p> -'I was but a girl then fresh from school, -and—and joined other girls in laughing at -my having an old lover. I—I knew no -better,' she continued, sobbing. -</p> - -<p> -'And had not met Cameron of Stratherroch!' -said her mother through her set -teeth, and quite forgetting the <i>rôle</i> she had -so recently suggested. -</p> - -<p> -'No,' thought Eveline, 'and had not -learned to love him.' She shivered as if -she had been struck when her mother spoke, -and then said, with all the firmness she -could assume. -</p> - -<p> -'You must mistake us in some way, -mamma. Mr. Cameron has never addressed -a word to me that he might not have -addressed to yourself.' -</p> - -<p> -'I am glad of it—then I shall taunt you -with his name no more,' said her mother, -kissing her forehead. 'People generally, -but young ladies especially, should never -indulge in strong emotions.' -</p> - -<p> -'Perhaps, mamma; but why?' -</p> - -<p> -'They age the face so much by lining it.' -</p> - -<p> -Eveline covered with her handkerchief -her whole sweet face, which was quivering -with emotion now. She felt that the romance -of her young girl's life was quite passing -from her, and that, even if she escaped -a marriage with Sir Paget, she must think -of Evan Cameron and his silent love no -more! -</p> - -<p> -'Think of Sir Paget's princely settlements,' -said Lord Aberfeldie. 'But how -difficult it is,' he added, as if to himself, 'to -imbue a woman—a pretty girl more than -all—with any idea of the seriousness of -pounds, shillings, and pence! To her they -are as the sands upon the seashore, unless -she has known want.' -</p> - -<p> -'Do reflect on all this, Eveline,' urged -her mother. -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot; and why should I do so?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because most of the great evils of life -might be avoided if we would only take -time to reflect.' -</p> - -<p> -'In a matter like this, mamma,' said -Eveline, taking courage from her desperation, -and hoping by temporising to gain, -at least, time, 'reflection might lead to -madness. Can wealth or princely settlements -make up for that disparity of years -which will excite ridicule in all the girls -who know me, and cover me with contempt -as a mean, sordid, and covetous creature -in marrying a man I do not and can never -love, and who cannot really care for me, -whatever he may think or say? So, so, I -am to be taken to market, as it were, and -sold to the best advantage. That is the -plain English of it!' -</p> - -<p> -'Eveline, how can you adopt a tone so -little like you?' said her mother, reproachfully. -'Sir Paget will be sure to address -you on this subject, as he has your papa's -permission, and, when he does so, be sure -that you comport yourself as becomes my -daughter,' she added, rather haughtily, and -rather ignoring her husband in the matter. -'But go; I hear Olive and Miss Logan -calling for you.' -</p> - -<p> -Eveline hurried away, bathed her eyes, -and then, hat in hand, descended from the -terrace to the sunny lawn, where Olive, -Ruby, and other girls were flitting about, -radiant with smiles and in gaily-coloured -costumes, with saucy and bewitching hats, -talking and laughing merrily; but the girl -felt as one in a dream, a nightmare. A -dark cloud seemed to envelop her, amid -which she heard the voices of her friends, -and it may be imagined with what -emotions in her breast she saw in the -tennis-court opposite her, Cameron, looking so -handsome in a kind of athlete's flannel -dress, and the rotund figure of Sir Paget -in a tight morning coat, out of the neck of -which his round, shining head was jerked -ever and anon in the turtle fashion we -have described. -</p> - -<p> -Never while she lived, Eveline thought, -should she forget the horror she had of -that game of lawn-tennis; the part she had -to act in it under a glorious sunshine, and -the desire she had for the seclusion of her -own room, for by contrast with the chaos -in her own heart the whole bright scene -became a species of grim phantasmagoria. -</p> - -<p> -Her heart seemed full of tears; her -naturally buoyant and happy spirit was -crushed. She dared hardly trust herself -to address even Cameron, who saw, with a -lover's instinct, that something, he knew -not what (unless with reference to Sir -Paget), had gone decidedly wrong. -</p> - -<p> -We have already adverted to the strong -passion an elderly swain like Sir Paget -may conceive for a young girl; and, -encouraged by her parents' permission, he -was now giving full swing to it, as he -watched her slender, lithe, and willowy -figure in the various postures incident to -the game, which tested his powers of action -severely, and during a pause in it he -approached her with a smile rippling on his -rubicund old face, and displaying a set of -teeth that were first-rate as to cost and -quality. -</p> - -<p> -'My dear Miss Graham,' he said, with a -most insinuating jerk of his head, 'why do -you avoid me?' -</p> - -<p> -'I am not aware that I avoid you; I -hope I don't do so,' replied Eveline, -colouring with annoyance, and at the conviction -that she certainly had done so. Then, as -a kind of hunted feeling came over her, -she added; 'but I do not think, Sir Paget, -that I am bound to account to you for all -I do.' -</p> - -<p> -'Of course not,' said he, with a bow, and -Eveline coloured more deeply at the -ungraciousness of her own speech; 'of course -not, my dear young lady—<i>as yet</i>,' he added, -under his breath. -</p> - -<p> -At last she pleaded illness, fatigue, and -headache, threw down her hat, and fairly -fled to her own room. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XII. -<br /><br /> -A REVELATION TO HOLCROFT. -</h3> - -<p> -The sudden, unexpected, and unexplained -departure of Allan Graham from Dundargue -(a reason for which will be given in -due time), if it puzzled his family, still -more puzzled and piqued Olive, especially -after what passed between them on their -homeward ride. But then, says -Lefanu,—'Women are so enigmatical; some in -everything—all in matters of the heart.' -</p> - -<p> -The monetary matters of Mr. Hawke -Holcroft were approaching a species of -crisis now, and he was daily getting -orange-coloured missives and messages -'wired' in mysterious terms from jockeys, -bookmakers, and other horsey folks that -added to his tribulation, for things seemed -to be going wrong with him, and he felt -that now or never must he attempt to -secure the heiress, who, he thought, was -only waiting to be carried off. -</p> - -<p> -Even loo and écarté in the evening -with such pigeon-like players as Sir Paget -were beginning to fail as resources. -</p> - -<p> -'Odd fellow in his way,' remarked the -baronet to Cameron. 'A trifle too lucky -at cards for my taste.' -</p> - -<p> -'Or mine,' said Cameron, grimly. -</p> - -<p> -'Turns up the king too often after the -early hours of the morning.' -</p> - -<p> -Yet when night came again and the -small hours of the morning, the somewhat -simple M.P. for Slough-cum-Sloggit was -again a heavy loser to Holcroft. -</p> - -<p> -'He has some secret about him,' said -the former. -</p> - -<p> -'Most men have some secret which they -generally keep to themselves,' replied -Cameron. -</p> - -<p> -'Secrets certainly, which they seldom -tell to their wives or sweethearts,' said the -baronet, laughing. -</p> - -<p> -We have said that Olive had a secret -thought that might prove somewhat fatal -to Allan's success with her, a mistaken -idea that Holcroft loved her—loved her -for herself—and despite the tenor of her -father's will; while Allan might love her -because he knew the value of its tenor to -himself. -</p> - -<p> -And, now that the latter was so unaccountably -absent, Holcroft was full of confidence, -and, the ice having once been -broken, thought it would be easy to go -back to where he had left off on the ride -home from Dunsinane. -</p> - -<p> -In his own selfish way he loved her; -but then she was beautiful. Loved her! -'Oh, poverty of language, that we must so -often use the word love!' exclaims a writer. -</p> - -<p> -It was some days before his inevitable -departure from Dundargue (and not an -hour too soon for that), when he and -Olive were somewhat earlier, and before -anyone else, in the breakfast-room, and -the notes of Ronald Gair's pipes, playing -his morning reveille, 'The Black Watch,' -a slow and wailing air, were dying away -on the terrace outside. -</p> - -<p> -Holcroft's face looked worn and -haggard—more freckled, and the eyes more -than usually shifty in their expression. -He had received some letters and -telegrams the evening before that upset him -so much that he failed even to win at loo -or écarté, and the live-long night he had -been heard by Cameron pacing to and fro, -as if unable to rest. -</p> - -<p> -Olive was struck by his pallid appearance. -</p> - -<p> -They exchanged 'Good-mornings,' and -then a few minutes' silence ensued. -</p> - -<p> -'We may have rain soon.' was the not -very original remark of Holcroft. -</p> - -<p> -'The sky looks very like it. Rain -always comes when the mist is where we -see it now, on yonder low spur of the -Sidlaw Hills,' replied Olive. -</p> - -<p> -She was kneeling on a bearskin, beside -the great staghounds, Shiuloch and Bran, -with her little white hands outspread -before the fire for warmth; and a charming -picture she made, in her morning costume, -fresh and lovely as a fairy, with the -dogs in the foreground, and the great -carved stone arch of the baronial -chimney-piece for a frame. -</p> - -<p> -Hawke Holcroft turned from the window -and came to her side, though curiously -enough the hazel eyes of the hounds -glistened, and they showed their teeth at -him, suggestive of kicks secretly administered. -</p> - -<p> -'We are down earlier than usual this -morning,' said she. -</p> - -<p> -'All the better.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'I want so particularly to talk to you,' -said he, with all the softness he could -assume. -</p> - -<p> -'And I with you,' said Olive, with a -frankness that was a curious mistake. 'You -leave us soon, I believe?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'For London?' -</p> - -<p> -'For London,' he replied, mechanically, -as it were. -</p> - -<p> -'I thought you came to stay out the -grouse-shooting?' -</p> - -<p> -'Till the tenth of December! I have -not been asked,' he replied, gnawing his -yellow moustache; and then, after a pause, -added, 'would <i>you</i> wish that I stayed?' -</p> - -<p> -'Certainly, if you are enjoying yourself,' -was the girl's frank but—after what he -had urged some time ago—rather rash -response. -</p> - -<p> -His eyes sparkled—he drew nearer. -</p> - -<p> -'Miss Raymond—Olive!' he exclaimed, -but paused, as, at that moment, Lady Aberfeldie -swept into the room; 'on the terrace—the -terrace after breakfast,' he whispered, -hurriedly, and then turned to receive his -hostess's morning greeting, which was so -frigid that he feared she had overheard -him call her niece by her Christian name. -</p> - -<p> -Holcroft was rather abstracted at -breakfast; thus Ruby Logan, who had been -watching him, said, -</p> - -<p> -'I would not, if I were you, put more -sugar on the devilled turkey; it won't -improve it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Forgot it was not salt; thanks, Miss -Logan,' stammered Holcroft. -</p> - -<p> -Now, whether the charming Olive was -inspired by coquetry, curiosity, caprice, or -a strange desire to play with fire, we know -not; but when breakfast was over she laid -down a novel she had been reading, or -affecting to read, at intervals during the -meal, and, assuming her garden hat, with -all the laces and ribbons of her bright -morning dress fluttering about her, while -everyone else at table was deep in his or -her letters and papers, went forth -upon—the terrace! -</p> - -<p> -Now Mr. Hawke Holcroft never read -novels or anything else unless for a -purpose. He glanced at the page which Olive -had left open (the work was 'Miss -Forrester') and the passage struck him as -most <i>apropos</i> to himself: -</p> - -<p> -'I never pretended to goodness. I have -certain views for myself. I never -pretended to fooling. I am clever. What -stands between me and my ambition I will -remove; of whatever can administer to it -I will avail myself. Beyond this, it seems -to me, I am as good as other people.' -</p> - -<p> -'Hawke, my boy, yourself to a hair!' -thought he, as he quietly sought the terrace, -not by the French window, as Olive had -done, but by going through a corridor and -the entrance hall. -</p> - -<p> -As coolly as if she had no prevision of -what he was sure to urge, Olive, who wore -a waggish yet shy expression under her -garden hat, and who kept her hands deep -in the pockets of her morning dress, said, -</p> - -<p> -'What have you to say to me here that -you could not have said in the vicinity of -the tea-urn?' -</p> - -<p> -'All that I have to say may be said in -three words.' -</p> - -<p> -'Three! say it then.' -</p> - -<p> -'I love you; a confession that has -hovered on my timid lips many a time.' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot listen to this, and I wish to -have back my bangle. If Allan were to see -it—good heavens!' -</p> - -<p> -'I have said that it shall be buried with -me. Do give me some hope.' -</p> - -<p> -'Of what; permission to retain the -bangle?' -</p> - -<p> -'No; that you may one day love me.' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot.' -</p> - -<p> -'Say rather that you will not.' -</p> - -<p> -Barring, in an angle of the terrace, her -attempts to leave him, he continued, in an -earnestness that was born of monetary -pressure and desperate hope, to plead his passion. -</p> - -<p> -'I am greatly honoured,' replied the girl, -growing cold as he waxed warm, and -glancing nervously at the windows of the -mansion; 'but I am very sorry——' -</p> - -<p> -'That you don't love me.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'But you may in time. Oh, how I could -teach you to do so! Let me wait and -strive, Olive. You deem me wild, -perhaps—horsey, and all that sort of thing; but -do you think a man never changes, never -grows better, under a woman's softening -influence? Are you entirely to let this -family compact, whatever it may be, -Olive—pardon me, Miss Raymond,' he added, as -he saw how her face clouded by the -reference to her position—'are you intending -to let it stand between you and all other -chances of marriage?' -</p> - -<p> -'You have no right to question me thus, -or to assume this interest in my affairs, -Mr. Holcroft.' -</p> - -<p> -'Pardon me, but I have a love for you -that will last while life does.' -</p> - -<p> -He did not add that it was the love -of—her money. -</p> - -<p> -'If there is only the Master, your cousin, -between us, that is no barrier, as I know -you don't love him.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then you know more of me than I do -of myself,' said Olive, provoked by his blunt -brusquerie of manner, and failing to be -flattered by his pertinacity just then. -</p> - -<p> -'Perhaps you deem me an heiress?' -said Olive, as a new light suddenly broke -upon her. -</p> - -<p> -'My dear Miss Raymond,' stammered -Holcroft, colouring with surprise at the -abruptness of her question. 'I never -thought upon the subject; I only knew -that—that—I am not just now a man of -fortune; my place in Essex——' he paused, -thinking the less he said about it the better. -'But who thinks of pelf when the heart is -full of passion!' he added, magnanimously. -'But tell me now,' said he, in his most suave -tone, 'do you care for anyone else more -than for me?' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't care for you at all—at least -in the way you mean,' she replied, defiantly. -</p> - -<p> -He ground his teeth, even while he -smiled, and thought, -</p> - -<p> -'I must have patience before I tempt -my fate again!' -</p> - -<p> -Hawke Holcroft had made it so much a -habit during his sojourn at Dundargue to be -in close attendance upon Olive—especially -when they were alone together—that his -lovemaking took her less by surprise. In -a spirit of pique she had permitted him to -dangle, and to play—if we may use the -term—at admiration for herself; but, now -that he had become serious a second time, -she became alarmed. -</p> - -<p> -The remark which had escaped her had -excited some surprise in the mind of -Holcroft, as it interested him deeply; thus he -said, in a low soft voice, -</p> - -<p> -'You referred to your not being an -heiress, Miss Raymond, as if <i>that</i> could -possibly make any difference with one who -loves you as—as——' -</p> - -<p> -'There, there, that will do!' interrupted -the impetuous Olive; 'I am <i>not</i> an heiress, -in one sense, but very much of a beggar, if -you knew all,' she added, in a voice that -faltered. -</p> - -<p> -He regarded her with some bewilderment, -as well he might, and said, -</p> - -<p> -'My dear Miss Raymond, what am I to -understand by this paradox?' -</p> - -<p> -'Understand that I must marry my -cousin Allan, or forfeit papa's fortune—it -goes to him if I refuse, or to charities.' -</p> - -<p> -Her distinctness and vehemence carried -conviction with her words. Holcroft was -confounded; but, being a practised -dissembler, he only smiled, and said, -</p> - -<p> -'A most remarkable arrangement, and a -tyrannical one for you. But suppose the -Master had died in his boyhood—or were -to die now?' -</p> - -<p> -'The will would be worthless in effect, -of course, I suppose,' replied Olive, whose -cheeks now burned scarlet, for—always a -creature of hot impulse—she now thought, -'<i>why</i> should I have permitted my self to speak -to <i>him</i>, one, almost a stranger, or to any -man, of papa's will? What must he think -of me! Oh, what will Aunt Aberfeldie say?' -</p> - -<p> -For half a minute Holcroft was silent. -He was thinking, 'this must be all bosh!—a -cock and a bull, or a madman's will; she -doesn't know what she is talking -about—no woman or girl ever knows business. -Well—I've a pull on her anyway; a viscount's -niece isn't in a fellow's power every -day, as she will find herself in mine.' -</p> - -<p> -What he referred to we shall show ere -long. -</p> - -<p> -While Olive was still crimson with -reflections on her own imprudence, Holcroft -took possession of her passive hands, and -said, in a partly assumed voice of agitation, -</p> - -<p> -'You told me, Miss Raymond—let me -say Olive—a minute or two ago that you -did not care for me. I shall not take that -as your final answer; and ere I leave -Dundargue, when I again venture to speak -to you on the subject nearest my heart, -your reply——' -</p> - -<p> -'Will too probably be the same,' replied -Olive, wrenching away her hands, as steps -were heard near, and she hastily re-entered -the house. -</p> - -<p> -The footsteps heard were those of Allan, -who came leisurely up the flight, a broad -and stately one, which led to the terrace. -He had, while proceeding down the avenue, -observed the pair together, and, as it -seemed to him, in rather too close proximity. -He also remarked Olive's abrupt departure, -at <i>his</i> approach as he supposed, and his -soul become ireful within him; but he felt -himself, as he gave a hand to Holcroft, -compelled to dissemble. -</p> - -<p> -So did the latter who met him smilingly. -</p> - -<p> -'Welcome home to Dundargue,' he -exclaimed; 'you have come back as -unexpectedly as you went; but whither?' -</p> - -<p> -'Only as far as Edinburgh.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah.' The reply seemed rather to relieve -Holcroft. Nothing was known about -him there, he thought. -</p> - -<p> -'A lady was on the terrace with you -just now?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—Miss Raymond.' -</p> - -<p> -'So I thought—sorry she did not stay.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why—particularly?' -</p> - -<p> -'I have some news that may interest her.' -</p> - -<p> -'About whom?' -</p> - -<p> -'Herself.' -</p> - -<p> -'Hope they are pleasant?' -</p> - -<p> -'That will depend upon how she may -view them,' said Allan, with a nod, as he -entered the house. -</p> - -<p> -'Now, what the deuce has he been up -to—this fellow, with his hair cut to the -military pattern—Newgate crop, I should -call it—he looks queer this morning,' -muttered Holcroft, as he selected a cigar from -his case, bit the end off with his sharp -white teeth, and proceeded to smoke it with -brief, angry, and unenjoyable puffs that -indicated a mind full of bitterness and ill -at ease. Olive's communication had been -a sudden revelation to him. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap13"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIII. -<br /><br /> -ALLAN PROVES MYSTERIOUS. -</h3> - -<p> -If Allan's sudden departure and unexplained -absence excited some curiosity in the -minds of his family, his return excited it -afresh when he declined to make any -explanation until he had held an interview -with his cousin, Olive Raymond, who, for -a time, secluded herself in her own room -on the usual feminine plea of having a -headache. -</p> - -<p> -Eveline, who had so longed for his -return, now with tears told him of her -father's frequently expressed wish—nay, -command, and Sir Paget's forthcoming -proposal; but, full of his own miseries, he -could only caress her and say, -</p> - -<p> -'God bless you, little one. I wish you -well over all this.' -</p> - -<p> -Sir Paget had left Dundargue pending -the final arrangements, as he thought; thus -the cloud and the dread were hanging over -her still. -</p> - -<p> -'Has Olive received back her gold -bangle—my gift—from Mr. Holcroft?' asked -Allan, with knitted brows. -</p> - -<p> -'I—I think not. How did you learn he -had it?' -</p> - -<p> -'Plainly enough—I saw it on his -wrist!' -</p> - -<p> -'Where he put it, in play—not she.' -</p> - -<p> -'I should hope not, by Jove!' -</p> - -<p> -'I know she has asked him for it repeatedly.' -</p> - -<p> -'Can't make the beggar out.' -</p> - -<p> -'I can—he thinks Olive an heiress. -</p> - -<p> -Allan's dark brow became more deeply -knitted. -</p> - -<p> -'She thinks that if she married you, -Allan dear,' said his sister, after a pause, -'she would be sacrificing her own pride and -liberty, and that you might marry her -though not caring for her——' -</p> - -<p> -'But for that wretched money?' said -Allan, with a kind of snort. 'Poor Olive—she -views the situation in this light! I -certainly shall not ask her to make any -sacrifices for me, and, so far as I am concerned, -she shall be free as a bird in the air.' -</p> - -<p> -His sister regarded him now with some -perplexity, not understanding what he -meant, but said, -</p> - -<p> -'You have just come in time for a little -carpet-dance we have arranged as a -farewell treat to Ruby Logan, Mr. Holcroft, -and—and Evan Cameron, who are about -to leave Dundargue.' -</p> - -<p> -Allan noted the inflection of her voice -as she uttered the name of his young brother -officer, and then hurried away, as their -mother entered the room, and with rather -a cloudy expression in her face, though he -hastened to kiss her. -</p> - -<p> -'You have been to Edinburgh, I have -heard,' she said. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'About what, Allan?' -</p> - -<p> -'That you will learn in time, mother. I -must speak with Olive first.' -</p> - -<p> -Lady Aberfeldie was full of irrepressible -curiosity, but Allan declined to gratify it -just then. -</p> - -<p> -'Have your recent movements any -reference to Olive?' -</p> - -<p> -'You will learn in time, mother.' -</p> - -<p> -Lady Aberfeldie's face shaded with -annoyance, for, only the day before, she and -the petulant young lady in question had -indulged in a tift between them. -</p> - -<p> -Perceiving a wistful look and fitful -manner about Olive, and that she was more -than usually restless and irritable, Lady -Aberfeldie had unwisely spoken to her on -the subject of Allan's regard for her. -</p> - -<p> -Olive had sat for a moment or two, with -her delicate hands tightly interlaced in her -lap, and then, turning defiantly to her -aunt, she said, -</p> - -<p> -'I will never marry Allan!' -</p> - -<p> -'You must marry Allan, my dear girl,' -replied Lady Aberfeldie, calmly and firmly. -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'You know your father's wish.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, the will, of course! So I am to be -treated like a child? Well, if so, I may -prove a wilful and dangerous one!' -</p> - -<p> -Her aunt's report of this conversation -made Lord Aberfeldie more than ever -anxious for the return of his son. -</p> - -<p> -'You are very mysterious, Allan. You -and Olive seem a pair of enigmas,' said -Lady Aberfeldie. 'But your father waits -you in the library, and perhaps you will -condescend to confide in him, if not in me. -I must own it will be a fatal thing for your -future happiness if Olive thinks you seek -her for gain; but for what does Mr. Holcroft -so evidently seek her?' -</p> - -<p> -Allan smiled disdainfully. -</p> - -<p> -'I have tried to think, mother dear, that -she is not affected by this person Holcroft, -but begin to own to myself that "the faith -that worketh miracles" is not in me.' -</p> - -<p> -When questioned by his father, Allan -made the same reticent reply, that he must -see Olive before making any explanations. -</p> - -<p> -'The time has come now, Allan,' said -Lord Aberfeldie, 'when you are bound in -honour to make your cousin an offer, for -in this peculiar entanglement—for such, -I grant you, it is—you and she do not stand -in the position of most engaged persons.' -</p> - -<p> -'But suppose I have no wish to marry——' -</p> - -<p> -'Absurd—outrageous!' -</p> - -<p> -'Or may not marry at all?' -</p> - -<p> -'By the refusal of Olive?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then her fortune, or most of it, becomes -yours, in terms of the will—' -</p> - -<p> -'Which has been a curse to us both. In -her mind, and in the eyes of all who may -come to hear of it, we must lie under the -degrading imputation of a mercenary -motive.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not if you act with tact and delicacy, -and surely your boy-and-girl attachment -must remain unchanged,' said Lord Aberfeldie, -in a voice that was soft, rather than -indignant, as his memory went back to the -day when Olive first came a little orphan -child to Dundargue—a tiny and graceful -creature, with tender, wondering, and -beseeching eyes—a child that climbed upon -his knee, clung to him with sympathetic -love, and played with his watch-chain or -the tassels of his sash, if he was in uniform. -'And so,' he added, after a pause, 'you must -propose to the dear girl as a mere matter of -form.' -</p> - -<p> -'I have already done so,' said Allan, -recalling, what he was not likely to forget, -all that had occurred during the homeward -ride from Dunsinane. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, sir?' asked his father. -</p> - -<p> -'I was laughed at—mocked, I may say.' -</p> - -<p> -'Impossible! The girl must have been -jesting with you.' -</p> - -<p> -'I do not think so,' said Allan, both sadly -and bitterly as he thought of the bangle -and many other circumstances, the inevitable -'trifles light as air.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, you are bound to renew your -proposal.' -</p> - -<p> -'I do not think so, nor shall I again, -unless some change comes over her.' -</p> - -<p> -'If I exert my authority as guardian -and trustee——' -</p> - -<p> -'She may run away. Olive is a proud -and restless girl with a defiant spirit, though -she has a very affectionate heart.' -</p> - -<p> -'But you cannot expect that she is to -propose to <i>you</i>.' -</p> - -<p> -'I do love her, father—love her dearly; -but fear that she views me too much as a -brother to love me otherwise.' -</p> - -<p> -'This is rank nonsense. Think of your -separations, and of your last—one well -nigh seven years—with the Black Watch.' -</p> - -<p> -'But might it not be the case that she -may have a <i>penchant</i> for some one else?' -</p> - -<p> -'For whom?' asked Lord Aberfeldie, -angrily. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, say for your friend Mr. Holcroft.' -</p> - -<p> -'Penniless Hawke Holcroft! absurd—the -man has seen but little of her.' -</p> - -<p> -'Quite enough in London and here to -learn to admire, if not to love her. I would, -however, rather see her laid in her grave -than married to Holcroft,' said Allan, in a -stern but broken voice, adding under -his breath, as he left his father's presence -and cut short an unpleasant interview, -'but, so far as I am concerned, she shall be -free to choose for herself—free as the wind.' -</p> - -<p> -'What the deuce can all this mean?' -exclaimed Lord Aberfeldie, in great -perplexity; 'was ever an unfortunate man -more troubled with two intractable girls, -than I am with Eveline and Olive!' -</p> - -<p> -It has been said that, 'if exceedingly few -men and women understand each other -when they are in their sober senses, how -must it fare when they are under the -blinding influence of love?' -</p> - -<p> -But Allan's course of action was decided -now. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap14"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIV. -<br /><br /> -OLIVE CHANGES HER MIND. -</h3> - -<p> -'You are pleased to see me again, Olive?' -</p> - -<p> -'Of course, Allan—why do you ask me?' -she exclaimed, putting both her hands into -his in welcome. -</p> - -<p> -He retained them with a tender pressure -for half a minute, looking the while wistfully -into her violet eyes, and then he let -them drop from his clasp. -</p> - -<p> -'You wish particularly to speak with me, -I understand?' said Olive, nervously thinking -it must refer to the <i>tête-à-tête</i> he had -overseen on the terrace. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—particularly, dear Olive.' -</p> - -<p> -When he saw her tender beauty, her -grace, and her witchery, and felt all the -subtle charm of her presence, his heart -was wrung by the thought that, by the -very act he had the power to do, and the -suggestions he was about to make to her, -he might place her at the entire disposal of -Hawke Holcroft, of whose real character he -now knew more than formerly. -</p> - -<p> -How variable had been the emotions she -had, ever since his return from India, -exhibited towards him! By turns she had -been changeable and indifferent apparently; -playful, petulant, and imperious; yet -always bewitching and sweet. -</p> - -<p> -Seeing the cloudy and sad expression -of his eye, Olive said, -</p> - -<p> -'You have not come to scold me for -anything, Allan. We are at least -friends.' -</p> - -<p> -'Would we were more,' said Allan, -remembering what his father had urged but a -few minutes before. -</p> - -<p> -'Surely to be cousins is a near enough -relationship.' -</p> - -<p> -'Olive,' said he, reproachfully, 'unless -you have formed a distinct attachment for -some one else, I must say I do not -understand you.' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't want you to understand me,' -she replied, with half-averted face. -</p> - -<p> -'Why are you so hard with me?' he -exclaimed, with a wistful, longing, and -miserable expression in his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -She made no reply, so he spoke again. -</p> - -<p> -'I have had a long consultation with our -family agent in Edinburgh.' -</p> - -<p> -'About what?' -</p> - -<p> -'Your affairs and mine, Olive.' -</p> - -<p> -'<i>My</i> affairs?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, and I have obtained the opinion of -ruby Logan's father, and of counsel of -much higher—yes, of the highest—repute -on the vexed subject of your father's -will—vexed at least between you and I, -Olive.' -</p> - -<p> -She gazed at him with something of -vacant surprise blended with inquiry in her -face. -</p> - -<p> -'What I am about to suggest may be -dangerous, as I do not know the terms on -which you permit yourself to be with -this—Mr. Holcroft—but I have had excellent -legal advice, and——' -</p> - -<p> -'Legal advice—oh, indeed!' she interrupted, -with a toss of her pretty head; 'that is -well, for the laws as made by you men rank -us women with children and lunatics. And -what says this advice?' -</p> - -<p> -'That you can be freed from the trammels -of your father's will—free, and the -inheritrix of your own great wealth.' -</p> - -<p> -She regarded him for a minute with -blank astonishment; then as bright joy -like sunshine spread over her sweet face -and sparkled in the depth of her eyes, she -exclaimed, in a low voice, -</p> - -<p> -'Free, do you say, free in my own actions, -and free to bestow papa's money how and -on whom I please?' -</p> - -<p> -'On <i>whom</i> you please,' replied Allan, -thinking with intense mortification on -Holcroft, and Holcroft only; for personally he -was far above thinking of the fortune that -might otherwise be his own, as the stars -are above the earth. 'Let me but see all -this matter fully arranged and then I shall -be content,' said he, after a pause, during -which they had been regarding each other; -he, her with sadness, and she him with -bewilderment. 'There are rumours in the -air of a turn-up with the Turks, and of a -war in Egypt, and right glad I am of that!' -</p> - -<p> -'Why, Allan?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because I'll get attached to the first -army corps that sails, even if the Black -Watch is not going; but that it is sure to -be, as, thank God! the dear old corps is -always in everything.' -</p> - -<p> -'And why this joy?' -</p> - -<p> -'To get as far away from you as possible,' -he replied, bluntly, in a hollow tone. -</p> - -<p> -'Must you do so, Allan?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, unless I mean to drive myself -mad.' -</p> - -<p> -'Do you really love me so much—and—and,' -she paused, for she seemed touched, -her sweet lips were quivering now. -</p> - -<p> -'What more?' -</p> - -<p> -'For myself alone,' she asked, softly. -</p> - -<p> -'Love you—oh, Olive.' -</p> - -<p> -'There now, don't!' she exclaimed, -turning away her face, and Allan shrank -back. -</p> - -<p> -'Playing with me, after all—after all!' -he muttered. 'Will you please to look at -the opinion of counsel,' he added, drawing -from his pocket a folio document, stitched -with a red thread, and with a broad margin. -</p> - -<p> -'What a long story!' she exclaimed, as -she glanced at and read, -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> -'Chambers, Edinburgh. -</p> - -<p> -'Copy of Counsel's opinion referred to in -letter of 20th October, 1882, on the will of -the late Oliver Raymond, Esq, of Jamaica, -with note of fees thereon.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -'What a fearful long story!' exclaimed -Olive again. 'Tell me all about it, Allan? but -pray don't read it.' -</p> - -<p> -'The will of your father is herein denounced -as eccentric—one that no court of -law would enforce, nor could uphold, as in -more than one instance it is not conceived in -strictly legal terms, and, to all intents and -purposes, can be put aside if you choose. -Thus, Olive, you are free—free from all -the bonds—if such ever existed—that -seemed to bind you to me; and I thank God that -it is so, and I shall go to Egypt, perhaps, -with a lighter heart. All that now remains -to be done is to take the means, if such -are necessary, to have the document set -aside as so much waste paper, and you duly -made mistress of your inheritance, as you -are now of age, in England, at least, where -it is invested. Thus, you see, Olive, this -opinion of counsel is most valuable to you.' -</p> - -<p> -Her soft eyes were brimming over with -tears now, as she mechanically took the -document in her tremulous fingers. -</p> - -<p> -'And thus you relinquish me?' she said. -</p> - -<p> -'I relinquish, gladly, your fortune, and -all control over your actions, if—you -choose.' -</p> - -<p> -'But I don't choose! Oh, Allan, how -generous all this is of you. But I shall not -be less so, nor will I act upon this opinion -of counsel.' -</p> - -<p> -'How?' -</p> - -<p> -'See, thus!' -</p> - -<p> -And, tearing it into pieces, she cast them -into the fire-grate. -</p> - -<p> -'Illegal as it may be, papa's will must be -now a law to me more than ever.' -</p> - -<p> -'And you, Olive?' -</p> - -<p> -'Love you, dear Allan, and love you dearly,' -cried the wilful and impulsive girl, as -all her heart went forth to him, and he -pressed her to his breast at last. -</p> - -<p> -Doubt, pride, defiance, and petulance -had all passed away, and Olive was all -softness, love, and joy now; and to the pair -time seemed for a term to stand still, and -save their caressing words softly murmured, -and the twitter of birds among the ivy -without, silence appeared to reign in this -room; and nothing seemed to disturb them, -till Olive suddenly started from Allan's -arms. -</p> - -<p> -'What is it, love?' he asked. -</p> - -<p> -'A face at the window!' -</p> - -<p> -'Whose face?' -</p> - -<p> -'I know not,' she replied, with some -agitation. 'It has just vanished.' -</p> - -<p> -She thought, nay, she was sure, it had -the features of Hawke Holcroft, but she -did not <i>say</i> so. If it were he, how much -had he overheard, how much overseen! -</p> - -<p> -But she soon forgot the episode, and that -night at dinner she looked more radiant -than ever, in her suite of Maltese -jewellery—gold set with orient pearls. -</p> - -<p> -'It is usual for engaged ladies to have a -ring,' Allan had whispered, as he slipped a -magnificently jewelled hoop upon her -mystic finger. -</p> - -<p> -'Fool that I have been!' thought the -girl. 'How near was I estranging one of -the best and dearest of men in the world, -not for the sake of one immeasurably his -inferior, even worthless perhaps, but in a -spirit of vanity, pique, and suspicion!' -</p> - -<p> -'Allan,' she whispered to him softly, -when an opportunity came, 'I see now how -foolish I have been and wilful—oh, so -wilful! But we all make mistakes in life, and -require at times each other's pity and -forgiveness.' -</p> - -<p> -How sweetly and shyly she looked and -spoke. -</p> - -<p> -Hawke Holcroft felt intuitively, and -indeed saw, that there was some sudden -change in the bearing of the pair to each -other, and that a sudden brightness had -come into the faces of all—even that of -Eveline, usually now so <i>triste</i> and pale—and -under his sandy moustache he 'wondered -what the devil it all meant,' till his watchful -eyes detected the new and brilliant ring -on the engaged finger of Olive Raymond! -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -If Mr. Hawke Holcroft imagined he had -nothing to dread personally from the -Master's sudden visit to Edinburgh he reckoned -without his host, as he would have found -had he overheard a brief conversation -which took place between Allan and his -comrade, young Cameron, as they loitered -in the gun-room looking over old Joe-Mantons, -new rifles, and central-fire breech-loaders, &c. -</p> - -<p> -He was not slow to perceive very soon -that Allan, usually so suave and pleasant -in manner, treated him now with a kind of -stiffness that was almost hauteur; but he -dissembled his rage and so did Allan, who -had a keen sense of the laws of hospitality, -with the genuine British dread of aught -that might approach a 'scene,' more than -all as the visit of Holcroft was nearly -ended. -</p> - -<p> -Poor wretch! he strove well to keep a -brave front in society, while letters that -often lay beside his plate at breakfast were -seen to cloud his brow with perplexity, for -they alluded to wrong horses backed, -I.O.U.'s, bills, and cheques 'referred to -drawer,' and so forth, and he must have -left Dundargue before this, but for a friendly -slip of paper, which he had received from -Lord Aberfeldie, that 'Fool of Quality,' as -he thought him. -</p> - -<p> -'Look here, Cameron,' said Allan, as the -twain smoked their cigars in a quiet place. -'It is little wonder to me that you, Sir -Paget Puddicombe, and one or two others -lost at cards with Holcroft as you did. I -dined with our fellows at the mess in the -Castle when I went to Edinburgh. There -his name cropped up by the merest chance, -and I was told by Carslogie of Ours that -he was present at a shindy in London, -where this fellow Holcroft, after having an -unprecedented run at cards at a place in -St. James Street, was accused of having the -ace of trumps up his sleeve, from whence -it fell when he was shying a bottle at the -accuser's head. He talks to the pater -largely of his "place in Essex," or what -remains of it. Involved in debt to a ruinous -extent, he gave bills right and left, which -were dishonoured. £10,000 <i>had</i> been -raised upon his estate, in which he had only a -reversionary interest, and, when the mortgagees -called in their money, and the estate -was sold, it did not suffice to pay a tithe of -the sums he had raised in every conceivable -way, and everyone lost their money all -round. Sharp that! Yet he scraped -through without punishment.' -</p> - -<p> -'By Jove!' -</p> - -<p> -'Worse still. Carslogie told me he was -suspected of causing a horse to fail in a race -through having the bit poisoned; and how -he left a young fellow in the Hussars at -Maidstone in the lurch, by refusing at the -last moment to ride for him a peculiarly -vicious horse, which he had solemnly undertaken -to do, and so causing him to lose the -race, on which he had most imprudently -made a ruinously heavy book.' -</p> - -<p> -'And how did it end?' -</p> - -<p> -'The report of a pistol that night in the -cavalry barrack announced that the Hussar -had shot himself—that is all! And this -is the "young man of the period" whom -my father's confiding simplicity has made -a welcome guest for some weeks back at -Dundargue, and thrown into the society of -my sister and Olive! But I shall fully open -his eyes the moment our visitor is gone.' -</p> - -<p> -But it was rather a pity for his own sake -that Allan did not 'open' Lord Aberfeldie's -eyes a little before that event, and such -being the character of Mr. Hawke Holcroft the -reader may feel less surprised at some of -the things we may have to record of him -ere long. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap15"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XV. -<br /><br /> -THE CARPET-DANCE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. -</h3> - -<p> -Though somewhat of the nature of an -impromptu affair, the 'carpet-dance' partook -of something of a more important kind. -Many guests were invited; the ladies were -in semi-toilet and the gentlemen in evening -dress: but the great dancing-room at -Dundargue was decorated to perfection by the -care of Mr. Tappleton, the butler, the -housekeeper, and gardener, with the rarest -plants, flowers, and ferns the conservatories -could produce, disposed in China and Japanese -jars on pedestals and marble console -tables of the time of Louis XIV., at whose -court a Lord Aberfeldie had once been -ambassador. -</p> - -<p> -The fete had been brought about by the -two fair cousins as a farewell treat to the -last of their present guests, who were -departing—Ruby Logan, Stratherroch, -and—Mr. Holcroft! -</p> - -<p> -Greatly to Eveline's relief, Sir Paget was -gone, but, as if to worry her further, Sir -Paget left for her—with Lady Aberfeldie—a -letter referring to his admiration and -regard for her since the last season in -London, and with it a handsome diamond -necklet—the sight of which in its fragrant -Russian-leather case she loathed—with -the hope that she would accept and wear -it, in token that she was holding out -brilliant hopes to him when 'they met in town -again.' -</p> - -<p> -Eveline flatly declined to accept and wear -the jewellery, so, to her intense annoyance, -it remained as yet in her mother's hands. -She was 'biding her time.' -</p> - -<p> -The wealthy suitor had attained a -battered middle-age, while Eveline was still in -the glory of her youth. True, but he had -both wealth and rank to offer, for though -she was an 'Honourable Miss,' he was a -baronet, and so far as his love went, if it -came late in life, it was, nevertheless, a -kind of overmastering passion. -</p> - -<p> -The new emotions of her heart caused -Eveline to reflect more than perhaps she -had ever done before. It seemed but -yesterday since she and Olive conned their -tasks and practised their scales together -under the eyes of a governess; since they -had gathered bouquets of wild flowers from -the clefts of the rocks of Dundargue, and -made fairy caps of rushes and harebells by -the burnside; happy children both; but -how miserable she was now that she was on -the verge of womanhood, and had learned -to love and to hate; for she loved Evan -Cameron, and hated—yes, and she blushed -as she admitted it to herself—she did hate -that smiling and rubicund old interloper, -Sir Paget. -</p> - -<p> -'And you will not wear the necklet?' -said Lady Aberfeldie, for the last time. -</p> - -<p> -'Do please to excuse me, dearest mamma—I -cannot—yet a while.' -</p> - -<p> -Lady Aberfeldie was pleased by the half -obedience these words implied. -</p> - -<p> -'What ornaments will you wear then?' -she asked. 'You have so many to choose -from.' -</p> - -<p> -'Let me wear the lovely diamond necklace -that lies in the strong casket in your -room, mamma.' -</p> - -<p> -Lady Aberfeldie's calm, patrician face -darkened. -</p> - -<p> -'I would rather you wore no diamonds -at all, child; and these I never wear myself.' -</p> - -<p> -'But why, mamma?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because that necklace always brings -evil to whoever wears it.' -</p> - -<p> -'So I have heard. But it is a silly -superstition, and they are such lovely -stones! But what is the story of them?' -</p> - -<p> -'The wife of a cavalier who died with -Montrose on the scaffold of Edinburgh -gave them to an ancestor of ours to save -his life. This was the first viscount, who -was a zealous Covenanter, and the bosom -friend of Lord Warriston. He certainly -took the jewels from the poor sorrowing -wife——' -</p> - -<p> -'And the cavalier?' -</p> - -<p> -'Was beheaded by the Maiden at the -market-cross, and a kind of curse seems to -have attended these diamonds ever since.' -</p> - -<p> -'A cruel story.' -</p> - -<p> -'But a true one.' -</p> - -<p> -Eveline laughed at the superstition, kissed -her cold, proud mother, and carried her -point; thus, at the time when carriage after -carriage was depositing guests at the great -arched entrance hall, Eveline was surveying -her figure and face in the mirror with -all a young girl's satisfaction and thinking -that her slender white throat never looked -as it did then, when encircled by the -sparkling diamonds of the luckless widow, -and Olive at the same time was looking -radiant in the Maltese suite of Allan. -</p> - -<p> -How the two last named enjoy the -carpet-dance! Perfect confidence was so -sweetly established between them, they had -so many little secrets to tell, so many -revelations to make, so many comparisons, -of mutual hopes and fears, and so forth, -while each seemed to exult in the affection -of the other, and felt in their hearts the -words ascribed to old Catullus:— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Let those love now who never loved before.<br /> - Let those who always loved, now love the more!'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -'Those two young fools seem to -understand each other and each other's interests -at last!' whispered Lord to Lady Aberfeldie, -with a smile of amusement. -</p> - -<p> -'But there are two <i>other</i> young fools -present who are doing their best to mar -each other's interests,' was her cold and -warning response. -</p> - -<p> -Hawke Holcroft's shifty eyes lowered as -he watched the cousins and whirled in a -waltz with Ruby Logan or any other girl -who came to hand. He was in utter -perplexity to find the new footing on which -these hitherto strange lovers so suddenly -were, and that he himself was, as he felt -and thought, 'nowhere!' -</p> - -<p> -What could she mean? There was something -of radiance in the faces of all the -family—even of the sweetly pensive -Eveline—all indicative of a new movement that -<i>he</i> was out of. -</p> - -<p> -'As for Olive,' he muttered, while a -sentiment of rage, mingled with avarice and -jealousy, grew strong in his heart, 'she is -an infernal weather-cock, but a deuced -handsome one!' -</p> - -<p> -Ruby Logan was equally puzzled, but -found consolation with young Carslogie of -the Black Watch, whom Allan had invited -to the festivity, and who styled her, with -reference to her hair, 'the amber witch.' -</p> - -<p> -'Happy Olive and Allan,' thought Eveline, -as she rested for a minute on the arm -of Cameron, 'they may have as many round -dances as they choose without remark, -while mine, with <i>him</i>, must be few and far -between.' -</p> - -<p> -Her dress was white silk, trimmed with -little laurel leaves and crowberry—the latter -a delicate attention to Evan, as it is the -badge of the Camerons. -</p> - -<p> -'Will you wear my colours to-night?' -she asked, as they promenaded at that end -of the room which was furthest away from -'papa and mamma.' She broke off a spray -and made him a button-hole. 'Allow me -to fix it for you,' said Eveline, and deftly -she put it in his lapel, while Evan's heart -thrilled to feel the touch of her beloved -hand—even though gloved—so near his heart, as -they swept into another waltz. -</p> - -<p> -'Aberfeldie,' said the hostess to her -husband, 'I feel certain that Evan Cameron -is in love with our Eveline.' -</p> - -<p> -Lord Aberfeldie had no doubt about it -whatever now, but he only said, -</p> - -<p> -'He would be a fool to be otherwise.' -</p> - -<p> -'But that is not what we seek!' -</p> - -<p> -'Certainly not; but all young fellows -have fancies; and he will be gone from -this in a few hours now.' -</p> - -<p> -'Thank Heaven, yes!' responded Lady -Aberfeldie, devoutly. -</p> - -<p> -'By the way, why did you permit her to -wear those unlucky diamonds?' -</p> - -<p> -'She pled so hard, and then the idea of -their bringing evil is so behind the age.' -</p> - -<p> -'Behind the age or not, something -untoward or unlucky always accompanies their -appearance in public. They should have -been sent to Bond Street long ago.' -</p> - -<p> -And Lord Aberfeldie smiled on her -affectionately, as at that moment he could not -help thinking how handsome and young -his wife looked in her costume of rich ruby -velvet, trimmed at the square cut neck and -arms with the finest white old lace, while -jewels that an empress might have worn -glittered in her ears and hair. -</p> - -<p> -Replacing sometimes the professional -musicians, making themselves useful at the -piano, and playing certainly good dance -music were two—the 'mermaids,' as Holcroft -called them—the minister's daughters, -who were usually so fond of warbling that -they 'were under the blue sea.' -</p> - -<p> -He knew nothing of what Allan had -learned concerning him—of the light -Carslogie had thrown on his private life; thus, -whatever change had come over the spirit -of Olive's dream, he deemed it necessary to -ask her for, at least, one round dance as -usual; and Allan watched them with a -haughty grimace on his features as they -danced it in a silent manner that was peculiar -and rather oppressive to both. The -moment it was over, and he handed her back to -a seat, Holcroft took refuge in the -refreshment-room, where Mr. Tappleton gave -him a foaming glass of sparkling champagne. -</p> - -<p> -Young Cameron was rather grave, Allan -thought, but the former was oppressed by -one idea then, that on the morrow he would -have to report himself at the headquarters -of the Black Watch, and he gazed like one -in a dream at the dancers whirling round -him; so Allan took him to task and strove -to rally him. -</p> - -<p> -'Why so sad, old fellow? You're down -on your luck, somehow,' said he. -</p> - -<p> -'Because, Graham,' replied Cameron, -with a forced smile, 'there are times when -I am inclined to ask with Mr. Mallock, "Is -life worth living?"' -</p> - -<p> -'Of course it is—but how with you?' -</p> - -<p> -'Well,' replied Cameron, with whom just -then one bitter thought was more than -usually keen, 'dipped nigh to sinking as -my place of Stratherroch is, I don't see so -much to live for, and certainly deuced little -to live upon.' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't take this gloomy view, old fellow,' -said Allan, cheerfully. -</p> - -<p> -'It is very well for you to take a -jolly view of the world, Allan—you, the son -of a peer, and engaged to——' -</p> - -<p> -'Take heart, man; we've lots of life -before us—life in Egypt perhaps. There is -Eveline sitting alone; take another turn -with her, and then we'll have some of -Mumms' extra dry together.' -</p> - -<p> -Eveline had opened an album as Cameron -drew near her, but closed it instantly as -the first photo that met her eyes was a -fine cabinet one of Sir Paget. There was -an expression of pensive sweetness in her -otherwise radiant face, for she, poor girl, -never for a moment forgot that a parting—too -probably a final one it might prove—was -close at hand now, and, after the two -past delightful months, how dreary would -the future seem! -</p> - -<p> -'Are you tired?' said a tender voice in -her ear; 'it is our dance, I think—but -would you rather sit it out?' -</p> - -<p> -'A little promenade rather.' -</p> - -<p> -He bowed, and, rising, she took his -proffered arm. They made a circuit of the -room once or twice, and then, lured no -doubt by the coolness and seclusion of a -long corridor, entered it, unnoticed as they -thought; but the watchful gaze of Lady -Aberfeldie had followed them. -</p> - -<p> -There was much to see in this long, -stately, and vaulted corridor, and its deeply -embayed windows overlooking the rock on -which the oldest part of Dundargue is -perched. Its floor was of <i>parqueterie</i>; its -walls of wainscot, with massively framed -old pictures; some trophies of arms and -family armour hung there, and the -windows were furnished with ancient stone -seats and modern stained glass, through -which the radiance of the setting sun -was contending with the dim shaded -lamps. -</p> - -<p> -Specimens of unique china and frail -goblets of Venetian glass, with other objects -of 'bigotry and virtue,' as Holcroft had -called them, were there in oaken cabinets -and on exquisite brackets. Among other -things, on a pedestal, skilfully stuffed, the -last golden eagle that had been shot at the -Birks of Aberfeldie, by the gun of Dugald -Glas, a glorious bird that measured five -feet from tip to tip of his shining pinions; -yet none of these things caught the -attention of the two promenaders. -</p> - -<p> -Her hand was on his arm; involuntarily -that arm pressed the soft and tremulous -fingers which rested there, and in another -moment his hand stole over them without -their being withdrawn—nay, it seemed as -if their load became more heavy. -</p> - -<p> -Eveline was not unaware that there -was something morally wrong in the -situation; but, then, 'the situation had its -charm.' -</p> - -<p> -'Eveline!' -</p> - -<p> -Cameron had never before ventured to -call her by her Christian name, nor, until -it passed his lips half unconsciously now, -had he an intention of so uttering it; but -that utterance seemed scarcely a new -revelation to the girl. -</p> - -<p> -Soft and lovely was the shy smile upon -her upturned face as they stood within the -deep bay of a window. Was it that smile, -or what, that dazed Evan Cameron and -swept his senses away; but he caught her -suddenly in his arms and kissed her lips -and eyes, whispering, -</p> - -<p> -'Oh! Eveline, my darling—my darling!' -</p> - -<p> -And then there was a pause, full of -sighs of happiness. 'The stone was cast -into the water, and the still lake broke up -into a stormy sea, where there would be -peace and quiet no more!' No more, at -least, unless the future held some -happiness for these two poor loving hearts. -</p> - -<p> -'Have I done wrong?' said Cameron, in -a breathless voice, after a little time; 'God -knows I never meant that you should see -how dearly, how desperately, and how -hopelessly I love you when I let the precious -secret escape me as I did; but it is done -now.' -</p> - -<p> -She was pale as death and trembling -violently, as she thought of her mother; -yet she nestled closely and clingingly to -him. -</p> - -<p> -'You love me, Eveline?' -</p> - -<p> -'Can you ask?' she whispered. 'Yes—oh, -yes—Evan.' -</p> - -<p> -He was intoxicated, and drew her close -to him again. Such a moment comes but -once in life—once only! -</p> - -<p> -'Let us go now—we shall be missed,' -said Eveline. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, stay one moment longer, darling.' -</p> - -<p> -'Mamma, if we could only get her to -be our friend, all might be right and go -well.' -</p> - -<p> -'Even with my poverty, Eveline?' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't call it so. Yes, papa always -gives in to her in the long run.' -</p> - -<p> -Cameron sighed. -</p> - -<p> -'Are you two practising for amateur -theatricals, or admiring the stars through -the stained glass?' said the voice of Lord -Aberfeldie, suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -We have said that the eyes of his wife -had followed the pair, and hence no doubt -his lordship's sudden appearance in the -dimly-lighted corridor. Both were -painfully confused. -</p> - -<p> -How much had Lord Aberfeldie overseen, -how much had he overheard, or how -little of both? It was impossible for -them to guess, but he good-naturedly -affected not to see all that his mind -took in. -</p> - -<p> -Cameron felt that he had nothing to -explain, to urge, or to utter, but bowed, -smiled a very hollow smile indeed, and led -his partner back to the dancing-room, -where neither waltzed more that evening, -as the impromptu affair was over, the -guests were departing, and Lord -Aberfeldie was beginning to think that the -diamonds of the legend were already -producing their evil results in this the first -untoward event in the young life of his -daughter. -</p> - -<p> -Allan and Cameron, avoiding Holcroft, -sat long that night in the former's room -smoking and imbibing brandy-and-soda, -but no word escaped the lover of what -had passed in the corridor; and, sooth to -say, full of Olive and himself, Allan had -never missed the pair from the dancing-room. -</p> - -<p> -Cameron was to leave Dundargue -betimes next morning, so he bade farewell -to his comrade, who charged him with -remembrances to 'all our fellows of the -Black Watch;' and anon Cameron found -himself alone with his own loving, exulting, -sad, and anxious thoughts, and with -the little bouquet—a dwarf laurel leaf and -sprig of crowberry—dearer to him then -than even his Victoria Cross! -</p> - -<p> -Again and again did he rehearse that -sweet episode in the dimly-lit corridor, and -again and again in the time to come would -it return with sorrowful reiteration to his -heart and memory! -</p> - -<p> -Eveline loved him! Her own lips had -acknowledged it, her kisses seemed still to -linger on his lips; but to what end—my -God! he exclaimed, in bitterness of heart, -to what end? Again and again he thought -over her plaintive and child-like wish, 'if -we could only get mamma to be our -friend,' and all that wish suggested. Her -mother suspected much, he feared, and -that her father knew all. Sir Paget, with -his colossal wealth, was looming in the -distance like a simoon to the newly -dawned love; and poor Evan could but -come to the terrible conclusion that, like -too many others, his penniless love could -only be a hopeless one. -</p> - -<p> -So wore the night away—the last, -Cameron was assured, he would ever -spend in Dundargue; and morning came. -</p> - -<p> -Unslept, Cameron made rapidly the -prosaic preparations for his departure, and -a valet had borne off his portmanteaus, rugs, -and gun-case to the entrance hall, where -the sleepy Mr. Tappleton and a wagonette -awaited him. -</p> - -<p> -As he was about to descend the great, -silent staircase, suddenly Eveline, fully -dressed for the day and softly slippered, -stood before him, her mignonne face very -pale, and her soft hazel eyes inflamed by -past weeping. -</p> - -<p> -'Evan!' -</p> - -<p> -'My darling!' -</p> - -<p> -No housemaids were about as yet, -and no prying eyes were there, nor had -Ronald Gair with his pipes blown <i>reveille</i>. -</p> - -<p> -'I could not let you go without—without -one word of farewell,' she sobbed. -</p> - -<p> -Long and mute was their embrace, and -the heart of Cameron swelled as if to -bursting with mingled love and gratitude. He -pressed her to it. It was their parting -embrace, and both seemed to feel in it -that which a writer has described as 'the -vibration of an agony.' -</p> - -<p> -'I feel as if I were bereft of reason!' he -whispered. -</p> - -<p> -'My poor Evan—my own dear love!' -cooed the girl. One kiss more, and he was -gone. -</p> - -<p> -When or where, if ever, would they meet -again? -</p> - -<p> -Eveline had nervously and sedulously -avoided Sir Paget till the time of his -departure; and, when he did leave Dundargue -in the dawn, he was only seen off by the -old butler; but Evan Cameron had an -unexpected farewell caress, the memory of a -sad, soft, and clinging kiss that he was to -take away with him to what he deemed the -land of bondage, and tearful eyes watched -his wagonette as it passed down the -avenue and out upon the high-road that led -to the railway. -</p> - -<p> -Evan looked backwards at the tall and -stately pile of Dundargue, on which the -rays of the rising sun shone redly, and -deep in his heart he envied Carslogie, who -was to remain behind for a couple of days' -shooting. Yet wherefore should he envy -any man while Eveline loved him? was his -afterthought. -</p> - -<p> -And she, poor girl, seemed to feel herself -left most terribly alone with all her -sorrow—alone amid her loving family and -splendid surroundings, and with Evan's -words of love lingering in her ear she was -soon bidden to school herself to think of -Sir Paget, and Sir Paget Puddicombe only! -'The human creature,' it has been written, -'who would have suited us to every fibre of -our being we have not found, or, having -found, have not possessed; but (perhaps) -undervalued, and so allowed to pass out -of our lives.' -</p> - -<p> -These two suited each other 'to a fibre,' -as our author quaintly puts it, and in -perfect unanimity of sentiment; and yet for all -that they may be compelled to pass out of -each other's lives, and live those lives far, -far apart. -</p> - -<p> -Under her mother's scrutiny Eveline -strove hard to dissemble, and on receiving -her morning kiss said, -</p> - -<p> -'Well, mamma, no evil has come of the -wearing the diamonds—Dundargue has -not taken fire.' -</p> - -<p> -'No, child—indeed, good has come!' -</p> - -<p> -'How, mamma?' -</p> - -<p> -'This morning's mail has brought an -enclosure for you—the formal proposal of -Sir Paget.' -</p> - -<p> -Eveline was stricken dumb, but thought -to herself, -</p> - -<p> -'Unhappy I—evil <i>has</i> come!' -</p> - -<p> -And ere noon was passed she was taken -to task by her father in the library, -prompted by her mother, no doubt. -</p> - -<p> -He drew her to him caressingly, and, -interlacing his fingers upon her head, drew -her soft cheek upon his breast. -</p> - -<p> -'I think, Eveline,' said he, 'you may -know by this time how well I love -you.' -</p> - -<p> -'I do, indeed, papa,' replied Eveline, -in a low voice, but feeling her heart -sink under this unusual prelude -nevertheless. -</p> - -<p> -'And yet you have been deluding me.' -</p> - -<p> -'Deluding you—I, papa?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, how?' -</p> - -<p> -'By encouraging—pardon me, not that—rather -by permitting a visitor to encourage -certain hopes. That, you know, it is -impossible I should view with favour.' -</p> - -<p> -'You mean—you mean——' stammered -Eveline, recalling the episode in the -corridor. -</p> - -<p> -'Evan Cameron.' -</p> - -<p> -'He is gone,' said she, with difficulty -restraining her tears. -</p> - -<p> -'To darken the door of Dundargue no -more! Not that I have any fault to find -with poor Cameron—a brave fellow who -has won his V.C., and is a Black Watchman -to boot; but he is Laird of Stratherroch -only in name; his purse does not -come up to the requisite standard, and -may never do so till both your heads are -grey; but he is gone, as you say, and we -shall think of him no more. I have other -brighter, better, and richer views for you, -my dear child, and I hope you will not -disappoint us all. Sir Paget loves you, -and you will think seriously over all -this?' -</p> - -<p> -'How can I do otherwise, papa?' was -the dubious response, and the girl stole -away to her own room. So wearing the -diamonds seemed only to be bringing -about a sudden crisis in the affairs of -herself and the banished Evan Cameron, -for such she deemed him. -</p> - -<p> -And, ere she went to bed that night, -Eveline, poor girl, strove to pray that she -might have some guide or assistance up -the stony and thorny path which she -feared was before her now in life; but she -no longer now had the deep and unbroken -sleep that had ever been her lot the -moment her soft cheek touched the pillow. -Too nervous to sleep alone, she crept in -beside Olive, and, nestling her little face -in the white bosom of her cousin, wept -long and bitterly. -</p> - -<p> -But events were now to occur that -caused even the brilliant proposal of Sir -Paget to be forgotten. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t4"> -LONDON: PRINTED BY DUNCAN MACDONALD, BLENHEIM HOUSE. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE, VOLUME I (OF 3) ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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