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diff --git a/old/65616-h/65616-h.htm b/old/65616-h/65616-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index cd72d11..0000000 --- a/old/65616-h/65616-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10019 +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 II, -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 II (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 II (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 #65616]</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 II (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 /> -</p> - -<p class="t3"> - VOL. II.<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">Mystery</a><br /> - II. <a href="#chap02">A Modern Use for a Mediæval Institution</a><br /> - III. <a href="#chap03">Holcroft Departs</a><br /> - IV. <a href="#chap04">Suspense</a><br /> - V. <a href="#chap05">The Oubliette</a><br /> - VI. <a href="#chap06">Cead Mille Maloch!</a><br /> - VII. <a href="#chap07">Lovers</a><br /> - VIII. <a href="#chap08">At Maviswood</a><br /> - IX. <a href="#chap09">'Alice!'</a><br /> - X. <a href="#chap10">'The Mysteries of Udolpho.'</a><br /> - XI. <a href="#chap11">'Gup,' and What Came of It</a><br /> - XII. <a href="#chap12">Olive's Visitor</a><br /> - XIII. <a href="#chap13">Wedded</a><br /> - XIV. <a href="#chap14">Mistrust</a><br /> - XV. <a href="#chap15">The Black Watch</a><br /> - XVI. <a href="#chap16">In the Belvidere</a><br /> - XVII. <a href="#chap17">The Route</a><br /> - XVIII. <a href="#chap18">'Idiots only will be Cozened Twice.'</a><br /> - XIX. <a href="#chap19">In the Land of the Pharaohs</a><br /> - XX. <a href="#chap20">The March through Goshen</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 /> -MYSTERY. -</h3> - -<p> -So all the guests had quitted Dundargue -now but Hawke Holcroft. In two days -he was to depart for what he called 'his -chambers in town;' thus Allan was -compelled to continue his polite dissimulation, -and be on suave and apparently easy terms -with him as a guest, though the latter felt -that there was an undefinable change in -his manner towards him. -</p> - -<p> -Indeed, it was only by a great effort of -self-control that the Master of Aberfeldie, -a man with the highest and keenest sense -of honour, and knowing all he did, -continued to treat Holcroft with politeness; -but he writhed and shivered when he -heard him, in the drawing-room or -elsewhere, address Olive or Eveline. -</p> - -<p> -All the forenoon after Cameron's -departure, when poor little Eveline was most -triste and miserable, our other pair of -lovers were very happy. They had what -they were pleased to call 'a picnic' on the -tower-head of Dundargue. Allan's portion -thereof was cigars, and Olive's a little -basket of purple grapes and luscious -strawberries (though the season was -autumn) from the hothouses. -</p> - -<p> -So with these two, the hours passed -sweetly and swiftly, with the blue sky -overhead, while far away in the distance, -and steeped in sunny haze, stretched the -lovely Carse of Gowrie; and talking of -themselves, their past folly, their present -joy, and the brilliant future that was to -come, they billed and cooed after the -fashion of all lovers since flowers grew in -Eden. -</p> - -<p> -Allan lolled at length on the stone -bartizan of the tower whence molten lead -and arrows had more than once been -launched on a foe beneath, Olive with her -fair head reclined against his shoulder -toying with her fruit, while he did so with -her silky hair, or kissed her lips and hands, -and called her all manner of funny and -endearing names that would look rather odd -in print; and yet amid their present -happiness it was strange that each wondered -more than once, if coldness or estrangement -would ever come between them -again. -</p> - -<p> -Never—oh, never. -</p> - -<p> -'You complained that the gardeners saw -me kissing you in the rosery yesterday, -Olive,' said Allan. 'Now, little woman, -who should I kiss if I don't kiss you? -Well, only the crows overhead can see us -up here, at all events.' -</p> - -<p> -But now as he toyed with her hands, -marvelling as he did so at their whiteness -and beauty, and anon played with the -bangles that encircled her rounded arms, -he bethought of the one worn—yes, -actually worn—by Holcroft, and silently he -resolved to possess himself of it without -delay; so, ere the bell rang for luncheon, -he made an excuse, conducted his cousin, -with many a pause and long delay which -were not idly spent, down the dark and -winding staircase from the head of the -tower. -</p> - -<p> -In his new-found happiness until now -he had forgotten all about the bangle, -which—perhaps for some ulterior purpose -of his own—Holcroft seemed to have -quietly appropriated, and by whom he -wished it returned without any fuss or -explanation. -</p> - -<p> -To this end he sought that personage -after luncheon was over, and was sure he -would find him either practising strokes in -the billiard-room, in the smoking-room, or -stables, watching the horses and catching -hints from the grooms. -</p> - -<p> -He found him in the first-named place, -cue in hand. -</p> - -<p> -'Ready for a game?' said he. -</p> - -<p> -'No, thanks.' -</p> - -<p> -'Sorry; Cameron, and everyone is gone. -I'm reduced to playing the right hand -against the left.' -</p> - -<p> -'And while playing I perceive that you -have a gold bangle of Miss Raymond's on -your left wrist?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes,' replied Holcroft, leisurely—Allan -thought impertinently. -</p> - -<p> -'Did she give it to you?' -</p> - -<p> -'Why do you ask?' -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Did</i> she give it to you?' repeated -Allan, with a dangerous gleam in his dark -eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'No.' -</p> - -<p> -'How comes it to be there, then?' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't take to high falutin. I slipped -it on in mere fun, and it will not come off -again. -</p> - -<p> -'Indeed! allow me.' -</p> - -<p> -And Allan, in a moment, by twisting -the ductile Indian gold, wrenched it off, -and Holcroft's eyes had a malevolent flash -in them as he stooped to strike a ball. -</p> - -<p> -'Thanks,' said Allan, pocketing the -bangle. 'Now we shall have a cigar.' -</p> - -<p> -For a moment he felt a little ashamed of -his sudden irritation, and proffered his -cigar-case to Holcroft, who smiled his -thanks and accepted a Havana. -</p> - -<p> -The Master was younger and handsomer -than he; the heir to an ancient title and -estate; he had the envied prestige of -having borne himself bravely when under fire -with the Black Watch, and had a goodly -crop of medals—not so many as my Lord -Wolseley, of course—but still, when in -uniform, a goodly display. -</p> - -<p> -He had all the advantages over Hawke -Holcroft that one man could have over -another; and in his heart of hearts the -other hated—yea, with a bitter and deadly -hate—Allan Graham—a hate beyond his -love, real or supposed, for Olive Raymond, -natheless all Olive's beauty and her -money—his chief lure and incentive. -</p> - -<p> -While conversing and joking together in -the smoking-room, or on the terrace, amid -the pleasures of the table, knocking the -balls about at billiards or so forth, how -little could the unconscious Allan have -dreamed that his father's guest—the son -of his old friend—had been pondering over -the art of 'Killing no murder;' of accidents -brought about in the hunting-field, at cover -shooting, or hill-climbing; even of -dynamite cigars! Had he not heard of such -things at Monaco, Homburg, and elsewhere. -</p> - -<p> -He knew that there was quite a manufactory -of such cigars at Temeswar, in -Austria; but wherever were such pleasant -gifts 'to be obtained in an out-of-the-way -hole like the Carse of Gowrie?' -</p> - -<p> -His teeth under his moustache glittered -or glistened whitely when such ideas -occurred to him; though he chatted away -with perhaps forced <i>insouciance</i> and -gaiety, under all his assumed ease of -manner there smouldered a lava-like -glow—mingled hate of Allan and coveting of -Olive, but with an emotion of a much -coarser nature, combined with greed. -</p> - -<p> -Seeing Clairette, Olive's maid, passing, -Allan made up the bangle in a little packet -as he still wished no more explanations on -the subject, and desired her to give it to -her mistress. -</p> - -<p> -'You and Miss Raymond seem exceedingly -good friends now,' said Holcroft. -</p> - -<p> -'We were never otherwise,' replied -Allan, curtly, and displeased by the remark. -</p> - -<p> -'What a prize in matrimony such a girl -must be, with so much beauty and—wealth.' -</p> - -<p> -'It is sometimes a misfortune for a girl -to be rich, or to be thought so,' said -Allan. -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because she may become the prey of -some needy fortune-hunter or enterprising -scamp.' -</p> - -<p> -Holcroft winced at the reply, though it -was made casually and without the least -design by Allan. -</p> - -<p> -'But in marrying, Miss Raymond might -perhaps be poor enough.' -</p> - -<p> -'What paradox is this?' asked Holcroft, -thoroughly interested, while Allan felt -some disdain at discussing such matters -with such a man. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, poor as a church mouse, unless—' -</p> - -<p> -'Unless what?' -</p> - -<p> -'She marries <i>me</i>,' replied Allan, who, -with perhaps pardonable pique, only -thought of provoking a man who had -tried to rival him, and whom he deemed -a needy and adventurous gambler. -</p> - -<p> -This seemed only to corroborate what -Holcroft had heard before, and gave him -some occasion for thought. -</p> - -<p> -'I have heard rumours of a family -compact—a most fortunate one for you,' said -he, smiling; 'but suppose you—excuse -me for saying so—were to predecease -her?' -</p> - -<p> -'Then my pretty cousin would be a free -woman; but I don't mean to die yet awhile. -Let us take a turn before dinner,' he -added, to change the conversation he had no -desire to continue. -</p> - -<p> -'Where?' -</p> - -<p> -'Anywhere you like; but, as the -evening has become chill, suppose we -smoke our cigars in the picture-gallery?' -</p> - -<p> -'All right, I am your man.' -</p> - -<p> -Had Allan looked at Hawke Holcroft -just then he might have perceived a -lurid gleam in his stealthy eyes, and -how his hands were clenched till the -nails of his fingers bruised the palms -thereof. -</p> - -<p> -Olive received her bangle, and though -startled by the abruptness with which it -was returned, without message or explanation -from Allan, as Clairette told her, she -thought less of the circumstance then than -she did a day or two after. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Dinner was announced; Holcroft appeared -in accurate evening dress as usual, -and, after waiting a few minutes for Allan -who did not appear, the meal was proceeded -with in the slow fashion peculiar to -Dundargue, though only five were seated -at table. -</p> - -<p> -Ere dessert came, Lady Aberfeldie dispatched -a servant to Allan's room in search -of him. He was not there, though his -evening dress was laid out as usual. -</p> - -<p> -'Where can he be? Where can he -have gone?' were the queries on all hands, -which, as night began to draw on without -his appearing, took the form of alarm, -'and what can have happened?' -</p> - -<p> -'Did Allan drop hints of going -anywhere?' asked Lord Aberfeldie. -</p> - -<p> -All answered 'No.' -</p> - -<p> -'It is most mysterious.' -</p> - -<p> -Still more mysterious did it appear when -the night, passed without his being seen, -and when his place was still vacant at the -breakfast-table next day. Lord Aberfeldie -was in dire perplexity; the ladies were pale -and already betook themselves to tears. -</p> - -<p> -'If Allan has left the house as suddenly -as he did before, he has taken neither -clothes nor portmanteau with him, as -Tappleton assures me; so what can it mean?' -exclaimed Lord Aberfeldie. -</p> - -<p> -A gun was missing from the gun-room. -Could Allan have gone to shoot with -Logan at Loganlee? But Olive deemed it -impossible that he would do so -without consulting her, and on looking at -Holcroft she thought he looked rather hot and -disturbed. -</p> - -<p> -'The bangle, the bangle!' thought the -girl, with sudden terror. 'Can he have -gone in a fit of jealousy. Mercy! if it -should be so.' -</p> - -<p> -Inquiries proved that Allan had not -passed out by the entrance gates, as the -lodge-keeper affirmed, and no trace of -footsteps could be found at any of the -private gates to the grounds; and it -was soon discovered that he had not -taken a ticket for any place at the railway -station. -</p> - -<p> -What terrible mystery was here? -</p> - -<p> -The family began to look with growing -alarm and dismay blankly into each other's -pale faces. -</p> - -<p> -Keepers and gillies, strong, active, and -keen-sighted fellows, Hector, Alister Bain, -Angus and Dugal Glas—even old Ronald -Gair, the piper—searched, but in vain, the -grounds, plantations, even the adjacent -hills and glens; but not a trace was found -of the missing Allan. -</p> - -<p> -He seemed suddenly to have dropped -out of existence. -</p> - -<p> -As this, his last day at Dundargue, drew -on, none made himself more active in -searching and riding about the roads than -Holcroft, and so preoccupied were all that -no one—even Olive—noticed that his face -was pale and cadaverous—and wore a very -disturbed expression, and that his pale -eyes seemed to glare defiantly if anyone -looked at him, while he sedulously kept his -<i>right hand gloved</i>. -</p> - -<p> -How are we to relate all that really had -happened. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER II. -<br /><br /> -A MODERN USE FOR A MEDIÆVAL INSTITUTION. -</h3> - -<p> -'The world is not a bad world, after all,' -said Allan, as he and Holcroft, after a -casual glance at the long lines of portraits -panelled in the wainscotting of the gallery, -together with many a Cuyp, Zucchero, -Canaletti, and so forth, now looked out -from one of the lofty windows upon the -fair domain of his family, that spread for -miles around Dundargue. -</p> - -<p> -'It is easy enough for you to talk thus -of the world,' thought Holcroft, 'but if, -like me, you had only debts and difficulties -for your patrimony you might take a -different view.' -</p> - -<p> -'I was born here in Dundargue, and -all the happy memories of my childhood -centre round it,' said Allan. 'Every man, -woman, and child in the place are known -to me; every rock and hill, glen and -woodland, familiar, with all their stories -and traditions; and wherever I might be -with the Black Watch, in England on the -staff, far away in central India, or in the -gorges of Afghanistan, my memory always -fled home to dear old Dundargue and all -its surroundings.' -</p> - -<p> -'How pathetic!' sneered Holcroft, silently, -and puzzled to understand the mood of -Allan, who, in the consciousness of his own -happiness with Olive, felt at that moment -rather inclined to take a soft and generous -view of the world at large. -</p> - -<p> -'It certainly is a fine old ancestral -house—one to be proud of,' said Holcroft, aloud, -'with a special history, and all that sort -of thing. I have heard a devil of a deal -about its oubliette—where is it?' -</p> - -<p> -'Let me show you—come this way,' said -Allan, lighting a fresh cigar. -</p> - -<p> -Smoking together, Allan, and Holcroft -following, wandered up and down circular -stone stairs in narrow turrets, where the -steps had been worn and hollowed by the -feet of long departed generations; through -dusky corridors where, in some places, -moth-eaten arras hung upon its rusty -tenter-hooks, and where, as Holcroft said, -there was 'a loud smell of mice;' through -secret doors and past 'the priest's hole,' in -which James of Jerusalem abode, till they -reached a narrow stone passage near the -summit of the great tower, closed by a -massive little door. -</p> - -<p> -Allan threw this open, and the black, -round mouth of the oubliette, about four -feet in diameter, yawned before them. -</p> - -<p> -The great, horizontal stone slab or -flagstone, which in ancient times had closed -the mouth of this horrible accessory to -feudal tyranny, had long since given place -to a massive trap-door of oak, which was -held up by a wooden prop, under which -the cold, dark vault showed its mysterious -profundity. -</p> - -<p> -'By Jove! it is a strange affair; more -like a draw-well than anything else.' -</p> - -<p> -'But supposed to be twelve feet diameter -at the bottom—a fine old relic of the -days when "warriors bold wore spurs of -gold," and the rack and the red-hot -ploughshare were aids to the orthodox opinions -of society in religion and politics.' -</p> - -<p> -And Allan laughed as he spoke. -</p> - -<p> -'How foetid its atmosphere is! That -door has not been open for an age, and -may be closed for as long again. No one -ever comes here.' -</p> - -<p> -Peering downward, as if into a well, they -saw the outlines of their heads reflected in -a little pool of water at the bottom, but -how far down it was impossible to say. -</p> - -<p> -'Once upon a time,' said Allan, 'when -parts of the Carse of Gowrie were under -water, in wet seasons especially, it flowed -in here, how no one knew, unless through -fissures in the rock, and drowned like a -rat any luckless wight who was thrown in -to be—to be——' -</p> - -<p> -'What?' -</p> - -<p> -'Forgotten. So the phrase went then; -hence its name.' -</p> - -<p> -'And do you mean to say that no one -who was dropped into that confounded -hole ever came up again?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Were their cries not heard?' -</p> - -<p> -'No; the walls around are so thick, and -the bottom is in the living rock on which -Dundargue stands.' -</p> - -<p> -'By Jove!' exclaimed Holcroft again, as -if perplexed, so much so that he had let -his cigar grow cold. 'And their bones?' he -asked, after a pause. -</p> - -<p> -'Were found in quantities by certain -explorers, who went down with torches, -some years ago. I have not looked into -this place for years—not since I left for -the regiment in India,' said Allan, stooping, -somewhat dangerously—and, to Holcroft's -sudden idea, somewhat temptingly—over -the dangerous profundity, into -which he was striving to peer. -</p> - -<p> -With all the rapidity of light, many -terrible thoughts now crowded into the -mind of Holcroft. He hated Allan -Graham with deadly rivalry and hate -combined. Never again, in the desperation of -his affairs, might he have the chance of an -introduction to such a prize as Olive -Raymond, or be on such a footing, as he had -recently found himself with her. -</p> - -<p> -He loathed Allan for all Allan possessed, -and, as we are told, 'a coward who knows -himself to be at once despised but -unchastised, for a woman's sake, can hate.' -</p> - -<p> -If he lost his chances with Olive, -beggary stared him in the face; drops of -perspiration started to his forehead, and -chance now confirmed his diabolical -resolution. The gloomy fiend was uppermost, -his revenge, and perhaps future triumph, -stood embodied before him. He did not -pause, and all these dire thoughts occurred -to him in less than the space of one -vibration of a pendulum. -</p> - -<p> -Had the Master of Aberfeldie turned -sharply round he might have read in -Holcroft's white face an expression that was -not pleasant to look upon just then—the -face of one that would work him mischief -if he could; but the unwitting Allan was -doing what he had not done since boyhood, -he was peering with vague curiosity into -the profundity below. -</p> - -<p> -A fury, a clamorous anxiety, seemed to -blaze up in the heart and brain of -Holcroft, who was a practised 'bruiser,' and -he suddenly gave Allan an awful blow -under the left ear—a blow hit right out from -the shoulder—that shot him headlong into -the vault. -</p> - -<p> -He vanished from the light; there was -a heavy thud far down below, and then all -became still—unnaturally so; but Holcroft -could hear the beating of his own pulses, -while the blood seemed to be surging about -his throbbing temples. -</p> - -<p> -Was he acting in a dream from which -he would waken to find himself in bed? or -was all this happening, not to him, but to -some one else? No, there was the bruised -right hand, from which the violence of -his blow had torn the skin. -</p> - -<p> -He had read of dark crimes, of <i>murders</i>, -but little did he think he would ever -become the participator in such a deed; but -opportunity is always the devil's game. -</p> - -<p> -For a minute—an eternity it seemed, by -the chaos of his mind, the sudden -inversion of all thought—he did not breathe, -he scarcely seemed to live. -</p> - -<p> -There was a whisper of 'murder' on his -lips, and it seemed to have an echo, that -terrible whisper, but whether from the -walls, the trees that waved below them, -the blue sky, or the crows that were -winging their way through it, he knew not. -He seemed to whisper the awful word to -himself, with quivering lips, again and -again, as if he required an assurance of -its truth, and then sought to rouse himself -from his lethargic stupor, quit the scene -of his sudden crime, and seek safety in -flight—flight! -</p> - -<p> -But, then, to quit Dundargue thus would -fix suspicion on himself. Had not Clairette, -the French maid, seen him but lately -with Allan? And flight would mar the -very object for which he had committed the -crime. -</p> - -<p> -Should he—could he—at all risks to -himself and his fortune, ere it was too -late, strive to undo what he had done; to -give an alarm, and make some excuse or -explanation ere life had departed from the -shattered frame of his victim, or leave the -latter to his obscure fate—a grave under -his father's roof! -</p> - -<p> -Cowardice and meanness, hatred, jealousy, -and avarice all suggested the latter. -</p> - -<p> -He knew not the depth of this strange -prison, or how far down beneath the -foundations of lofty Dundargue and into the rock -on which it stands, the sill or floor of the -noisome vault might be. -</p> - -<p> -He listened; not a sound came upward, -nor was there any, save the wild beating of -his own heart and the buzzing and singing -of blood in his ears. -</p> - -<p> -He softly closed the wooden trap-door, -let the enormous iron hasp thereof drop -over the rusty staple; he closed the massive -external entrance, and stealthily crept -or glided away. -</p> - -<p> -There seemed a silence all around him -now; such a silence as must have appalled -the soul of the first murderer when he -'rose up against Abel, his brother, and -slew him.' -</p> - -<p> -So the tragedy—the dark crime—was -acted as suddenly as it was weird—suggested -by a whisper of the devil! There -was nothing very tragic in the accessories -of the scene; but, as an author says, 'Are -not real tragedies, the social tragedies that -go on about us in our every-day life, -enacted like comedies, until the last -moment, when the curtain falls, and all is -dark?' -</p> - -<p> -Pale as death in visage (he felt himself -to be so), stealthy in step and eye, he -stole away to his own apartment in a -modern part of the mansion. How he -reached it he never knew, but mechanically -of course, and he blessed his stars -that he reached it unseen. -</p> - -<p> -He took a long pull at the brandy -flask—tore off his collar and necktie, and -cast himself half fainting on his bed, -where he lay panting and gasping -heavily. -</p> - -<p> -Every sound that came to his ear, every -step that approached, seemed to Hawke -Holcroft the herald of discovery, and he -longed with the most intense nervous -intensity to leave this loathed Dundargue -behind him! -</p> - -<p> -Was the Master dying there or dead -outright? Where he lay no sound could -ever reach the external air. But had not -his victim assured him that no cry could -ever come from there—the place was so -deep—so remote? -</p> - -<p> -Would the next evening, when he was -to depart, never come? Then he had the -meals, the family, and their surmises to -face! -</p> - -<p> -He had a haggard and hunted look that -evening and all next day, which Lord -Aberfeldie, in the kindness of his heart, -amid all his own new anxiety, attributed -to the pressure of his monetary affairs. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER III. -<br /><br /> -HOLCROFT DEPARTS. -</h3> - -<p> -It was a considerable relief to Holcroft's -mind to perceive that this second abrupt -disappearance of Allan excited more -surprise than alarm in his family circle; and -in her own thoughts Lady Aberfeldie -secretly connected it with some lovers' -quarrel between him and Olive; it was so -like their past relations that some such -folly should intervene. -</p> - -<p> -The bell for dinner sounded much earlier -than usual, as Mr. Holcroft was to depart -for the south that evening, and to see him -in the drawing-room dressed <i>de rigueur</i> in -black, with spotless shirt-front and -diamond studs, with tie and collar perfect, his -hair brushed with precision and the ends -of his tawny moustache waxed out to -sharp points, who could have imagined -him an actor in that scene in the distant -arched passage, or connected him with what -was lying at the bottom of that deep, dark -oubliette! -</p> - -<p> -Holcroft always thought that great -games involved serious hazards; but now -this was a hazard beyond all his previous -calculations. -</p> - -<p> -The greatest chance of fortune he had -ever seen in his varied life seemed to be -slipping—or to have speedily slipped—away -from him, when Olive Raymond and -her cousin suddenly appeared on such -amicable terms; savage emotions of -mingled disappointment and revenge filled his -heart, and certainly he had given full -swing to them! -</p> - -<p> -Now, what he had done was over; the -rubicon had been passed. He was—what -he dared not name himself: the thought -of all that Allan Graham must endure ere -he died (if he was not already dead) -was—at times, but at times only—maddening -even to his destroyer; and he felt that he -could not too soon place miles upon miles -between himself and Dundargue; and that, -happen what might, he would never set -foot in Dundargue again. -</p> - -<p> -Seated at that luxurious table with the -hospitable father, the patrician-like mother, -the tender sister and brilliant <i>fiancée</i> of him -he had slain, with stately-liveried valets in -attendance, while longing for the conveyance -or carriage that was to take him to -the station, he <i>did</i> feel more than once -as if he would go mad if it lasted -much longer—this acting—this tension of -the heart—but, as we say, for a time only. -He was too near the scene of his awful -crime not to feel his soul shrink with -selfish horror and dismay, which made him -nervously twist up, roll, and unroll his -<i>serviette</i>, as it is called in Scotland. -</p> - -<p> -Was it only a few hours since he had -heard that terrible <i>thud</i> amid the darkness -and the clash of the oak trap-door? And -there were <i>his</i> family all seated with -him—Holcroft—at the same table, all -unconscious of what was lying within a few yards -of them, and yet not considering him the -blackest criminal in the world, but a -departing guest to be treated with kindness -and courtesy. -</p> - -<p> -Thank heaven he would be far away -from them ere Allan would be found to -be hopelessly gone, and he would see -nothing of their growing misery. -</p> - -<p> -To drown thought, care, and memory, -Holcroft, after the ladies retired to the -drawing-room, imbibed systematically more -than usual. Ere this, Olive had thought -his manner excited—strange only. -Unused to see men under the influence of -wine, she thought no more of it. But, as -Holcroft took to 'lacing' his clicquot with -brandy when occasion served, that may -account for some of the peculiar remarks -to Olive yet to be recorded. -</p> - -<p> -From an early period Eveline had -conceived a shuddering kind of aversion of -Holcroft—an emotion not rare in certain -nervous organisations like hers; nor could -she have explained why more particularly -<i>now</i> his presence, though at table as usual, -had filled her with an undefined distrust -and dread; yet so it was. -</p> - -<p> -But in the drawing-room her own -thoughts came more than ever back to -her, and these were all of Evan Cameron. -</p> - -<p> -'He is gone!' she was always whispering -to herself; 'too probably for ever and for -ever. We shall never meet again. How -dull my world will seem without Evan, -and how old and queer I begin to feel -already!' -</p> - -<p> -But poor Eveline knew not what a small -place the world is—now-a-days especially. -</p> - -<p> -'You seem rather out of sorts,' said -Lord Aberfeldie, who had been eyeing 'his -old friend's son,' while pushing the decanters -towards him; 'I hope there is nothing -wrong with you, especially as this is your -last evening here.' -</p> - -<p> -'No, nothing very wrong,' stammered -Holcroft, scarcely knowing what to say, -but driven to shelter himself under what -was his normal condition; 'it is only—only——' -</p> - -<p> -'What?' -</p> - -<p> -'I have had more than one annoying -letter,' he said, with a kind of gasp, and -paused. -</p> - -<p> -'About money—of course?' said Lord -Aberfeldie. -</p> - -<p> -'One was a threat from a tailor,' replied -Holcroft, making a terrible effort to appear -facetious, 'who says if I don't pay him he -will take means to make me do so.' -</p> - -<p> -'And you?' -</p> - -<p> -'Wrote back that I was delighted to -hear he had the means, as this was more -than I had.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, my dear fellow, your father was -one of my oldest friends; for his sake can -I square it for you?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Lord Aberfeldie, don't think of -that!' -</p> - -<p> -'What's the total?'' asked the other, -opening a davenport. -</p> - -<p> -'Close on £500,' said Holcroft, with an -effort, which certainly was an emotion, but -not gratitude. -</p> - -<p> -'There, Holcroft—pay me when you -can, or choose,' said Lord Aberfeldie, -throwing down his pen, closing the -davenport, and handing a cheque for the sum -named to his guest, to stop whose thanks -he plunged at once into the inevitable story -of the charge of the Black Watch along -the Kourgané Hill; how he fell wounded; -and how, but for Holcroft's father, 'a squad -of infernal Russians,' <i>et cetera</i>, and so forth. -</p> - -<p> -'Another glass of Moët, and then we -shall join the ladies.' -</p> - -<p> -'Life is a hard game with some of us -now,' said Holcroft, as he pocketed his -cheque. 'As some one has written, "Men -cannot go freebooting or looting now, -except in business; and it is quite a -question whether a modern <i>promoter</i> is not quite -as respectable a member of society as a -riever used to be, in the old days when -right was might." -</p> - -<p> -'And Dundargue was built,' added Lord -Aberfeldie, laughing. -</p> - -<p> -'I did not say so.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah, but you thought it.' -</p> - -<p> -And now they rose from the table. -</p> - -<p> -Holcroft was not the better, but rather -the worse for his potations. He had eaten -little and drunk much. Thus he looked -very pale—almost ghastly; and a strange -fixed grimness replaced occasionally the -usual restlessness of his shifty pale eyes -and freckled face. -</p> - -<p> -Curiously enough he had hovering in -his mind a kind of vengeance just then at -Olive. But for her sudden, and, as he -thought, capricious preference for her -cousin, and throwing <i>him</i> so completely -over, the deed he had committed would -never have been done. -</p> - -<p> -Eveline had withdrawn to her room, -whither her mother had followed her, bent -on worry and expostulation no doubt; -Lord Aberfeldie was required by his -steward, and Holcroft found Olive seated -alone in a bay window of the drawing-room, -watching the last rays of the sun -fading out behind the Sidlaw Hills. -</p> - -<p> -'Another hour—even less, Miss -Raymond—and my place here will be vacant,' -said he, in a low and unnatural voice, -while attempting to hang over her chair in -his old fashion. -</p> - -<p> -'I got back my bangle, thanks,' said she, -a little irrelevantly, but feeling a necessity -for saying something. -</p> - -<p> -'Have you forgotten all that passed -between us before and after you allowed me -to retain it.' -</p> - -<p> -'I never allowed you to retain it, nor -aught of mine, save perhaps a bud from -a bouquet. I have not forgotten that -you, apparently, sought to do me a -great honour, Mr. Holcroft; but I -scarcely thought, even then, that you were -serious.' -</p> - -<p> -'Serious! Did you not know that I -loved you better than my own life.' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot listen to this kind of thing,' -said she, rising with positive hauteur and -annoyance in her face and manner; 'you -forget yourself.' -</p> - -<p> -'When with you I always do—forgive me!' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot forgive you for talking to me -thus.' -</p> - -<p> -'You used not to dislike me, I know; -and now there is no sacrifice I would not -make to win your love——' -</p> - -<p> -'Permit me to pass!' exclaimed Olive, -but he barred her way, and now a glow -of half-tipsy rage seemed to possess him. -</p> - -<p> -'Listen, Olive Raymond,' said he, in a -low, concentrated and almost fierce tone; -'I have dared and risked much for you—more -than you can conceive. There has -seldom been aught that I have sworn to -possess that has not in time been -mine—mine, do you hear! To those who wait, -their time and turn always come. I have -sworn to possess you, and woe to the man -who comes between us.' -</p> - -<p> -She regarded him with a haughty and -scared yet scornful eye. She saw now -that this melo-drama was the result of -wine. -</p> - -<p> -'Do you think you could compel me to -love you?' she asked, with a provoking -smile. -</p> - -<p> -'No.' -</p> - -<p> -'What then?' -</p> - -<p> -'To marry me.' -</p> - -<p> -'Under what pressure, sir?' -</p> - -<p> -'That is my secret—-in time you may -find it out,' he added, bowing to her with -ominous, not mock, politeness, as she -passed him with a haughty stare, and left the -room. 'She forgets that I have yet her -photo, with her own name written on the -back in her own hand; and if ever man -put the screw on a woman by such a little -thing as that, I shall put it on you, Olive -Raymond, if you continue to play my Lady -Disdain to me!' -</p> - -<p> -And for a moment he cast after her -retiring figure a glance of sardonic hate a -devil might have emulated. -</p> - -<p> -'Good-bye,' he muttered, mockingly, 'is -an unpleasant thing to say; with us let it -be <i>au revoir</i> rather; perhaps she may yet -wave a damp pocket-handkerchief from the -outward wall as I ride away; who knows.' -</p> - -<p> -'Sorry to say time is up, my dear fellow,' -said Lord Aberfeldie, entering the room -with his hat and driving gloves; 'make -your adieux to the ladies. There is little -doubt that Allan has gone to Loganlee—the -covers are first-rate there. I'll just drive -over and see, dropping you and your traps -at the railway station <i>en passant</i>.' -</p> - -<p> -A few minutes more and the pair were -tooling down the avenue in a smart mail -phaeton, drawn by a pair of fine, high-stepping -dark greys. So Lord Aberfeldie drove -'the son of his oldest friend' to the station, -and, as the distance increased between -himself and Dundargue, Holcroft's spirits -revived, as if nothing had happened there at -all; he actually said, -</p> - -<p> -'And you think to find Allan at -Loganlee?' -</p> - -<p> -'I haven't a doubt of it—some tift with -Olive, no doubt.' -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Au revoir</i>, Lord Aberfeldie! and a thousand -thanks for all your kindness to me—never -shall forget it, by Jove! but I shall -have the pleasure of seeing you all again -in town, of course.' -</p> - -<p> -To this expression of pleasure Lord -Aberfeldie made no response, but shook -Holcroft's hand, whipped up his greys, and -was off, thinking, -</p> - -<p> -'I am glad <i>he</i> has gone; he looks sadly -strange and queer, poor fellow.' -</p> - -<p> -Holcroft was intensely relieved when -the peer had left, and, making straight -for the railway buffet, imbibed glass after -glass of pretty potent Glenlivat, conversing -affably the while with the young damsel -thereat. -</p> - -<p> -'Of what are you thinking, sir, that you -stare at me so?' she asked, with a giggle. -</p> - -<p> -'Only that your mother must have been -a sweetly pretty girl!' -</p> - -<p> -The train was late; thus he had to spend -some time in staring aimlessly at the -flaming advertisements on the station -wall—an Anglo-American fashion now spread -to Scotland—advertisements of some one's -cocoa, some one's corsets, some one's whisky, -and so forth; and, after glancing with a -contemptuous malediction at the thick bible -left by the Scottish something society in -the little waiting-room, he smoked a cigar, -had himself weighed, had a brandy and soda, -had some more chaff with the pretty girl -at the buffet, till the night train came -snorting and clanking in, when he took his seat, -spread his rugs, and was off, as he thought, -to security at last! -</p> - -<p> -Though he was not without reasonable -and selfish dread for the future, as the -night train sped on its swift way, and left -the Carse of Gowrie far behind, he felt no -genuine compunction for the atrocity he -had committed. -</p> - -<p> -He did not possess a single spark of -honour, gratitude, compunction, or compassion. -By unfair play he had rooked many; he had -hocussed horses; and once ruined a poor -lad in the Lancers, on whom he contrived -to cast the suspicion of his own act. The -Lancer was dismissed the service by sentence -of a court-martial, and shot himself next -day; and Hawke Holcroft took his luxurious -luncheon quietly in the same inn where the -inquest was held, at the same time. He -had extorted money in many ways—he had -never precisely robbed; but never before -had he been in the dark abyss of -assassination and death till now! -</p> - -<p> -The annals of our courts of justice contain -many a terrible tale of guilt; but, says -a novelist with truth, these would appear -like nothing with the history of undiscovered -and unpunished crime. 'The assassin -who accomplishes his terrible purpose so -craftily as to escape detection is a cool and -calculating fiend, by the side of whose -supreme villainy, the half-premeditated crime -of the ordinary shedder of blood, is -dwarfed into insignificance.' -</p> - -<p> -So on and on sped the swift night train, -and there seemed every probability that -the deed of Holcroft would be one of the -crimes referred to, that are neither -discovered nor punished. -</p> - -<p> -He gave a last look into his pocket-book -to assure himself that the cheque and the -photo of Olive were safe, and then tried to -compose himself to sleep. -</p> - -<p> -Let us hope that the attempt was vain! -</p> - -<p> -He could not help pondering over the -remark of Allan about how foetid the air -of the oubliette was—that the door had -not been opened for an age, and no one -ever thought of going near it. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER IV. -<br /><br /> -SUSPENSE. -</h3> - -<p> -Lord Aberfeldie drove home in some -alarm and dismay. Allan was not at -Loganlee, nor had he been near it! -When Ruby, the amber-haired little -beauty, heard of his visit and its object, -she was not slow to connect Allan's second -disappearance with some lover's quarrel -between him and Olive, and to gather -certain jealous and pleasant hopes therefrom, -for Allan was decidedly 'a weakness' -of Ruby's. -</p> - -<p> -Uncertainty and suspense were -increasing now in all their minute horror at -Dundargue; while surmises proved endless, -futile, and unavailing. -</p> - -<p> -He was gone—but where, or how, and -why? -</p> - -<p> -'Something has happened—something -fatal—to my son!' wailed Lady Aberfeldie. -'Give me back those fatal diamonds, -Eveline. They are never worn, that sorrow -does not come to Dundargue!' -</p> - -<p> -'Take courage, my lady,' said old -Tappleton, the butler; 'ill news aye travels -fast enough, and if ought was wrang wi' -the Master, we should hae heard o't ere -now.' -</p> - -<p> -Evan Cameron, now with his regiment, -and the legal agents of the family at -Edinburgh, were alike perplexed on the -receipt of letters from Lord Aberfeldie -inquiring anxiously if they knew anything -of the movements of Allan, and both -telegraphed back that they could give no -information on the subject. -</p> - -<p> -With these telegrams the last hope -passed away, and when the third day of -his disappearance began to close a kind of -horror seemed to settle over the household, -and again a general, and, of course, -unavailing, search was made through the -entire neighbourhood. -</p> - -<p> -On the face of the servants, male and -female, there was never a smile now, as -they all loved Allan well; it was no assumed -expression they wore; but they went about -their daily work with a hushed and -subdued air as if there was death in the -house, and they fully felt the weight of -the mystery. -</p> - -<p> -And ever at table stood the vacant -chair, while covers were laid as usual for -the absent one. -</p> - -<p> -An accident must have happened; but -of what nature? Lord Aberfeldie was -beginning to think grimly, vaguely, and -painfully of the future. If aught fatal had -happened to Allan—his only son—an idea -from which his soul shrunk—his cherished -title and the grand old house of Dundargue -would pass to a remote cousin, one -who, by long residence in England, by -inter-marriage there, by training, breeding, -and habit of thought, cared no more for -Scotland and her interests, or for the -traditions of the Grahams of Aberfeldie, -than for those of Timbuctoo. -</p> - -<p> -Such ideas and fears had occurred to -him once before, he could remember, when -Allan's name appeared among the list of -severely wounded in that episode of the -Afghan affair, which won him the Victoria -Cross. -</p> - -<p> -To Lady Aberfeldie, such ideas, if they -occurred at all, were minor indeed to the -memories of Allan as the babe she had -nursed in her bosom, and the curly-haired -boy who had prattled at her knee; and on -whom, in manhood and his prime, she had -gazed with such maternal pride and admiration -when she saw him with the tartan and -plumed bonnet, in all the bravery of the -Black Watch. -</p> - -<p> -As for poor Olive and Eveline they could -only weep together from time to time in -all the girlish abandonment of woe. -</p> - -<p> -So hour by hour the silent time stole on -at Dundargue. -</p> - -<p> -Till now Olive had never known how -deeply and truly she loved Allan, of the -hold his image had upon her heart; and -how she had repented the pain her -petulance must have cost him. -</p> - -<p> -Her eyes in the morning light looked -weary, and yet there was an unnatural -sparkle in that weariness; her rich brown -hair, to the dismay of Mademoiselle -Clairette, was left almost undressed, and was -pushed back from her throbbing temples; -her lips, though scarlet still, looked hard, -dry, and cracked, while the whole expression -of her face seemed changed. -</p> - -<p> -What was to be the clue, if ever there -would be one, to this dreadful mystery! -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Meanwhile it might be inquired by the -reader whether Mr. Hawke Holcroft was -troubled by his conscience. He certainly -never betrayed any outward signs thereof—though -conscience has been described as -making cowards of us all—but he was not -without certain reasonable and wholesome -fears of discovery and connection of the -crime with himself. -</p> - -<p> -He was far away from Dundargue and -all its influences. In fact, it seemed a kind -of dream to him the circumstance of ever -having been there at all; and as weeks -passed on nothing could exceed his perplexity -and astonishment, though located in an -obscure corner of London to avoid his -creditors and, <i>pro tem.</i>, everyone else, to -hear nothing of the affair at Dundargue or -of the Master being missing. -</p> - -<p> -Sedulously he searched the daily prints, -sedulously he watched the sensational -portions of the evening third and fourth -editions, but the matter was never referred to. -No advertisements appeared offering -rewards; no detectives, or the usual -machinery seemed to have been put in motion. -What could it all mean—this silence and -mystery? -</p> - -<p> -Everything however trivial finds its way -into print now, and the son of a peer—and -an officer in Her Majesty's service, -too—does not vanish every day! -</p> - -<p> -At last he got a shock, when a poster -proclaimed in large capitals '<i>The mysterious -outrage at Dun—</i>' but his sight failed him -for a moment, and when again he looked -he perceived that it was not Dundargue, -but 'Dunecht,' that was mentioned with -reference to the affair of a past time. -</p> - -<p> -But in all this we are somewhat anticipating. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER V. -<br /><br /> -THE OUBLIETTE. -</h3> - -<p> -In these unromantic, plodding, prosaic -days of railways, telegraphs, and telephones -who would imagine that the fine old family -mansion of Dundargue would be the scene -of a crime—of a tragedy—suited only to -the days of the Sir Malise Graham of the -fourteenth century? -</p> - -<p> -Yet so it was. -</p> - -<p> -Allan was not killed—he was perhaps one -of those fellows who are not easily killed—but -he was severely injured by the fall and -concussion, and it was long before he -began to struggle back into a consciousness -of existence, as he had fallen partly on his -head and left shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -The former had suffered from that -circumstance, and from the dreadful blow -dealt him by Hawke Holcroft; and he -was not slow in discovering that his left -arm was useless—broken above the elbow. -</p> - -<p> -'Thank heaven, it is not my sword arm!' -he whispered, huskily, as he strove to -stagger up; but only to sink helplessly down -again on the cold stone floor of his prison. -</p> - -<p> -He was too weak—too confused to feel -either just rage or indignation yet. There -was a horrible dream-like sense of utter -unreality in the whole situation in which -he so suddenly found himself, and some -time elapsed before the whole episode with -Holcroft—his unfortunate offer to show -him this fatal place, the situation and -character of which had suddenly suggested the -crime—their idling in the picture-gallery, -smoking and wandering through corridors, -up and down ancient stairs, with eventually -a sudden recollection of the whole -adventure—surged into his brain, and a gasp -of rage escaped him. -</p> - -<p> -'Accursed coward and villain!' muttered -Allan, looking upward; but all was -darkness there and around him. -</p> - -<p> -The hours stole on. He staggered up, -and at last began to explore the place in -which he found himself—a somewhat needless -act, as he knew it but too well, having -many a time, when a boy, with fear, -awe, and curiosity, lowered down a candle -at the end of a string, and seen it swaying -to and fro far down below till the damp -vapour extinguished the flame. -</p> - -<p> -Yet he felt with his right hand the -circular wall of massive masonry which enclosed -him, carefully again and again, in the -desperate hope of finding some outlet, though -he knew well by the history and traditions -of the place that no such thing could ever -have existed; but he could not remain still -or withstand the nervous desire for -exertion—to be up and doing something; till -again he sank on the floor in utter weariness -of heart, albeit that heart was aflame -with rage. -</p> - -<p> -He uttered shouts for help from time to -time, till his voice became hoarse and began -to fail him, and his spirit too, as he knew -the enormous thickness of the old walls -around him; and tears of rage almost -escaped him as he pondered over the cold -and calculating villainy, of which he was -now so mysteriously the helpless victim. -</p> - -<p> -He had no doubt that the hours of the -night were now stealing on, and that long -ere this his absence must have been discovered, -and speculation would be rife. He -had his watch, but he was in utter and -blackest darkness, and his box of cigar lights -having dropped from his pocket he had no -means of consulting the dial. -</p> - -<p> -He could but lie there in great pain and -passive misery—a misery that seemed so -unnatural that it was like a nightmare, an -unreality, that must pass away as suddenly -as it had come upon him. -</p> - -<p> -How terrible and indescribable, however, -grew his aching thoughts as the weary -time went on! -</p> - -<p> -He might die of cold, of hunger, of agony—die -within a few yards of his own hearthstone—die -thus under his father's roof, and -close by where at that very moment the -whole family were a prey to bewilderment -and distress by his sudden disappearance! -</p> - -<p> -Oh, it was all too maddening to think of. -So there he could but lie, buried, immured, -entombed in darkness; chill as death, not -a breath of pure air in his nostrils; not the -faintest glimmer of light, and no human -sound in his ears. As the hours crept on -he could scarcely distinguish waking from -sleeping, a dream from reality; and at times -all seemed to become chaos, and he could -think of nothing unless it were a buzzing -in his head and the acute agony of his -broken arm. -</p> - -<p> -Anon he would utter a feeble shout for -'help,' but his own voice seemed to return -to him; beyond the walls that enclosed him -it would not go. He knew that there are -situations in life incident to misery and -painful excitement, when the human machinery -by the rapidity of mental action is worn -out sooner than its alloted time, and he -began to consider how long it was possible -to exist without food or water. -</p> - -<p> -Wearily, agonisingly the hours dragged on. -</p> - -<p> -By this time he was certain that night -had passed and day had come again; and -what must the thoughts of his people be? -Inquiries and searches would be made he -knew, but who would ever dream of -searching for him where he was <i>then</i>. -</p> - -<p> -He had not yet begun to suffer from -hunger, but he had a considerable thirst, -and hunger would come too. -</p> - -<p> -He thought of all he had read of the -endurance of men on rafts and in open -boats at sea; of entombed miners buried -deep in the bowels of the earth, and his -hair seemed to bristle up at the -recollections. Hunger, thirst, and an unknown -death—or death at such craven hands. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, God,' he moaned, 'will aid never—never come?' -</p> - -<p> -In that gruesome place and time there -occurred to him—ghastly memory!—thoughts -of the unknown and forgotten -dead whose matted bones had been found -in it by antiquarian explorers, as he had -mentioned to Holcroft—the remains of -unfortunate creatures flung in there by his -forefathers. -</p> - -<p> -Could it be that this unlooked-for fate -of his was to be a species of expiation for -them? And was he to die now by this -death, when life had become to him so much -dearer than ever? -</p> - -<p> -If his disappearance remained utterly -unaccounted for, and his death became—as -of course it would be—a thing of the -past, and forgotten even by those to whom -he was dear, might not Hawke Holcroft -regain such influence as he had ever -possessed over Olive and make her his own? -She would be free then; there would be no -obstacle, and no other rendering of the -will necessary, now that <i>he</i> was removed. -</p> - -<p> -Never again to see her face or the faces -of those he loved and who loved him so; -to die a rat's death, within arm's length of -them almost! Could his ancestor have -foreseen, when he formed this infernal trap, -that one of his own race was to perish -therein, and thus! -</p> - -<p> -After a time, amid all this tangle of -terrible thoughts, he began to forget where -he was; his senses partly left him; he -believed himself to be with the regiment—the -Black Watch, with their dark tartans -and historic crimson plumes; he heard the -crash of the drums, the braying of the -pipes, and saw many familiar faces around -him, those of Cameron and Carslogie -among others. Now the regiment was -going into action; he saw the line forming, -the eyes of the men lighting grimly up as -they loaded, and the sunshine flashed upon -the ridges of levelled steel. The dream -seemed a palpable one, and, with a shout -louder than he thought he could utter, he -called upon them to follow him in the -charge! -</p> - -<p> -His own cry awoke or roused him; the -glorious vision of the charging line melted -into opaque darkness, and now Allan found -himself weaker than ever. He thought all -was nearly over with him now. He turned -his thoughts to prayer, ere it might be too -late, and from pondering on release and -vengeance and the things of this life, he -began to think, as his powers ebbed, of the -life to come. -</p> - -<p> -He felt that he must resign himself to -the inevitable, and to die—to die there -after all, and at last he became totally -insensible. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VI. -<br /><br /> -CEAD MILLE MALOCH! -</h3> - -<p> -The shout uttered by Allan in his delirium -had not been uttered in vain. -</p> - -<p> -It chanced that Mr. Tappleton, the -silver-haired old butler, who had been -custodier of the wine binns and the massive -old plate in its iron-bound chest, since -the present Lord Aberfeldie was a baby in -long clothes, had entered his dusty and -cobwebbed repositories, and was seeking -through their stone shelves for some fine -old crusted port of a peculiar vintage, -kept alone for the use of his master and -himself, when the cry of Allan and some -other strange sounds reached his ears, as he -thought, and seriously startled him. -</p> - -<p> -We say he thought, for the recess of his -wine binns was an unlikely place to hear -any other sound than that made by a scared -rat. -</p> - -<p> -It was now the dead, dull silence of -midnight, when the sounds that are -unknown amid the buzz of mid-day life are -heard, and seem so oddly, so preternaturally -loud and strange—a crack in a door -panel or wainscot, the tap of a moth against -the window-panes, distant noises that come -we know not how or from what on the still -damp air. -</p> - -<p> -In a country house at night there is -usually a solemn stillness that is painful -and oppressive to the wakeful; and it was -amidst this silence, the cry—for a human -cry it was—reached the butler's startled ear. -</p> - -<p> -But whence had it come? Out of the -stone wall, or from the ground beneath, or -from the throat of a raven in one of the -great chimneys of the old house? -</p> - -<p> -'Impossible!' thought Tappleton; 'it -was the voice of a man—or a ghost.' -</p> - -<p> -At the latter idea he closed the wine-binn -door, and retired with precipitation to -his cosy room, and thought the matter -over as he stirred and sipped his hot -whisky toddy, but feeling ever and anon -that wild throbbing of the heart, and 'that -electric chill and rising of the hair which -accompanies supernatural panic.' -</p> - -<p> -The old man had a most uncomfortable -feeling about the voice he had heard, and -its strangely muffled sound seemed to come -in fancy to his ear again and again; and -now he, not unnaturally, began to associate -it with the mysterious disappearance of -Allan, the Master. -</p> - -<p> -With earliest dawn he betook himself to -his wine cellar again, and felt that he was -a bolder man in daylight than in the gloom -of midnight; but 'most men are,' says -Charles Dickens; yet when an unmistakable -moan or two reached his ears, his fear -of the supernatural so nearly gained the -ascendancy that he was about to take to -flight again. -</p> - -<p> -However he paused, while his old heart -beat painfully, and began to think of what -adjoined his cellars, and at once there -flashed upon his memory the locality of the -horrible old vault; for the butler knew all -the 'outs and ins' of Dundargue as well as -if he had built it. -</p> - -<p> -In the course of modern alterations -and repairs a portion of the originally -enormous wall of the vault had been -thinned and cut away. There were crannies -in the masonry, and it was through these -the voice of the imprisoned had reached -the butler during his casual visit to his -cellar. -</p> - -<p> -'Some one is there. Good Heavens! if -it should be the Master—the Master after -a'!' exclaimed Tappleton; and, quick as his -old legs could carry him, he rushed up -stairs, through the picture-gallery, along -the arched corridor, and reached at last -the oak trap-door; but when he saw it, -with its great iron hasp over the rusted -staple, hope died away, and his soul sank -within him. -</p> - -<p> -Loth to linger in a place where, as we -have stated, superstition believed that -those who did so, had a creeping sense of -having near them shadowy forms and -intangible presences, he was on the point of -turning away, when, controlling his silly -fears, he thought he might as well pursue -his investigations further. -</p> - -<p> -He raised the trap-door, and almost -immediately a voice ascended to his ear from -the darkness below. He peered down, but -could see nothing. -</p> - -<p> -'Wha is there—wha spoke?' asked the -butler. -</p> - -<p> -'I—I, the Master,' replied the weak -voice of Allan Graham. -</p> - -<p> -'You, sir—heaven be gude tae us! You -sir! hoo in God's name cam' ye to be doon -there?' cried Tappleton, in mingled joy, -horror, and great perplexity. -</p> - -<p> -'Summon help—there's a good old -fellow; get me out, and then you will know -all—quick, Tappleton, or—or I shall not -last much longer,' replied Allan, faintly, -and at intervals, in a voice so low that his -last words seemed to die away, while Tappleton -rushed off as fast as his years would -permit, to seek Lord Aberfeldie and alarm -the whole household, which he did very -effectually by a sudden and furious application -to the great house-bell, causing a -very general idea of fire, and bringing all -from their rooms in various kinds of -<i>déshabille</i> at that early hour of the morning. -</p> - -<p> -'The Master's found—the Master's -found!' he kept shouting on every hand. -</p> - -<p> -'Where—where?' asked twenty voices. -</p> - -<p> -'Ay, ye may weel ask <i>whar</i>,' was the -tantalizing response. -</p> - -<p> -In the breast of Lord Aberfeldie and all -his household incredulity at first, and then -profound astonishment, reigned for a time -on the butler making himself understood, -and all hastened to the scene of his -discovery. -</p> - -<p> -'The Master—the Master down there,' -muttered the servants, looking inquiringly -in each other's faces. 'How came such a -thing to pass?' -</p> - -<p> -They jostled and impeded each other; -but Lord Aberfeldie's authority and -soldier-like promptitude soon defined a line -of action. -</p> - -<p> -'Lights—lights and ropes; look alive, -men!' he exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -These requisites were soon brought. -</p> - -<p> -'Lower away—take courage—we'll soon -have you out,' exclaimed his father. 'Tie -the ropes tightly round you.' -</p> - -<p> -Allan, in a faint voice, made them aware -that this was impossible, as his left arm -was broken, tidings which added -commiseration and grief to the blank -amazement of Olive, Eveline, and his mother. -</p> - -<p> -'Who will go down?' asked Lord Aberfeldie, -looking around him. -</p> - -<p> -'I—and I—and I!' -</p> - -<p> -Every man in the house was ready to -descend, but Angus Glas, the active young -deerstalker, slid down the rope with a -lanthorn in his hand, followed by the -prayer of Olive, who would not be kept -back, her eyes wild, her now pale lips apart, -her sweet face blanched, and a strange -stiffness in all her usually lithe limbs. -</p> - -<p> -Pale as death, his face plastered with -dried blood—blood that had flowed from a -contusion in his head—livid and helpless, -his left arm hanging limp as an empty -sleeve by his side, his eyes half closed, as -if unable to endure the glare of the day -after being so long in the dark, Allan was -brought up, and, on beholding him, the -exclamations of commiseration and -astonishment redoubled; and yet it could be -seen that he was almost past questioning, -and mounted grooms were instantly -despatched to summon all the medical aid of -the district. -</p> - -<p> -Had the butler's nocturnal visit to his -binns been twenty-four hours later, Allan -Graham must have perished, and his fate -might never have been known in his own -generation perhaps. -</p> - -<p> -The whole catastrophe seemed so strange, -unintelligible, unnatural, and harrowing -that the nerves of Lady Aberfeldie were -terribly shaken by it; so were those of her -daughter and Olive, and each needed all -the comfort and support the other could -give. -</p> - -<p> -Some wine, which he drank thirstily, -first revived the patient after he was -conveyed to his room. -</p> - -<p> -'How in the name of heaven, Allan, -came you to fall into that place?' asked his -father. -</p> - -<p> -'I did not fall in,' replied Allan, in a -species of husky whisper. -</p> - -<p> -'How then?' -</p> - -<p> -'Holcroft!' was all Allan could utter, -when the room seemed to swim round him -and he became insensible. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Aberfeldie knew not precisely -what to make of the reply, but suspicion -gave him a certain clue to what he thought -had happened, and the same idea seemed -to occur to young Angus, the gillie, who -was assisting to undress his master and -put him to bed, for his eyes gleamed under -their shaggy brows, and he could only -mutter from time to time, -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Cead mille maloch!</i>' -</p> - -<p> -A malediction in which Lord Aberfeldie -heartily concurred. -</p> - -<p> -When ultimately the Peer learned all -that had transpired, the incident of the -cheque he had so innocently and generously -given Holcroft was completely forgotten. -He felt only rage, mingled with utter -stupefaction, that a man could act so -basely as his recent guest had done. It was -altogether out of his calculation and -experience of human life in every way. -</p> - -<p> -'But what is to be done now—to search -out and punish this malignant scoundrel?' -he exclaimed; while Lady Aberfeldie, all -her motherly feelings outraged, was for -raising fire and sword, and letting loose -all the terrors of the law on Holcroft's -head. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Aberfeldie, however, after a time -thought differently. He had a horror of -publicity, of newspaper gossip and scandals, -of making his honoured and ancestral -home and the affairs of his family a <i>point -d'appui</i>, as he said, for such things—a -world's wonder, even for a time; and thus -he declined to attempt to punish Holcroft -for an outrage none had seen him commit. -</p> - -<p> -He would leave that to the course of -events, and to Time, the avenger. -</p> - -<p> -More than all, the name of Olive -Raymond might crop up in the unseemly -matter. -</p> - -<p> -'His father was a brave, good fellow, -and my dearest friend!' said Lord Aberfeldie -sadly; 'how comes his son to be such -an utter villain? He has drawn his evil -tendencies from some past generation; it is -said that such a kind of poison is at times -transmitted in the blood, and that no human -being can truly value the resistance of sin -or folly.' -</p> - -<p> -But Lady Aberfeldie was stormy, and -declined to be pacified. -</p> - -<p> -'We have the future to think of,' said -her husband again; 'evil tongues to guard -against for the sake of Olive, our whole -family, and my old comrade the General, -who is now in his grave—the father of that -foul ingrate.' -</p> - -<p> -Thus it was that no mention of the -affair was made by the daily prints, to the -surprise, certainly, and perhaps the relief, of -Holcroft's mind. -</p> - -<p> -'Say no more on this subject, Eveline,' -said Lord Aberfeldie, as he sought to soothe -his wife. 'Gladly would I forget that we -had ever sheltered at Dundargue a guest -so degrading in character; gladly would I -forget as soon as possible—if it be -possible—the hours of intense suffering we have -undergone, more than all that Allan must -have undergone in that horrible place, and -yet under his own roof!' -</p> - -<p> -Many a silent and reproachful tear Olive -shed in secret, as she knew, in the recent -past time, how much her pride, petulance, -and suspicion had done to further jealousy -and resentment in the mind of Holcroft -against her cousin; and she felt that too -probably she had caused all this. -</p> - -<p> -But Holcroft was a bankrupt and a -blackleg now, and never more, at London -or anywhere else, she thought, could he -cross <i>her</i> path again. Till now she never -believed that the world could contain a -man so utterly unprincipled, so thoroughly -base! -</p> - -<p> -The household servants supposed that -the Master had fallen into that gruesome -vault by accident, and they were allowed -to adopt the idea. -</p> - -<p> -'But who closed the trap and dropped -the hasp over the staple?' thought old -Tappleton; yet eventually he allowed himself -to be talked into the idea that he had -made a mistake in that matter. -</p> - -<p> -Allan lay long ill and delirious after all he -had undergone; but when it was announced -that he was past danger, great was -the rejoicing of all the servants and the -household at Dundargue, for all loved the -Master well, and were faithfully attached -to the family by ties of residence and -clanship, even in this Victorian age. 'The -devoted loyalty of the clansmen to their -chiefs existed undiminished for generations -after the system of clan government was -abolished in 1746,' said the <i>Standard</i> -newspaper recently; 'and it would be wholly -erroneous to contend, <i>even now</i>, that the -peculiar affection between the people and -their chief, altogether different in nature -and degree from any relationship known -in a Saxon community, has died away.' -</p> - -<p> -But the family of Aberfeldie had not -seen the last of Mr. Hawke Holcroft. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VII. -<br /><br /> -LOVERS. -</h3> - -<p> -The early days of the spring subsequent to -the events we have narrated, found the -Aberfeldie family located at Maviswood, a -handsome modern villa to the west of -Edinburgh, whither they had removed from -Dundargue, that Allan, on whom a kind of -protracted illness had fallen, might avail -himself of the great medical skill which is -always to be found in the Scottish Metropolis. -</p> - -<p> -By what means Allan was discovered -and got out of the vault into which he had -been flung, and, as Hawke Holcroft hoped, -was entombed for ever, the latter never -knew, from the plan adopted by the family, -but the public prints had informed him -more than once, that 'the Master of -Aberfeldie had met with an accident—a -fall—from the effects of which he was slowly -recovering; wounds received when on -service with the Black Watch retarding his -progress to health.' -</p> - -<p> -Evan Cameron, Carslogie, and others of -the regiment, then in the Castle of -Edinburgh, heard of Allan's affair or illness in -a vague way, as Lord Aberfeldie shrunk -from all gossip, publicity and surmise; -and the first-named learned that Eveline's -marriage had been delayed in consequence -of that illness, chiefly through a letter -written to him by Olive, at Allan's request. -</p> - -<p> -So the early days of spring were passing -on, and no particular change had taken -place in the relative positions of our -characters since we last saw them at Dundargue. -</p> - -<p> -Eveline was alone one afternoon in a -room at Maviswood—a room of vast -proportions. The ceiling was divided into -deep panels of oak colour; a dado of dead -gold tint was carried round the walls to -within eight feet of the cornice, and the -chairs and ottomans were upholstered in -blue maroquin leather, studded with -elaborate gilt nails. The hangings were -blue, with yellow borders, lining and -tassels; great china bowls, full of -conservatory flowers, stood on ornate tables and -pedestals, within the recess of a great -triple bay window, beyond which spread -away southward the lovely landscape that -is bounded by the Pentlands. -</p> - -<p> -Spring is a lovely and joyous season -everywhere, but nowhere is it lovelier than -in the fertile Lothians; and nowhere may -the eye rest upon a more varied and -beautiful landscape than that which spreads -from the southern slope of Corstorphine's -wooded crags to the base of the green -and undulating Pentlands, the highest -summits of which range from sixteen -hundred to nearly nineteen hundred feet. -</p> - -<p> -There are corn-fields teeming with fertility, -rows of stately trees, pretty cottages, -stately white manor houses, and cosy -farms embosomed among old woods and -orchards; the picturesque rocks of wooded -Craiglockhart, wherein the kites and -kestrels build their nests; the rich alluvial -land, where for ages a great loch once -spread its waters; the quaint old village -church, on the spire of which the red -sunset loves to linger; and westward the -Queen of the North, in all the glory of -castled rock, and hill and crag, spire, -tower, and countless terraces; and on all -of these the wistful eyes of Eveline -Grahame were wandering dreamily. -</p> - -<p> -A golden glory was cast along the -eastern slopes, the fleecy clouds were every -moment assuming new forms and lovelier -colours; the woods were budding forth; -the Leith and its tiny tributaries were -brawling along as if their waters had no -time to toy with the brown pebbles. -Seated, at times, sideways on their horses, -the happy ploughboys were already going -home from their labours. The early-yeaned -lambs were frisking about the ewes, -and cloud and sunshine seemed to chase -each other over the tender grass, where -the wild white gowan was opening its -petals, and old folks were remembering -that 'a peck o' March dust was worth the -ransom o' a king.' -</p> - -<p> -Of late, Eveline's bursts of girlish -merriment had been few and far between. She -was fretful—unusually so for a girl who -by nature was so sweet and gentle, and at -the mere mention of the name of Sir -Paget—to whom she felt herself doomed, as it -were, or allotted—she became more fretful, -silent, and abstracted. -</p> - -<p> -She shrank from smiling people, turned -her back upon inquisitive ones, and often -was found to answer briefly and beside the -point. -</p> - -<p> -In short, the pretty Eveline's heart or -mind was quite unhinged. -</p> - -<p> -The tenth day of her residence at Maviswood -was creeping slowly on, and she was -pondering, full of thought, alone in that -stately room, when a servant startled her -by announcing and ushering in 'Mr. Evan -Cameron,' and, though her mind was full -of him—of the evening of the carpet-dance -at Dundargue, and the hour of joy in the -half-lit corridor, a kind of gasp escaped her -as she rose from her seat to receive him. -</p> - -<p> -But why should he not call, reason -suggested to her. -</p> - -<p> -The Grahams had been for ten days, we -have said, at Maviswood; and Cameron, -who had been counting every hour of those -ten days, and watching the villa with his -field-glass from his quarters in the distant -castle, had now ventured to make an -afternoon walk, and found, beyond his -hopes, that Eveline was alone. -</p> - -<p> -Allan and Olive were out together in a -pony-phaeton; Lord and Lady Aberfeldie -were he cared not where; anyway, they -were absent too. -</p> - -<p> -Olive, feeling that she was in some way -responsible, by her past thoughtlessness, -petulance, and flirting with the daring and -unworthy Holcroft, for much that had -befallen Allan, now 'waited on him hand -and foot,' as the old nurse Nannie phrased -it. She was with him from hour to hour, -and, though their marriage was delayed, -how happy they seemed to be! -</p> - -<p> -Fearing interruption as before, Cameron, -too tender and true not to be a timid lover, -found a difficulty just then in taking up -the thread of the old story, and they stood -in the bay-window talking commonplaces, -while heart was speaking to heart and eye -to eye. But 'what is speaking or hearing -when heart wells into heart?' -</p> - -<p> -Cameron heard all she chose then to tell -him about Allan's 'accident,' the -bewilderment and alarm of the family, and so -forth. Many friends were spoken of, but Sir -Paget was of course referred to by neither. -</p> - -<p> -Eveline, though so young, had the frank -and perfect air of repose in her manner -that came of gentle breeding, and made -her seem older than she was, but gave an -assurance that whatever she said, or -whatever she did, was said and done in the -right way. Without coquetry, her manner -was full of simple fascination; but it was -undeniably nervous now, for she read by -Cameron's softened voice, and in his -brightening eye, the clear necessity for -something else than common-place talk, -when he discovered by a casual remark that -Lord and Lady Aberfeldie were not in the -house. -</p> - -<p> -Eveline felt that she had given herself -to Evan, and that the tenor of their -interview in the corridor amounted tacitly to -an engagement. -</p> - -<p> -An engagement! But to what end? -It all seemed but a dream, a delicious -dream, of which there was nothing to -remind her, not even a ring, a lock of hair, -or the tiniest note. -</p> - -<p> -Unlike Cameron, Eveline, while loving -him dearly, had, singular to say, no -thought of marriage with him in the -ordinary sense of the word; for, hemmed -round as she was, and destined as she was, -the idea was a hopeless one, judged from -her parents' point of view. She only felt, -poor girl, that she loved, and was full of -sad joy—if we may use the paradox—in -the belief that she was truly loved in -return. -</p> - -<p> -'How silent you have become,' she said, -in a low tone, after a nervous pause. -</p> - -<p> -'I know not what to say; but love has -no need of words, Eveline, nor needs he -many at any time,' he replied, drawing -closer to her. Then he took a conservatory -rose from a vase and exclaimed, -'Eveline darling, you love me well and -truly, don't you?' -</p> - -<p> -'Well and truly, you know, dear Evan,' -she replied, as his arm went round her, -and her head dropped on his shoulder. -'What need to ask me?' she whispered, in -a breathless voice. -</p> - -<p> -'Because I cannot hear the beloved -assurance too often.' He kissed her -tenderly, we cannot say how many times, nor -would it matter, while she lay passive in -his arms, and then he said, 'Shall we try -our fate with this rose?' -</p> - -<p> -'How?' -</p> - -<p> -'By plucking it, leaf by leaf, saying each -time "Lucky, Unlucky," till the last leaf -comes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Something <i>à la Marguerite</i>.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'No, decidedly no, dearest Evan.' -</p> - -<p> -'You are superstitious. Well, so am I.' -</p> - -<p> -'Thus an omen would only torment -us, and surely we have -enough—enough——' Tears choked her voice, -and she could only add, 'Trust, dearest -Evan, trust.' -</p> - -<p> -'In what, my darling?' -</p> - -<p> -'The great goodness of God.' -</p> - -<p> -The spell of a great love was on -both. Their lips met in a long and silent -kiss, and the rose fell at their feet between -them. -</p> - -<p> -A sound roused them—nay, startled -them. They had only time to separate -and affect a sudden interest in the artistic -effects produced by light and shadow on the -landscape, when Lord and Lady Aberfeldie -entered the room together, a pretty palpable -cloud of annoyance resting on the -brows of both as they politely, but far -from warmly, greeted the visitor. -</p> - -<p> -The peer, who had evidently been out -riding, appeared in a black morning coat -and white cords, whip in hand, and the -lady, who had been in the grounds, wore -her garden hat and shawl. She had seen -a visitor ride up to the door from a distant -part of the lawn, and had hurried home, -her heart foreboding truly who that visitor was. -</p> - -<p> -And now, while their hearts were vibrating -with tenderness, and with their lips -yet tremulously sensible of the sweetness -of kisses—the first kisses of a new and -early love—they had to talk enforced -commonplace—or, at least, Evan did so, while -Eveline remained silent—of the news of -the day, the expected plans of the ministry, -the probable despatch of a fleet to -Egyptian waters, of the chances of an army -following it, of Arabi Pasha and the Khedive, -the plot formed by the Circassian officers, -and so forth, till it was time for the -lingering Cameron to resume his hat and -depart at last. -</p> - -<p> -Cameron tried to ignore that which, -under other and more prosperous -circumstances, would have galled and roused his -haughty Highland spirit—Lord Aberfeldie's -coldness of manner when he spoke -even of the regiment, and how certainly it -would go to the East, 'as the Black Watch, -thank God, was always in everything, and -always with honour,' while Evan's eyes -irresistibly wandered to the face of Eveline, -and memory went back to the twilighted -corridor at Dundargue. -</p> - -<p> -But so did the memory of my Lord Aberfeldie. -</p> - -<p> -The peer must have undergone a good -deal of training or "drilling" lately at the -hands of Lady Aberfeldie before he could -have brought himself to behave so coldly -to one he really liked so well as young -Stratherroch, and one of the Black Watch -especially; but then, perhaps, he was just -a little soured by the sequel to the hospitality -and kindness accorded to "the son of -his old friend," which son had contrived -by skilful lettering and figuring to add the -sum of eighty pounds to his cheque. -</p> - -<p> -As he bade them adieu Stratherroch -observed that Lord Aberfeldie did not ask -him to call again at Maviswood, and keenly -did he feel the omission and all it implied, -and with it came the conviction that he -must call no more! -</p> - -<p> -Slowly he rode back to his quarters full -of alternately exultant and bitter -thoughts—exultant that Eveline loved him and -would never cease to love him, but bitter -ones as he asked himself, to what end! -</p> - -<p> -If poor Cameron had vague and lingering -hopes to which he clung (and doubtless -he had)—hopes when seeing Eveline, of -proposing or hinting of meeting elsewhere -in the future—they were doomed to blight, -for no such bore fruition; and they had -now parted, and her father and mother -thought they should part, as mere friends, -who might meet casually in society, but at -all events had better <i>not</i> meet again. -</p> - -<p> -And Cameron feared that, so far as monetary -matters stood with him, his friend -Allan might endorse the same view of the -situation. -</p> - -<p> -'Stratherroch is a gentleman by birth -and position, but poor, miserably poor,' -said Lady Aberfeldie, after he had gone; -'so was that precious Mr. Holcroft, and -when a declension takes place in tone, -manner, and habits, as in his instance, we -never know where it may end,' she added -pointedly to Eveline. -</p> - -<p> -'How can you speak of the two men in -the same sentence!' exclaimed the peer, -with an asperity for which his daughter -thanked him in her aching heart. -</p> - -<p> -At anytime when Eveline looked -south-eastward from Maviswood she could see the -Castle of Edinburgh, and the towering -mass of the western barrack, with all its -windows shining in the sun, and she always -did so with tenderest interest, as she knew -that <i>he</i> was there; but, natheless, her -experience of at least one London season, -there was much of the guileless child and -mere girl in Eveline still, and she was -so sweet and soft, so pliable, and so -impressed with her mother's will and her -father's authority, that—that how could -Evan Cameron tell what pressure might -be brought to bear upon her, to make her -seem to transfer the allegiance of her heart -to another—even to the wealthy old -English baronet, Sir Paget Puddicombe? -</p> - -<p> -Alas! there was to be, in time, a pressure -that none could then foresee. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VIII. -<br /><br /> -AT MAVISWOOD. -</h3> - -<p> -The reports which Mr. Hawke Holcroft—spinning -out his precarious existence by -skill with the billiard cue, cards, and the -betting ring—heard concerning the health -of his intended victim, one whom he still -absurdly and grotesquely deemed his -successful rival, were undoubtedly true. -</p> - -<p> -With all his natural strength. Allan -Graham recovered but slowly from all he -had undergone, and the many hours he had -lingered in that vault with his fractured -limb unset, together with the effect of -certain sabre wounds received when he served -in India, retarded his progress to restoration; -but amid his protracted convalescence -how sweet it was, as the pleasant days of -sunny spring stole on at Maviswood, to have -the society, the hourly care and attendance -of Olive, in whom he was always, he thought, -discovering some new charm of mind or -grace of manner, with much soft -tenderness of heart and hand. -</p> - -<p> -Thus, twice—once in India and again -at home—rescued, as it were, from the -verge of death, he had learned the sweetness -of life, and that, whatever its sufferings -and sorrows may be, what a priceless -gift it is—a reflection that never occurred -to him when going under fire, or leading -a line of Highlanders in their headlong -charge. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Aberfeldie was content and happy; -Evan Cameron seemed now a banished -man; even Allan never spoke of him, and -the progress of matters between the -cousins proved all she could desire. -</p> - -<p> -'Nothing could be more fortunate, dearest -Olive, than the attachment which now -subsists between you and Allan; it fulfils -all your father's fondest wishes,' said she, -as she met them one day in the garden, -slowly promenading between the flowerbeds, -Allan leaning, or affecting to do so, -on the soft, round arm of Olive. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, mother dear—I agree with you, -and also with Peter Simple,' replied Allan, -smiling. -</p> - -<p> -'In what?' -</p> - -<p> -'That the life of a man seems to consist -of getting into scrapes, and then getting -out of them again.' -</p> - -<p> -'And you forget now that I ever teased -and tormented you so, my poor Allan,' -said Olive, patting his rather pale cheek -with her pinky palm. -</p> - -<p> -'Of course I do, darling. I am not -much of a philosopher, but Balzac is right -in his view of human life—that it would -be intolerable without a vast amount of -forgetting.' -</p> - -<p> -'And forgiving, too, he might have -added,' said Olive, as she tendered her lips -playfully and poutingly for a kiss, which -he was not slow in according. -</p> - -<p> -Poor Eveline, as she watched this happy -pair daily under her eyes, sighed with -natural and irrepressible envy; she thought -of her own love for Evan Cameron—secret, -ignored, and so liable to excite maternal -scorn and bitterness, with paternal -reprehension, when it came on the <i>tapis</i>; while -even Allan, at all times so loving and so -brotherly, amid the great selfishness or -absorption of his own passion, seemed, as -she thought, to have withdrawn his -sympathy from her now. -</p> - -<p> -One circumstance she deemed most -fortunate—Parliament was sitting, and Sir -Paget Puddicombe was in London. -</p> - -<p> -It would seem, then, that between the -botheration of Ireland and the interests -of Egypt the affairs of Slough-cum-Sloggit—monetary, -municipal, and commercial—were -as likely to be forgotten and ignored -as if that quiet borough had actually been -an integral part of Scotland—a state of -matters not to be tolerated. So Sir Paget -was in his place at Westminster, jerking -his head and puffing out his chest more -than ever, and Eveline was freed for a -time from his presence, and the would-be -lover-like regard of his suspicious and -keenly-critical old eyes. -</p> - -<p> -And she knew not that almost daily, the -moment that he was free from duty or -parade was over, Evan, drawn by an irrepressible -craving and desire to be near her—to -see the roof under which she dwelt, -the windows through which she might -be looking, the trees under which she -might be walking, was always hovering in -the vicinity of Maviswood; while, by a -strange fatality, she, filled by a similar -desire, might be riding with her father, or -driving with her mother, through stately -George Street, along the magnificent -terrace of Princes Street, and other great -thoroughfares, looking eagerly, but in -vain, for a chance glimpse of him, and -perhaps a bow—a mere bow, and nothing -more. -</p> - -<p> -Circumstanced as they were, what more -could she look for? -</p> - -<p> -Twice only, and at long intervals, did -she see Evan, and on each occasion how -wildly did her loving heart beat as she -detected his well-known figure; but he saw -not her, as she rode slowly on by her -father's side, who, if he saw Evan on the -first occasion, steadily ignored the fact, -and stared up at the Castle ramparts, where -the sentinels of the Black Watch trod -slowly to and fro. -</p> - -<p> -Certainly Evan did not see her. He -was on the garden side of Princes Street -the wooded walk which somewhat resembles -a continental boulevard—in close -conversation with a young lady, who seemed -to listen to all he was saying with great -<i>empressement</i>. -</p> - -<p> -The second time she saw him was after -an interval of some days, in the same place, -at the same hour, and with the same fair -companion, to whom her father—thinking, -no doubt, to utilise the circumstance—drew -her attention somewhat pointedly. -</p> - -<p> -'Cameron <i>again</i>!' said he; 'our friend -seems to find other attractions in the -gardens than trees or spring flowers.' -</p> - -<p> -Eveline's heart beat painfully, and the -second episode gave her occasion for much -and rather harassing thought. Her father, -by this remark, showed that he had -observed Evan before; but who was the -latter's companion? -</p> - -<p> -Eveline blushed violently up to where -the brim of her smart riding-hat pressed -her bright brown hair upon her brow, and -down to where a stiff and snow-white -linen collar encircled her slender white -neck; then she grew very pale with -constrained emotion, which, fortunately, her -father did not detect. -</p> - -<p> -She did not speak, but pretended to -smile, with an effort of self-mastery, while -a lump seemed to rise in her slender -throat; for though the circumstance of -Evan, who was debarred from coming to -see her, being seen there again with the -same young lady might be a casualty, a -trivial coincidence, and quite explainable, -her pride was piqued and her affection -wounded. -</p> - -<p> -Still more were they piqued and -wounded when, some days after, as she was -seated in the carriage at the door of a -shop in which Lady Aberfeldie was giving -some orders, she saw this girl loitering in -the same spot, looking anxiously around -her, as if waiting for some one who did not -come, and whom Eveline's heart foreboded -could only be Evan Cameron! -</p> - -<p> -She snatched from the carriage-basket -or reticule a lorgnette, through which she -could see that the girl was more than -pretty, very pale, and though plainly yet -fashionably dressed, with an undoubtedly -ladylike air and bearing. -</p> - -<p> -If he was Evan she waited for, he did not -keep his appointment, for, after a time, the -stranger turned sadly, lingeringly away, -and disappeared. -</p> - -<p> -A dancing-man, a popular young fellow -like Evan Cameron, in one of the most -popular of Scottish regiments, could not -fail to have many lady friends in Edinburgh; -but to have been seen twice in the -same place, with the same girl, at the same -time, and apparently expected there a -<i>third</i> time, was a little peculiar, and apt -to cause Eveline to speculate upon it -unpleasantly. -</p> - -<p> -Was this companionship a matter of -daily occurrence? Or was he, amid the -enforced separation from herself, -beginning to replace her image by another -already—already? -</p> - -<p> -The tenderness of their last meeting, in -the bay-window at Maviswood, seemed to -preclude this cruel idea, and to the hope -that tenderness inspired, she clung most -lovingly; thus, as yet, she did not speak -of the matter to her cousin Olive, -who—full of her own love-affair and her -new-found happiness—might not have -sympathised with her as once she would have -done; and, to add to her trouble, in a -little time she would have her old admirer -beside her again, as the member for -Slough-cum-Sloggit was making arrangements -to pair off with another, and would -soon be able to leave London. -</p> - -<p> -However, some happiness was in store -for her still. -</p> - -<p> -Cameron, to do him justice, spent too -much of his spare time in hovering about -the vicinity of Maviswood not to be -rewarded. Thus, one clear, bright afternoon, -in a lovely and lonely green lane, where -the holly hedges grew close and darkly, -where the wood violets spread their velvet -leaves on the sunny banks, and where the -mavis and merle sang, they suddenly met -each other, as he came walking slowly -along on foot, leading his horse by the -bridle, which was flung over his arm. -</p> - -<p> -His heart was so full of her that, when -he met her suddenly face to face thus, he -scarcely evinced surprise, while tremulously -she put both her hands into -his. -</p> - -<p> -'Evan!' -</p> - -<p> -'My darling—at last—at last!' -</p> - -<p> -No eye was upon them there as his -arms went round her, and in the great joy -of seeing him, of meeting him thus, the two -occasions on which she had seen him with -another, promenading slowly under the -trees in Princes Street, were forgotten -and committed to oblivion; though ere -long they were to be roughly brought to -her memory. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Evan—such long looked-for—such -unexpected joy!' she exclaimed, as hand -in hand they gazed into each other's -eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'Joy indeed, my own one. I had begun -to fear we might never meet again; and I -shall not leave you now but with the -assurance that we shall meet as often as -we can till—till——' -</p> - -<p> -'When, Evan?' -</p> - -<p> -'The regiment marches—marches for -the East, as it is sure to do before long. -Eveline, you must be out in the garden, in -the grounds often; can I not meet you -there or here again?' -</p> - -<p> -She shook her head sadly, and looked at -him lovingly and imploringly. -</p> - -<p> -'The meetings in secret—without -permission—would be wrong, Evan,' said -she. -</p> - -<p> -'Permission—who will give it? Whom—what -have we to consult but our own -hearts?' he continued, passionately. 'We -may have but little time—less than we -reckon on now—for the interchange of love -and joy, my dear one; and meet me you -shall—you <i>must</i>,' he added, as he folded -her to his breast and covered her sweet -passive face with kisses, while something -of hostility and defiance at her whole -family and at Sir Paget welled up in his -heart. 'You will meet me again?' he -urged. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes,' she replied, in a scarcely audible -whisper. -</p> - -<p> -It could be no sin, no crime—if an -error—to meet one who loved her so well as -Evan did, and whom she loved so dearly -too. It could not harm her elderly adorer, -from whose image just then she shrank -with intense loathing; and, if it was a -wrong against her parents, surely they -were in error to coerce her, she thought. -</p> - -<p> -On the other hand, the temptation was -great; the joy of meeting Evan would end -sadly and bitterly when, as he said, the -regiment departed, and after that they -might never see each other more! -</p> - -<p> -'Stolen waters are sweet, and bread -eaten in secret is pleasant,' say the -Scriptures; and not less sweet and pleasant were -the interviews that might be stolen thus -in a green and lonely lane. -</p> - -<p> -'God help me and direct me!' thought -the girl, as she nestled her face in -Cameron's neck, and, yielding to the natural -impulses of her own heart, promised to -meet him again and again, when time and -opportunity served; and they did so in the -lane between the holly hedges, by the -rural woodland road that deep between -the hills, leads to Ravelston Quarry and -haunted Craigcrook; and at times near -the old church, where the buried Forresters -lie under their altar tombs with shield on -arm and sword at side; and as the days -went on each meeting—as it seemed to -take place without suspicion or discovery—served -to cement their hearts together -more and more. -</p> - -<p> -But once, when Evan was riding home -in the dusk in the vicinity of Maviswood, -he passed a wayfarer afoot, in whose face -he thought he recognised—nay, was certain -he saw—the features of Holcroft. -</p> - -<p> -'Holcroft!' thought Evan; 'a man to -guard against, by Jove. What can <i>he</i> be -about in this neighbourhood—what but -mischief?' -</p> - -<p> -He wheeled his horse round, but the -man he had seen, had stepped over a stile -and disappeared. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER IX. -<br /><br /> -'ALICE!' -</h3> - -<p> -My Lady Aberfeldie was all unconscious -of the little romance that had been going -on for some weeks past in the green lanes -and wooded paths near Maviswood; while -Eveline seemed now but to live for the -purpose of meeting Evan Cameron, and -her loving heart and busy little head were -full of cunning schemes and contrivances -to escape detection and achieve their -meetings, which now seemed to make the whole -sense of her existence; and when not with -Evan, or if they failed (which was seldom) -to see each other, even for a few minutes, -her manner became abstracted and triste. -</p> - -<p> -But a rude awakening from her joyous -dreams was at hand, and certain past -events that seemed trivial in themselves -were doomed to be recalled to her with a -new and terrible significance! -</p> - -<p> -They had one more than usually tender -meeting and tender parting, because Sir -Paget Puddicombe—the <i>bête noir</i>, the -bugbear of both—was certainly coming -to Maviswood, and Eveline was weeping -bitterly. -</p> - -<p> -'Take courage—take courage, my darling,' -said Evan, as he kissed the tears -from her eyes and strained her to his -breast before he leaped on his horse; 'for -my sake and your own have strength to -resist, and all may yet be well—for my -sake and your own, dearest Alice,' he -added, with quivering lips, and was gone. -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Alice!</i>' -</p> - -<p> -Another's name uttered by his lips -involuntarily while his heart seemed to be -teeming with tenderness for herself—uttered -in that moment of supreme sorrow, -passion, and endearment—escaped him -mechanically, as it were, yet too evidently -by use and wont! -</p> - -<p> -What did it mean—what could it mean, -but one thing? -</p> - -<p> -Her heart stood still for a moment and -then beat wildly; she did not hear the -noise of his horse's hoofs dying away in -the distance, nor did she see his lessening -figure, for the powers of hearing and of -vision seemed to fail her. -</p> - -<p> -She had received a cruel and terrible -shock. Had she heard aright, or was it -all a delusion of her ear, yet she repeated -to herself with pallid face and quivering -lips the word 'Alice!' while memory flashed -back to the girl she had seen thrice—twice -with Evan, and once evidently waiting -for him at what seemed their trysting-place. -</p> - -<p> -She remembered that the second time -she had seen them they were walking -silently together—full of their own -thoughts apparently—and making no -effort to entertain each other, and she had -read that it is only 'the nearest and -dearest' of kinships—the closest and sweetest -of human intimacies that could explain -such "wordless proximity." Strangers, -acquaintances, when thrown together <i>must</i> -politely talk; brother and sister, husband -and wife, may be confidently, blessedly -silent!' -</p> - -<p> -She remembered now, with ready suspicion, -that, when she and Evan first met -suddenly afterwards, he scarcely evinced -surprise. We have said that it was -because his heart was full of her image, but -this idea, this hope, did not occur to -Eveline then—her mind was a chaos. -</p> - -<p> -How she got through the remainder of -that day she never knew; she had but one -wish: to shun her mother's eye. To -seclude herself in her own room would -attract attention; thus she remained in the -drawing-room and affected to read. She -opened a book at the page and point -where she had last left off. -</p> - -<p> -Alas! it was beyond the power of books -to soothe or win her from herself now. -The Lethean power of the novelist had -departed, and her whole mind seemed out -of tune. -</p> - -<p> -She threw aside the volume and took up -another, but a cry escaped her as it fell -from her hands. It was Bulwer's 'Alice, -or the Mysteries;' the name seemed to -enter her heart like a knife, and she rushed -away to her room. -</p> - -<p> -The dressing-bell for dinner, when it -rang, found her very pale, and wrestling, -as it were, with a strange and unusual -pain that was eating its way into her -heart. -</p> - -<p> -She bathed her face again and again, -but failed to hide the dark shadows under -her eyes or the inflammation of their -delicate lids. -</p> - -<p> -And at dinner-time that evening an -additional stab was given to her in the most -casual and unexpected way. Her father -had brought from his club to Maviswood -Carslogie of the Black Watch, a heedless -and thoughtless young fellow, of whom -she overheard Allan making some inquiries -concerning Cameron of Stratherroch. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Strath is jolly as a sandboy,' replied -Carslogie, 'but he has some mysterious -affair of the heart on just now.' -</p> - -<p> -'How?' -</p> - -<p> -'In the usual way. There is a pretty -girl he goes about with to all public places, -but introduces to no one. She is without -a chaperone, and no one knows whether -she is maid, wife, or widow; funny, by -Jove, isn't it?' -</p> - -<p> -Carslogie said this in a low voice to -Allan, yet not so low but that it reached -the ears of Eveline, who had some difficulty -in concealing her agitation. -</p> - -<p> -With instinctive tenderness Allan glanced -at his sister and skilfully changed the -subject to the then invariable topic of -Arabi Pasha and 'the coming row in -Egypt.' -</p> - -<p> -Times there were when she had thought -that she would condescend to go once -again to their trysting-place, and seek an -explanation; but now, after what Carslogie -had said, wild horses should not drag her -there! -</p> - -<p> -She would never upbraid Evan with his -baseness, never more would she go there; -she would simply tear his image out of her -heart, and let the matter end. But this -was easier to say than to achieve. -</p> - -<p> -Her soul seemed to have become numbed -within her—frozen, if we may use such -terms. -</p> - -<p> -Even in the matter of Sir Paget, she -was conscious now of feeling neither -repugnance nor ridicule, though she felt a -little repentance at her opposition to the -wishes of her father and mother, and for -the duplicity of which she had been guilty -towards them in her love for an unworthy -object, and meeting him in secret, as if -she had been a sewing-girl or waiting-maid, -and not the daughter of a peer, and -putting herself, perhaps, in an equivocal -position. -</p> - -<p> -She confided in Olive; otherwise her -heart, she thought, would burst. -</p> - -<p> -'The heart is said to be "deceitful above -all things, and desperately wicked,"' said -Olive, 'but I must confess that this affair -passes my comprehension. He cannot be -in love with <i>two</i> at once; yet I have read -of such things. Forget him; you must do -that—at least. You endure too much, -Eveline; you believed in him too much, and, -I fear, hoped too much. Even friendship -has its limits; how much more so love.' -</p> - -<p> -'And but yesterday I was so happy—happy -in a love the end of which I could -not foresee!' wailed poor Eveline, on her -cousin's bosom. -</p> - -<p> -What was she like, this Alice? Her -rival—oh, disgrace! Fair or dark—she -remembered that she was pale and pretty. -But what did it matter, thought the now -crushed girl, as she tossed feverishly on -her pillow in the gloom and solitude of the -night, when even our thoughts seem to -assume distinct outlines that become sharp -and vivid. -</p> - -<p> -Night had passed—a new day dawned, -and how far, far off seemed yesterday! -The sun had risen in his glory; the blackbirds -were singing in the dew-laden shrubberies -of Maviswood; and the pale mists -were clearing off Torduff and Kirkyetton -Craig, the highest summits of the lovely -Pentlands. -</p> - -<p> -It was late ere Eveline had wept herself -to sleep; but to her it seemed as if she had -not slept at all. Thus it was proportionately -late when she awoke heavily to the -morning of a new day. -</p> - -<p> -She had given her whole soul with joy -to her hopeless love for Evan—hopeless, -but pure—though any happy end to it she -could not foresee; but this was a bitter -collapse she did not anticipate, and now -her 'occupation was gone.' -</p> - -<p> -Was she the same Eveline Graham who -but yesterday morning shook off sleep so -lightly, and rose fresh, strong, and full of -hope, with the conviction that her secret -lover was true to her and to this hopeless -passion? -</p> - -<p> -Her affectionate heart was crushed; her -self-esteem was in the dust; her proud head -lay low indeed; and for the first time in -her young life she had learned what it is to -be cut to the soul—to be completely humbled. -</p> - -<p> -And Alice—who and what was <i>she</i>? -</p> - -<p> -'And oh, Olive, how am I to meet -mamma?' was the first exclamation after -they had got rid of Mademoiselle Clairette. -</p> - -<p> -She knew she would have to join in the -conversation of the breakfast-table, when -all her vigilance would be requisite to -prevent her from pit-falls of suspicious silence -or confusion of manner, with the helpless -air and uncertain voice of one who seeks -to conceal a new and hitherto unknown -sorrow: and to undergo, with her sad, -white, humiliated face, her mother's critical -and observant eyes. -</p> - -<p> -If, in desperation, she did not act a part, -that watchful mother would be sure to -detect a change, and that there was -something wrong. -</p> - -<p> -Eveline knew well that she would soon -detect every flicker of her eyelashes, every -tremor of the heavy white lids, that would -droop in spite of her now; but luckily -Lady Aberfeldie was busy in her boudoir -with the housekeeper and Mr. Tappleton, -the butler, giving orders; for Sir Paget -Puddicombe would arrive ere long! -</p> - -<p> -Carslogie had gone back to Edinburgh, -of course, last night. He would be with -Evan Cameron this morning on parade and -so forth; would the latter question him -about his visit to Maviswood, about <i>her</i> -perhaps? But what did it matter now -whether he did so or did not? -Nothing—less than nothing! -</p> - -<p> -How long the hours seemed now when -they were empty—<i>quite</i> empty of all but -bitterness. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile days passed on, and Cameron -came, as was his wont, to the usual places -of meeting, but Eveline was never there. -</p> - -<p> -What had happened—how was she detained? -Had an illness come upon her? -His mind was a prey to the keenest anxiety, -which he was without the means of allaying. -He could not write to ask for any -explanation, neither could he call at -Maviswood after the somewhat studied coldness -of his last reception there by her father -and mother. -</p> - -<p> -At each place and spot where so lately -they had met and wandered, the thoughts -that found utterance there, and many a -tender caress came potently and poignantly -back to memory now. Where was she, -what doing, how engaged and with whom—in -sickness or in health?—he asked of -himself with endless iteration. -</p> - -<p> -Trivialities are often associated with the -greatest eventualities in our lives. Thus -long in the memory of Evan would his last -visit to one of these beloved spots be -associated with the shrill notes of a mavis -perched upon the topmost bough of a tree. -</p> - -<p> -Ignorant as yet of what he himself had -done, ignorant also of the mischief his -friend Carslogie had unintentionally done -him by retailing some mess-room gossip, -in the vagueness of his thoughts and ideas -of the whole situation, which we shall -ere-long unravel, Cameron was inclined to -attribute the total cessation of Eveline's -meetings with him to some mysterious -influence of Hawke Holcroft—if Holcroft it -was whom he saw in the dusk. -</p> - -<p> -From Carslogie he learned that 'she -was looking well and jolly,' as he phrased -it. When Allan rejoined he would hear -more of her, he hoped; but Allan's sick -leave was protracted from time to time, -and none seemed to know <i>when</i> he would -be with the regiment again. -</p> - -<p> -Once these parted lovers saw each other -but for a moment only! -</p> - -<p> -Accompanied by a groom, Eveline rode -at a canter past him on a lonely part of -the road near Maviswood, her eyes full of -unshed tears, her face pale with -resentment, and her veil in her teeth. -</p> - -<p> -Past him, as if he was a stranger! -</p> - -<p> -'Why stop to speak or expect an -explanation?' thought the girl. 'In this -world do not actions speak louder a -thousand times than words can ever do?' -</p> - -<p> -She was a Graham of Dundargue, and -would show him that she was not of the -kind of stuff that facile Amelias or patient -Griseldas are made! -</p> - -<p> -Yet to pass him by thus, cost her a -mighty effort, though to Eveline it seemed -that there was nothing left for her now -'but to wrestle valiantly with that pain -which, in the world's eye, degrades the -woman who smarts under it—the pain of -an unshared love.' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER X. -<br /><br /> -'THE MYSTERIES OF UDOLPHO.' -</h3> - -<p> -'Young Stratherroch seems to have -accepted the situation. He is much too -sharp and well-bred a man not to have -seen that he was—well—in the way rather,' -said Lady Aberfeldie to her husband one -afternoon. 'One thing is certain at least, -he has ceased to visit here.' -</p> - -<p> -'Dropped out of the hunt—yes,' assented -the peer, as he filled and lit his briar-root. -'Poor fellow! he was—or is—undoubtedly -fond of our little girl.' -</p> - -<p> -'Such fondness was folly in one so -poor; and now, as Sir Paget comes to-day, -I do not see why we should not have the -two marriages at once. I am most -anxious to have all this fuss ended and done -with.' -</p> - -<p> -'There are several deeds to draw and -so forth in the matter of Allan and Olive; -and as for Eveline she has not yet consented.' -</p> - -<p> -'She must do so now, I presume,' said -Lady Aberfeldie, impatiently wafting aside -with her white hand a cloud of smoke the -peer was creating. -</p> - -<p> -'Both marriages,' said he, reflectively; -'but how if the regiment goes on foreign -service—and the corps expects orders of -readiness daily, I understand?' -</p> - -<p> -'Allan can send in his papers.' -</p> - -<p> -'Impossible! You do not consider -what you say.' -</p> - -<p> -'He is not well enough to go abroad.' -</p> - -<p> -'He is too well to remain behind; and -if well enough to marry I fear that -F.M. the Commander-in-Chief will deem him -well enough to march.' -</p> - -<p> -'Anyway it will secure Olive's fortune -in the family.' -</p> - -<p> -'It is secured as it is by her father's -will so long as Allan is willing to consent; -but as our loving daughter-in-law, there -will be no necessity for the enforcement of -the clause that is so grotesque. As -regards Sir Paget and Eveline——' -</p> - -<p> -'Leave me to manage Eveline,' said -Lady Aberfeldie, bluntly and loftily. -</p> - -<p> -The result of her management was soon -apparent, though she knew not that -circumstances, of which she was as yet -unaware, were playing into her hands, and -would yet more completely do so. -</p> - -<p> -'Sir Paget, as you know, Eveline, will -be here to-day,' said she, with an arm -round her daughter's neck, 'and we—that -is, your papa and I—trust, child, that you -will receive him as you ought, and wear -the jewels he sent you.' -</p> - -<p> -Lady Aberfeldie used her softest yet -firmest voice as she spoke to Eveline, but -it sounded to the latter as the voice of -one who was a long, long way off. -</p> - -<p> -She made no immediate reply; but with -her hands tightly interlaced, as if thereby -she would quell emotion, seemed to be -gazing down at her nicely pointed little -foot that rested on a velvet fender-stool. -</p> - -<p> -'Why mope here, growing pale and -thin, for a thing without substance—a -dream—a shadow, Eveline; you understand me?' -</p> - -<p> -'A dream—a shadow, indeed, mamma!' -</p> - -<p> -'You hear me, child?' said her mother. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, mamma,' replied Eveline, who -seemed to shiver with cold as her mother -left her, but with a long backward glance -that had more of menace than entreaty -in it. -</p> - -<p> -'He never loved me,' Eveline was -thinking. 'I have given my heart for -nothing, and am now cast aside for -another, like a broken toy discarded by a -child. He dared to trifle with me—my -father's daughter! It is clear now that -he fancied, or merely pretended to be in -love with me, while all the time his heart -was given to—<i>Alice</i>!' -</p> - -<p> -And she would have been either more -or less than human, if with her just -indignation there did not mingle a certain -sentiment of revenge that bore her up in the -part she meant to act now; though she -shrank as yet from the conviction that, -when esteem dies, love dies with it. -</p> - -<p> -So that evening Eveline wore the suite -of jewels—such jewels as Bond Street -alone can furnish—and Sir Paget, as he -sat by her side, jerked his little bald head -about, in the exuberance of joy, and in a -way that was really alarming. -</p> - -<p> -Olive was looking radiantly beautiful, -in a brilliant dinner costume, with Allan's -Maltese suite of diamonds and pearls -sparkling on her neck and arms, which -Lady Aberfeldie had urged her to don in -honour of Sir Paget, and in defiance of a -<i>moue</i> and pitiful glance of Eveline, who -had no small difficulty in acquitting -herself at dinner in her new role of <i>fiancée</i>, -but nearly broke down when she heard -Sir Paget raise his voice and say to her -father something that he was not sorry he -might say with a clear conscience, and as -a matter-of-fact. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, by the way, Aberfeldie, when I -arrived at the rail way-station this morning -I witnessed a very tender leave-taking -between a young friend of yours and a -most charming girl—gad, the fellow has -taste—a girl whom he was seeing off, -to London, I presume, by the Flying -Scotsman, it was quite pathetic, by -Jove!' -</p> - -<p> -'A young friend of ours—who do you -mean, Sir Paget?' asked Lady Aberfeldie. -</p> - -<p> -'Cameron, of the Black Watch, whom I -had the pleasure of meeting at Dundargue—you -remember,' said Sir Paget, playing -with the stem of his champagne-glass, -and not daring to look at Eveline, whose -white hand he saw trembling as she toyed -with her grapes. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh—oh—indeed—and the young -lady——' -</p> - -<p> -'Had "Mrs. Cameron" painted on all -her luggage—great Indian overlands, some -of it.' -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Mrs. Cameron</i>,' repeated Lady Aberfeldie, -whose aristocratic face shone in spite -of herself at these tidings, while Lord -Aberfeldie looked flushed and perplexed, -and like Allan, who pitied his poor sister, -remained silent. -</p> - -<p> -This astounding intelligence was to poor -Eveline as 'the last straw' to the -over-laden camel; she betrayed no outward -emotion, though her heart and spirit were -completely broken down, for a phase of -duplicity which she could never have -conceived was now suddenly laid bare to -her. -</p> - -<p> -When, with her aunt and cousin, she -retired to the drawing-room, the latter -pressed her hand affectionately and caressingly, -while the former, too proud or too -prudent to refer to what they had just -heard so greatly to her satisfaction, sat in -a shady corner and slowly fanned herself -in silence with a great round feather -fan. -</p> - -<p> -An emotion of jealous spite at young -Cameron, with rivalry, passion, and -ambition to possess a young, beautiful, and -highly-born wife, all now inspired Sir -Paget, who, to do him justice in the -anecdote he had told, had told no more than -the truth, and, for the happiness of Evan -Cameron, we are sorry to say it. -</p> - -<p> -But though now permitting herself -quietly to drift with the stream of events, -and to become a tool in the hands of -others, it was impossible for Eveline, when -with Sir Paget in the grounds, or when -alone in the drawing-room, not to shrink -from his now privileged caresses and -attentions; thus once she shocked him by -saying, as she withdrew her hands from -his clasp, -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Sir Paget, do you really mean to -marry a woman who does not and never -can love you?' -</p> - -<p> -'Do not say "never can." How can we -know what the future may have for -me—for <i>us</i>, my dear girl?' -</p> - -<p> -'Who, indeed, save One!' sighed the -girl, wearily. -</p> - -<p> -'I would rather have half your heart -than the whole of any other woman's,' said -Sir Paget, gallantly, while recapturing her -hands, and jerking out his head in turtle -fashion. -</p> - -<p> -'My whole heart,' thought Eveline, 'is—oh, -no—was full of Evan, but can have -no vacant corner for any other, especially -such a man as this.' -</p> - -<p> -And even while she thought this she -shivered as if with cold, when in right of -his new position he caressed her. -</p> - -<p> -'How, with all their innate pride, papa -and mamma are content to abandon me to -this absurd little man Puddicombe, as they -do, passes my comprehension,' said she to -Olive. 'Puddicombe—such an absurd -name too,' she added, with a little laugh -that was hysterical; 'and what object can -the splendour of his settlements be to -them? They seem to ignore the fact that -the Grahams of Dundargue were barons of -the Scottish Parliament when the ancestors -of half the British peerage were hewers of -wood and drawers of water—peasantry -and artisans!' -</p> - -<p> -So in the bloom of her youth and -beauty, the time 'when the light that -surrounds us is all from within,' Eveline -Graham was to become a victim at the -altar after all—after all! -</p> - -<p> -And Cameron seemed to have prepared -the path for her, for, stunned by his too -apparent duplicity, she schooled herself for -the <i>rôle</i> of indifference to fate; but this -was chiefly by day, for often at night she -would lie where she had thrown herself, -across her bed, forgetting even to undress, -her tear-blotted face covered by her soft -arm, and so in the morning the wondering -and sympathising Clairette would find -her. -</p> - -<p> -June was creeping on now, with its -sunny, fragrant breath; there were white -and purple blossoms in the parterres of -the garden; the graceful laburnums were -dropping their golden petals in showers -over the rosebuds and green lawns that -were bordered by dark shining myrtles -and deep-tinted laurels and rhododendrons. -</p> - -<p> -From the fields came the rasping sound -made by the mower as he whetted his -scythe, before which the rich feathered -grass and the wild flowers are done to -death; elsewhere the joyous haymakers -were hard at work, and the dust of June -began to roll along the roads before the -wind in the sunshine. -</p> - -<p> -'June!' thought Eveline. 'Where will -the winter find me?' -</p> - -<p> -The preparations for her marriage were -hurried on with a rapidity that appalled -her; but, dear as the scheme was to Lady -Aberfeldie, a somewhat unexpected event -delayed that of Allan and Olive Raymond, -and gave the Aberfeldie family once more -something else to think of. -</p> - -<p> -One evening when all the others were in -Edinburgh save himself and Olive—for -Eveline's forthcoming marriage kept all -rather busy now—Allan, full of his own -happy thoughts, and the joy that would be -his ere long, was smoking in the grounds, -when he was startled by a shrill cry that -proceeded from an open window of the -house—a French window that opened to -the ground—and swift as light a man -dashed past him and disappeared among -the thick shrubberies. -</p> - -<p> -'A thief!' was Allan's first thought; -'but whose cry was that?' was his second. -</p> - -<p> -The face of the intruder, who passed -near him—a pale and familiar one, seen -just as Cameron had before seen it—seemed -to be that of Hawke Holcroft. -</p> - -<p> -'Impossible,' thought Allan, as he hurried -towards the house; but it was not until -he had further proofs that he became aware -that the face he had seen—the face of -ill-omen—was that of Holcroft! -</p> - -<p> -He hurried into the apartment through -the open window, and was horrified to find -Olive prostrate on the floor, with her arms -outspread, and in a fainting condition. -He raised her up and laid her on a sofa, -withdrawing the pillow from under her -head, and looked round for water to lave -her face and hands, one of which clutched -a pen. -</p> - -<p> -A large sealskin cigar case, with Rio -Hondo cigars in it—a case which he well -remembered to have seen in possession of -Holcroft—lay upon the floor. -</p> - -<p> -How came it there, unless the man he -saw was, beyond all doubt, Hawke Holcroft? -</p> - -<p> -Olive's cheque-book—for she had a bank -account of her own—lay open on her -davenport, and Allan's eye caught the -counterfoil of one, dated that very day, and -almost wet still, for £400. -</p> - -<p> -'Four hundred pounds!' he gasped, and -tried to tear open his necktie, while the -room swam round him. 'Oh, God! can it -be that she is playing fast and loose with -me and that double-dyed villain?' -</p> - -<p> -That she should have any intercourse, -verbal or written, with such a wretch -excited in Allan a gust of rage and bewilderment, -disgust, horror, and intense perplexity. -</p> - -<p> -Yet it might be all quite explainable—even -the cheque. -</p> - -<p> -She opened her eyes and closed them -again, and pathetically he besought her to -tell him what had happened, but could -elicit no reply. Her slender throat seemed -parched, as she failed to articulate. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Olive,' said he, 'if I alarm you, -forgive me. You know how I love you. -Why torture me by this silence—tell me -all—<i>what</i> has happened—<i>who</i> has been -here?' -</p> - -<p> -But he urged and pled in vain; her teeth -were clenched. -</p> - -<p> -'Is it some folly—some girlish imprudence? <i>what</i> -is it? Dear love, only tell me?' -</p> - -<p> -Still she was silent, and Allan's brows -knit darkly and ominously, while, in the -excited state of his nerves, he felt sharp -twinges in the arm that had been fractured, -and, when consciousness came partially -back to Olive, she covered her face with -her hands, and sobbed heavily and spasmodically. -</p> - -<p> -What had happened? Why was she so -suddenly cast down, hurled, as it were, -from the joy, rapture, and repose of an -hour ago, to the apparent agony and shame -of the present? -</p> - -<p> -Nothing could be elicited from her, and -the next day found her in a species of -hysterical fever, and in the hands of the -doctor. -</p> - -<p> -In a short time it was discovered that -her cheque—an open one—payable to -Mr. Hawke Holcroft, and duly endorsed by -that personage, had been presented and -cashed at a bank; yet no explanation could -be elicited from her about it. -</p> - -<p> -'She had on the ill-omened diamonds, -mother,' said Allan, interrogatively. 'How -was this?' -</p> - -<p> -'I lent them to her, as the bride of the -house, and doubtless she had been trying -them on when—when——' -</p> - -<p> -'This scoundrel thrust himself upon her -presence?' -</p> - -<p> -'I suppose so,' said Lady Aberfeldie, -weeping. -</p> - -<p> -'Evil always comes of these accursed -stones!' -</p> - -<p> -'It is simply outrageous,' said Lord -Aberfeldie, sternly and loftily, 'that even -the family of the most humble tradesman -should be haunted by a Frankenstein—a -swindler, and worse, like this—but that a -house like mine—the house of a peer of -the realm——' -</p> - -<p> -And his lordship in his indignation -paused as utterance failed him. -</p> - -<p> -'Mystery is involved here,' exclaimed -Lady Aberfeldie, 'and I dislike it intensely, -as vulgar and very bad style.' -</p> - -<p> -'By Jove, I should think so,' added -Allan, gloomily; 'but this affair, like -Cameron's marriage, beats the mysteries -of Udolpho!' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XI. -<br /><br /> -'GUP,' AND WHAT CAME OF IT, -</h3> - -<p> -And now, ere it is too late, to let a little -light on what must seem a mystery, and to -tell a story which Eveline was not to hear -until the fatal die was cast. -</p> - -<p> -'Dear Evan,' said a handsome girl, as -she interlaced her slender fingers on -Cameron's arm lovingly in one of the most -secluded walks of the Princes-Street -Gardens, and under the shadow of the -towering castle rock, 'I cannot bear to see you -looking so unhappy—what <i>is</i> the matter?' -</p> - -<p> -'Eveline Graham has ceased to meet -me. She is ill—or—or I know not what!' -</p> - -<p> -'Cannot you ascertain?' -</p> - -<p> -'No. I have no means of ascertaining; -moreover, only the other day she cut me.' -</p> - -<p> -'Cut you—passed you?' -</p> - -<p> -'Cut me dead!' -</p> - -<p> -'Surely that was bad in taste.' -</p> - -<p> -'And cruel too—so unlike her, Alice -darling, that I know not what to think.' -</p> - -<p> -'She has resolved to accept her rich old -baronet—that is all; and I shall hear all -about it when I am far away from you in -India. How strange,' added the girl, -dreamily, while a great, yet pensive, joy -lighted up her blue eyes, 'how strange to -think that I am still in Edinburgh, and so -far away from <i>him</i>, when there was a time -when I wondered if anyone in this world -was ever so happy as I, when dear stupid -Duncan asked me to be his wife! And oh, -Evan dear, but for you and your great -kindness to us, my heart must have broken -and I should never have seen Duncan -more!' -</p> - -<p> -The fair speaker was the Alice whose -name had unconsciously escaped Evan, as -his heart was full of a great love and pity -for her—the wife of his younger brother -Duncan, from whom she had been separated -in consequence of a foolish jealous -quarrel, and having been, through that, -sent home by him from India, had no other -friend in Europe to whom to turn for -succour and support than the kind-hearted, -but half-penniless Laird of Stratherroch, -who had at last effected an explanation -and reconciliation between them. -</p> - -<p> -When quartered in cantonments, in the -first year of their marriage, not far from -Hurdwar on the Ganges (where Allan got -the idol he gave to Olive) there seemed to -be no more loving and attached couple -than Duncan Cameron and his little wife -Alice, and both were prime favourites -with the garrison; he, for his fine bearing -which made him the pattern officer of his -regiment—a Bengal Infantry corps—his -skill in horsemanship, as a marksman and -pigsticker, and his general <i>bonhomie</i> and -good nature. She, for her beauty and -sweetness, her great abundance of animal -spirits, and a charming <i>espièglerie</i> that -made her the object of attention from all. -</p> - -<p> -Ladies were scarce in these cantonments -so far 'up country,' and thus Alice proved a -wonderful attraction to all the young subs -at the band-stand, or on the racecourse, -and elsewhere; and they hovered about -her rather more than Duncan Cameron -quite relished. -</p> - -<p> -She was a leading feature at all the -entertainments given by Sir Bevis Batardeau, -G.C.S.I., the brigadier, and his wife; and -indeed no ball, picnic, or dance was -deemed complete without the presence of Alice -Cameron. -</p> - -<p> -Now, Sir Bevis was a notorious old <i>roué</i>, -and the cause of much 'gup,' as scandal -or gossip is called in India. He was a -middle-aged man of fashion, grizzled and -rather bald, with a reddish nose and -wicked eyes, while Lady Batardeau, his senior -by a year or two, was a kind and motherly -woman, who loved Alice dearly; and 'gup' -of course asserted that the General did so -too, in a fashion of his own, and many -things were said that never reached as yet -the ears of Duncan Cameron. -</p> - -<p> -The latter was sent to some distance -from the cantonments on a particular duty, -and poor Alice was left to mope in her -bungalow alone. -</p> - -<p> -'I often thought,' she said, 'if anything -should ever separate us, I would die. The -fear smote me like a sword's point, Evan, -and the night Duncan left me a jackal -howled fearfully in the compound. Was -it ominous of evil? I fear so—for -separated terribly we were fated to be, through -no fault of mine.' -</p> - -<p> -These forebodings made her pass sleeplessly -the hot and breathless Indian nights -while hourly the cantonment <i>ghurries</i> were -clanged, and the jackals howled in the -prickly hedges, and the mosquitoes seemed -a thousand times more annoying—no -chowrie would whisk them out of the -muslin curtains; and her breakfast seemed so -insipid now, and Gunga Ram, the <i>khansa-man</i>, -or native butler, could find nothing -to tempt her appetite; yet Gunga, though, -like most Hindostanees, doubtful of the -virtue of every European woman, was -devoted to his own particular <i>mehm Sahib</i>. -</p> - -<p> -Every morning she had been wont to -watch at the open Venetian blinds of their -bungalow for the handsome figure of -Duncan returning from the early parade, while -the sun was yet on the verge of the -horizon; and every evening was spent together -in delicious idleness—riding on the -course, promenading by the band-stand, -or wandering among the groves where the -baubool breathes an exquisite perfume -from its bells of gold, as the oleander -does from its clusters of pink and white -blossoms, and where the lovely little -tailor-bird sews two leaves together and swings -in his sweet-scented nest from the bough -of some little tree. -</p> - -<p> -Hourly she longed for the return of -Duncan. -</p> - -<p> -She was a petted favourite with Lady -Batardeau, who, when calling on her one -day, found her asleep under the verandah -outside Cameron's bungalow on a long low -Indian arm-chair. -</p> - -<p> -Thinking how charming the girl-wife -looked, Lady Batardeau, in playful kindness, -slipped on one of her fingers a -rose-diamond ring, which had been in the past -time a gift to herself from Sir Bevis, when -she valued his gifts more than she had -reason to do now; and, having done this, -she went softly and laughingly away. -</p> - -<p> -To the joy of Alice, Cameron returned -suddenly while she was yet puzzling -herself to account for the presence of the -ring, and for a time, in the happiness of -their reunion, she forgot all about it, till -he, while toying with her pretty hands, -observed it on her finder. -</p> - -<p> -'A magnificent ring, Alice,' said he. -'Where did it come from?' -</p> - -<p> -'That is more than I can tell you.' -</p> - -<p> -'How?' he asked. -</p> - -<p> -'I found that it had been slipped on -my finger when I was asleep.' -</p> - -<p> -'By whom?' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot say, Duncan dear.' -</p> - -<p> -On examining the jewel he saw graven -on the inside the name of that notorious -old <i>roué</i> and Lothario, the brigadier! -</p> - -<p> -Lady Batardeau had left the cantonments -for awhile, and poor Alice could -give no explanation as to how the -mysterious ring with the name of Sir Bevis -thereon came to be on her finger. Duncan -loved her so trustfully, so utterly, that -doubt failed for a time to find a place in -his gallant heart; but 'gup' had playfully -asserted that the old brigadier immensely -admired young Mrs. Cameron—he recalled -some jests he had heard, and now the -poison they breathed was stealing upon -his senses, and his face grew white as -death. -</p> - -<p> -Duncan mistook the genuine confusion -of Alice for guilt—her dismay for dread -of detection, and the whole affair for a -feature in an intrigue. He knew how -keen and bitter was scandal in India, -and already he saw himself a source of -mockery and disgrace, and figuring, -perhaps, in the columns of the <i>Hurkara</i>! -</p> - -<p> -He saw it all now! He had been sent -on duty to a distance for some days, as he -believed out of his turn, and by the -express order of the brigadier. -</p> - -<p> -That circumstance had surprised him, -but he believed it was fully explained now -by finding the ring of Sir Bevis on his -wife's finger, and he became transported -with fury. Alice cowered for a time -beneath the expression she read in his face. -</p> - -<p> -Could it be possible, he thought, that -she was proving as one of the 'dead-sea -apples of life, which a mocking fate so -often throws in our lap, charming to the -imagination, but bitter to the sense?' -</p> - -<p> -'Duncan!' said Alice, softly and imploringly; -but he felt all the mute despair of -a broken heart, the agony of a shaken -faith, and he put her soft white hands -gently from him, as if he would never -seek them in this life again. -</p> - -<p> -He at once sought the presence of the -brigadier, who, on hearing what he had to -say, certainly—to do him justice—was -rather bewildered. -</p> - -<p> -'I beg leave, sir, to return to you this -ring,' said Duncan, tossing it contemptuously -on the table. -</p> - -<p> -'My ring—my wife's ring it was—' -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Was</i>—eh!' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Captain Cameron. Where did -you find it?' -</p> - -<p> -'Where you placed it, I doubt -not.' -</p> - -<p> -'I do not understand your tone and -manner, Captain Cameron; but I certainly -placed it on the finger——' -</p> - -<p> -'Of my wife,' said Duncan, hoarsely and -scornfully. 'I thank you for your kind -attention, but trust that it will end here -ere worse come of it. I am not a man to -be trifled with, Sir Bevis.' -</p> - -<p> -Now, Sir Bevis had no dislike to be -thought 'a gay Lothario, a sad dog, and -all that sort of thing,' so he actually -simpered provokingly, shrugged his shoulders -and said, deprecatingly, -</p> - -<p> -'Really, you wrong Mrs. Cameron.' -</p> - -<p> -'She has deceived me!' exclaimed -Duncan, furiously. -</p> - -<p> -'If a woman can't deceive her own -husband, <i>whom</i> may she deceive!' asked -the unwise brigadier. -</p> - -<p> -'In the days of the pistol this matter -would not have ended here.' -</p> - -<p> -'Come, come, don't let you and I fall to -carte and tierce in this fashion,' said the -general; 'it may be explainable——' -</p> - -<p> -'I want no explanations!' -</p> - -<p> -'As you please. It seems there is a -little romance in most lives——' -</p> - -<p> -'With your grey hairs you should have -outlived all that, I think.' -</p> - -<p> -Now his years proved a sore point with -old Sir Bevis, and he became inflamed -with anger; but, ere he could retort, -Duncan had jerked his sword under his left -arm and swept from his presence with a -rather withering expression in his face, -and that very evening saw Alice in the -train for Delhi, <i>en route</i> to Europe. -</p> - -<p> -'Innocent, I suffer all the shame and all -the agony of guilt! Oh, it is hard, -Duncan—very, very hard,' were the last words -she said, brokenly, to her husband, who -heard her with a stern silence that -astonished her. -</p> - -<p> -Now that Lady Batardeau, on her return -to the cantonments, had explained the -whole story of the ring, Duncan was—when -too late, for his wife was on the sea—full -of shame and contrition for his -suspicions and severity, and had written to -crave the pardon of Alice and insure her -return to him again; hence the farewell -and departure of 'Mrs. Cameron,' with her -overlands and other baggage, as witnessed -by the sharp little eyes of Sir Paget -Puddicombe at the Waverley Station, and thus it -was that, by an unexplained mistake, two -fond hearts were separated for ever; but -separated they would have been eventually -by fate or fortune—the lack of fortune, -rather—as time may show. -</p> - -<p> -But for a time poor Eveline had to -ponder bitterly on the humiliating thought -that Evan Cameron had been thinking of -<i>another</i> face, form, and name while in the -act of caressing herself, and that the other -was—as Sir Paget had left them no reason -to doubt, and never himself doubted—Evan -Cameron's wife! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XII. -<br /><br /> -OLIVE'S VISITOR, -</h3> - -<p> -Another mystery has now to be accounted -for—the state in which Allan found Olive -when her cry reached him as he idled with -his cigar in the grounds at Maviswood in -the evening, when the rest of the family -circle were in town. -</p> - -<p> -Olive was seated alone in one of the -drawing-rooms when a gentleman was -announced—a gentleman who no doubt -thought Allan was absent in Edinburgh -also. -</p> - -<p> -'Mr. Holcroft.' -</p> - -<p> -'Mr. Holcroft!' A book she was reading -fell from the hand of Olive, and she -started to her feet as that personage, hat -in hand, stood smilingly before her. For -a moment she could scarcely believe her -eyes as they met the pale, watery, and -shifty ones of her unexpected visitor. -</p> - -<p> -Terror and horror filled her heart on -finding herself face to face with this -man—an assassin in intent! It was too -horrible—too <i>outré</i> and grotesque to think -of. -</p> - -<p> -But what was his intention now? She -was not left long in ignorance. Why did -she not rush to the bell—summon the -household, and have the daring intruder -expelled or arrested? But no—she felt a -very coward just then, with a great dread -of Allan discovering him, and a heavy, -sickening foreboding of coming evil. -</p> - -<p> -There came dreamily to her memory, -too, some threatening words of his when -he had said that he would let no man come -between them, and that, though he might -fail to compel her to love him, he might -compel her to marry him: but neither love -nor marriage were in the mind of her -horrible visitor just then. -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Hawke Holcroft seemed rather -'down on his luck,' and looked somewhat -shabby and seedy. The last fragment of -his patrimony had been swallowed up; his -betting-book had proved a mistake, as he -had for some time past backed the wrong -horses; cards had failed him and play of -all kinds; in short, he was desperate, and -hence his appearance at Maviswood. -</p> - -<p> -To attempt the role of a lover again, -after all that had passed, and after all that -he was aware must be known to Miss -Raymond, was, he knew, impossible; but he -had a trump card to play in the way of -extortion—plain, blunt, rascally extortion; -so, conceiving that the girl was utterly -alone, he could not for the life of him -resist bantering her a little, all the more -as the utter loathing and dread her face -expressed, enraged him. -</p> - -<p> -'Mr. Holcroft!' she exclaimed, in a -breathless voice, as she recoiled and -became white as a lily. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Hawke Holcroft, the man your -fatal beauty has made him,' said he, with -melodramatic gloom and folded arms; -'when I met you first I met my fate—a -love that was my doom. But for you, -would I ever have been mad enough to -attempt the life of Allan Graham?' -</p> - -<p> -'How dare you come here—how dare -you speak to me thus!' said Olive, glancing -at the bell handle; but he planted himself -between it and her. -</p> - -<p> -'The love of you came to me when first -you looked into my face,' he resumed, in -his melodramatic style; 'I remember it -was but a smile—a smile; yet a mist came -before my eyes—a something stirred my -heart. Ah, Olive Raymond, it was your -beautiful eyes that suddenly kindled new -life within me—that will only end with -the old.' -</p> - -<p> -Olive was more irritated than alarmed -now. -</p> - -<p> -'How dare you come here?' she asked. -</p> - -<p> -'I can't help it—needs must when old -Boots drives,' said he; 'I came to show -you a work of art. Look here.' -</p> - -<p> -From his pocket-book he drew out and -held before her at arm's length the cabinet -photo of herself in a ball-dress; the photo, -or one like it, that she had the folly to -give him at Dundargue; but to her horror -and dismay she saw that it had been -reproduced, reversed, and manipulated in -some way by some low photographer, and -combined with one of Holcroft himself, -posed as if in the act of embracing her, -forming a strange group of two, whose -likenesses there would be no mistaking, -more especially that of her, as it was a -miraculous work of art in its truth and -individuality. -</p> - -<p> -It was Olive to the life, with her -brightest and sweetest expression now -bent on his face! -</p> - -<p> -'I am glad you recognise us,' said he, -mockingly, as he replaced the photo in its -receptacle, and the latter in his breast -pocket; 'and now to business. What -would your drawing-room hero think of -this, if he saw it? Ha, ha! He did not -approve of Byron at Dundargue, I -remember—would rather we stuck to Dr. Watts' -hymns, I suppose—'How doth the little -busy bee," and so forth; well, like that -industrious insect, I mean to improve "the -shining hour." How would he—how will -you and your family, with all their cursed -Scotch pride—like to see this photo in -every shop window exposed for sale to the -British public, among ballet-girls in -snowstorms, countesses swinging in hammocks, -bishops, and generals—murderers, too, -perhaps—eh? In a week or two I may -have a million copies of this precious -photo for sale in London and elsewhere. -Do you realise the meaning of this, my -scornful beauty? and the result it must -have on you, your name, your character, -your family, and your future—Miss Olive -Raymond posed in the arms of Hawke -Holcroft?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, heavens!' said Olive, in a low voice -like a whisper; 'are you a man or a -devil?' -</p> - -<p> -'A little of both, perhaps—I am what -circumstances have made me.' -</p> - -<p> -'Daring wretch—oh, what wrong have I -ever done you that you should cross my -path and agonise me thus?' -</p> - -<p> -Holcroft laughed; he knew that she had -a more than handsome allowance at her -guardian's behest and her own bank -account. He was without remorse or -pity, for cowardice and selfishness were -alike the ruling features of his character, -and he thought to control the tongue and -action of Olive through her own pride and -her love of Allan with an eye to future -monetary extortions. -</p> - -<p> -Pressing her left hand upon her heart, -as if she felt—as no doubt she did—a -spasm of pain there, and, with her eyes -almost closed, she said, -</p> - -<p> -'In the name of mercy, give me back -that photo!' -</p> - -<p> -'After I have had it so carefully -improved as a work of art? No; no, Miss -Raymond,' said he, in his detestable sneering -tone; 'but I shall be content to forego -my interest in the copyright for a certain -reasonable consideration.' -</p> - -<p> -'A consideration. I do not understand -you, sir,' said Olive, faintly, and clutching -a table for support. -</p> - -<p> -'Plainly, then, I mean a cheque for three -hundred—no, let me say four hundred—pounds, -and you had better be quick -about it, as I have no time to spare, and, -truth to tell, have no desire to renew my -acquaintance with any of the Aberfeldie -folks again.' -</p> - -<p> -'Four hundred pounds?' -</p> - -<p> -'That is the sum, Miss Raymond.' -</p> - -<p> -Like a blind person, she feebly and irresolutely -seemed to grope with her key about -the lock of her davenport, and Holcroft said, -</p> - -<p> -'Permit me to assist you.' -</p> - -<p> -He unlocked it, and threw open the lid. -Mechanically she seated herself, and began -to write, while conscious that this bantering -villain was still addressing her. -</p> - -<p> -'And so old Puddicombe has come to the -front again,' said he. 'An odd marriage -it will be—his with Miss Graham—Brummagem -allying itself with the Middle Ages—the -counting-house getting a line in -Burke's Peerage.' -</p> - -<p> -'There,' said she, handing him the cheque, -which he received with a low mocking bow, -'now give me the photo.' -</p> - -<p> -'Thanks, with pleasure. Perhaps you -may wish to frame it. Now, listen to me,' -he said, through his set teeth, 'if you divulge -a word of this interview, or make known -the power I have over you by means of this -photograph, "then and in that case," as I -believe your father's will is phrased, I shall -at once introduce it to the British public. -I give you this copy for your four hundred -pounds, but retain the negative!' -</p> - -<p> -Then it was that, as he withdrew, a cry -escaped from her overcharged breast—the -cry overheard by Allan, and she had -only power left her to conceal the odious -photo in the breast of her dress, when she -fell fainting on the floor, where she was -found. -</p> - -<p> -To destroy it was one of her first acts, -when consciousness returned, and she -was alone; but what availed the destruction -of this one, when her tormentor possessed -the power of producing others without -limit? -</p> - -<p> -A great horror possessed her now—a -dread and gloom came over her, with a -painful nervous terror—a kind of hunted -emotion—a fear of what might next ensue! -</p> - -<p> -Yet she took no one into her confidence, -not even Allan—on her part a fatal -error. -</p> - -<p> -After all her past sweet intercourse with -him, their delayed marriage—delayed by -the illness incident to Holcroft's outrage—and -his too probable speedy departure on -foreign service, was she now to harrow -him up by a reference to her folly, her -petulance, and her silly degrading flirtation -with this man, who now proved such a -pitiful, such an unfathomable villain! -</p> - -<p> -What if Allan should see suddenly that -fatal photo in a shop window? This -possibility plainly stared her in the face; -yet she was silent, and believed that ere -this issue came to pass, she was doomed to -be tortured and victimised by Holcroft -again; and the thought, the fear of this, -gave her a kind of fever of the spirit, which -made her quite ill, and bewildered her -friends. -</p> - -<p> -Money had evidently been given by her -to Holcroft—no small sum too; and for -what purpose? Remembering his threat -if she exposed his rascality, her tongue -was now tied by a most unwise terror. -Ill and harrassed, she remained much in -her room and avoided society. -</p> - -<p> -Allan, as he said resentfully, failed 'to -see the situation,' and in a gust of pique -and anger, feeling himself somewhat -degraded by Olive's bearing, resigned his -extended leave and joined his regiment, as -Olive said, resolved to 'sulk in Edinburgh -Castle, rather than have an explanation,' -rather unreasonably forgetting that she -had steadily refused to give one. -</p> - -<p> -She felt painfully that the mystery of -the money given to Holcroft was calculated -to compromise her with her kindred; but -what was that when compared with the -awful thundercloud which hung over her, -if he made the public use he threatened of -the photo! -</p> - -<p> -Her soul died within her. Meanwhile -Allan struggled hard to make himself -believe that he might yet be happy with -Olive; that he had perhaps no solid reason -for being otherwise; but it would not do. -</p> - -<p> -'Hang it, what does all this new -mystery mean?' he would say to himself. -'We seem fated to misunderstand each -other somehow. After all, she seems to -love her pride more than me, still!' -</p> - -<p> -And Olive knew that it was mingled -pride and fear that had opened a kind of -chasm between her and Allan again; yet a -little sense, a little courage and candour, -might have closed it speedily enough, and -smoothed away the anger the complication -raised at times within her; while to Allan -the situation was certainly an intolerable -one, and Olive's silence or reticence made -it all the more so. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap13"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIII. -<br /><br /> -WEDDED. -</h3> - -<p> -While baffled in her attempts to bring -about an explanation between Allan and -Olive, and to smooth matters over with -that wilful young lady (as she deemed her) -and her naturally irritated <i>fiancé</i>, Lady -Aberfeldie pushed on vigorously all the -arrangements for the marriage of Sir Paget -and the ill-starred Eveline—a marriage -for which there seemed then no other -reason than an avaricious desire of grand -settlements and so forth. -</p> - -<p> -All Olive's old pride and petulance (with -much of irritation that was new) seemed to -have come back to her, and, until the -matter was cleared up regarding that -mysterious visit of Holcroft to Maviswood, Allan -had ceased to speak of marriage, and thus -her spirit took fire at being doubted and -humbled. -</p> - -<p> -She shrank, unwisely, from a simple -confession that might have obviated all -this, and from revealing the shame and -affront to which this man possessed the -power of exposing her. -</p> - -<p> -'I detest riddles, and care not to read -them; but the mask she is wearing—if a -mask it be—may prove a costly one for -herself and us all,' thought Lord Aberfeldie -and his son too. -</p> - -<p> -'Be content, Allan, to know that I gave -that money—a trifle to me—to Mr. Holcroft -in the hope to save us all—especially -myself—from a probable public affront -which might destroy me,' said Olive on one -occasion, her eyes flashing through her -tears. -</p> - -<p> -'What mystery is this?—what can you -have done? how be in his power? The -assertion is absurd!' -</p> - -<p> -'Allan, cannot you trust me?' she asked, -fondly and sadly, yet proudly. -</p> - -<p> -'I know not what to think, but the whole -affair looks—looks to me——' -</p> - -<p> -'How.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, devilish queer,' said he, as he cut -the matter short, and rode away, on which -Olive dried her tears, crested up her head, -and looked defiant. -</p> - -<p> -'If this tiresome couple, Olive and Allan, -continue to pout and sulk at each other,' -said Lady Aberfeldie; 'and he should -decline to marry her, her money may be lost -to us by her twenty-fifth birthday.' -</p> - -<p> -'Unless——' the lord twisted his -moustache and paused. -</p> - -<p> -'Unless what?' -</p> - -<p> -'Allan gets himself killed in Egypt,' -replied Lord Aberfeldie, grimly. -</p> - -<p> -'Good heavens, do not say such a thing, -even in jest!' -</p> - -<p> -And now, perforce of their present -situation, a change had come over the two -cousins, Olive and Eveline—they never -read, studied, sung, rode, or walked -together, as they had been wont to do; a -blight had come over both their lives -apparently. -</p> - -<p> -Eveline only felt a little at ease when -Sir Paget was absent from her, and even -then she was pestered by his love-letters, -which, like those written usually by men -of advanced years, were of a grotesquely -impassioned nature. 'Attachments at that -age are deeper, and less anxiety not to -compromise oneself is shown and felt,' says -an essayist. 'After fifty, men are often -wise enough to vote the writing of -love-letters a bore, but some carry on the -practice to a very advanced age. Their -protestations are then ingeniously flavoured -with touches of the paternal, which sometimes -entirely mislead the unsophisticated -recipients.' -</p> - -<p> -But the mere sight of Sir Paget's -caligraphy, and of his heraldic note-paper, -having a shield with some mysterious -design thereon, and the motto <i>Puddicombe -petit alta!</i> (Puddicombe seeks lofty -objects), proved always enough for Eveline, -who tossed it into the waste-paper basket -unread, but torn into minute fragments, -while a sigh of weariness and repugnance -escaped her. -</p> - -<p> -Evan Cameron loved Allan Graham -dearly as a friend, and had naturally a -desire to be on the best terms with him as -the brother of the girl to whom he had -given all his heart. Thus, while meeting -him daily on parade and at mess, he was -sorely puzzled to account for the change -he felt in Allan's manner to himself, as he -knew not that the latter resented the -'Mrs. Cameron' episode as an insult to -Eveline, his sister. -</p> - -<p> -'I presume you know that my sister is -on the point of marriage—indeed, that the -day is fixed?' said Allan, rather grimly, to -him one day as he recalled the -circumstance of how Evan greatly admired, to -say the least of it, Eveline, and how her -heart had responded thereto. -</p> - -<p> -Cameron made no reply, but a sudden -pallor overspread his handsome, bronzed -face, and all his studied calmness forsook -him, while the memory of past hopes and -joys shook his heart as if with a tempest -of remembrance; but, stooping and half -turning away to conceal the expression of -his face, he attempted to light a cigar. -</p> - -<p> -'What a sly fellow—a cunning dog—you -are!' said Allan, with irritation of -tone. -</p> - -<p> -'In what way do you mean, Allan?' -asked Cameron. -</p> - -<p> -'Mean! How dare you ask, after your -open admiration of my sister, Miss -Graham, in a man in your position?' -</p> - -<p> -Cameron mistook his meaning; but the -mistake failed to rouse any pride, as his -heart was too crushed and sore just then. -</p> - -<p> -'Allan!' he exclaimed, as tears almost -welled up in his honest eyes, 'I loved her—I -love her still—God alone knows how -well, how desperately, and how hopelessly.' -</p> - -<p> -'Hopelessly indeed,' responded Allan, -his cheek now aflame with anger; 'and -you dare to tell me this after all that we -know of yourself and Mrs. Cameron?' -</p> - -<p> -It was now Cameron's turn to look -indignant and astonished; but in a few words -he explained all. -</p> - -<p> -'Poor Evan!' said Allan, as he wrung -the hand of Cameron, whose head sank -forward, so much was he overcome by -emotion; 'I am glad of this explanation, -but it comes too late—if indeed it could -ever have served any purpose so far as -your hopes with Eveline are concerned. In -three days she is to be married—and now, -let us talk of the subject no more.' -</p> - -<p> -But for a time black fury gathered in -the heart of Cameron at Sir Paget -Puddicombe, whose deductions, however, from -all that he saw at the railway station, were -most natural. -</p> - -<p> -'In three days,' he muttered again and -again, 'in three days, and she will be lost -to me for ever!' -</p> - -<p> -Eveline as yet was ignorant of her -lover's purity and innocence, nor would -the knowledge of it have availed her -much. There was a meek abandonment -of her own will—of her own judgment, -and Lady Aberfeldie caressed her more -than she had ever done before, glad to find -that she had become—my lady cared not -why or how—compliant at last. -</p> - -<p> -She seemed quite passive and supine—resigned, -Olive phrased it—and ready to -do her mother's bidding, for Evan Cameron -seemed to have quite passed out of her -life, though the name 'Alice' he had -uttered seemed to be ever in her ears. -</p> - -<p> -She heard her mother speaking, and -felt her caresses, but her eyes were -suffused by a kind of mist. Yet more than -once she had started amid her apathy, and -thought, 'Why am I still here—why don't -I run away to where they will never find -me?' -</p> - -<p> -But she had no determining motive to -decide her choice of place or scheme of -life, though she felt that ere long, when -these last three days were past, she would -have to reconstruct her entire future, and -from that future her heart recoiled and -shrank. Her temples throbbed as she -thought of this; her heart seemed alternately -to thunder in her breast, and then -to become unnaturally still. -</p> - -<p> -Again and again her mother told her -that she would be surrounded by such -wealth as falls to the lot of few; but she -cared not for wealth, nor would it ever -remove her gloomy and bitter reflections, -and at the very name of her intended -husband, though she evinced no emotion, a -secret and involuntary shudder came over -her. -</p> - -<p> -Society was intolerable just then, and -she had much of it at Maviswood. How -intolerable seemed lawn-tennis amid the -bright sunshine, the soft thud of the balls -upon the racquets, as they were shot over -the nettings from court to court, the -laughter of young and sweet voices, and the -cries ever and anon of 'fifteen,' 'thirty,' -'fault,' and so on, as the jovial game -progressed; and with evening came the -inevitable dinner-party, and at night the -dance. -</p> - -<p> -Allan, fearing to lacerate his sister's -heart, knew not how to undeceive her in -the matter of Cameron's supposed -duplicity, though the truth or falsehood -thereof could not affect her fate or her -relations with Sir Paget now; but the -true story escaped Carslogie quite -casually when in conversation with Olive, who -in due time related it to Eveline, in whose -breast it created some very mingled -emotions. -</p> - -<p> -So Evan was innocent, while she had -been feeling in her heart all the passion -and pain—yea, a sentiment of vengeance—which -women will feel, when they believe -they have been loving unworthily. -</p> - -<p> -Early on her marriage morning she left -her bed to think over all this. Wrapped -in a snow-white <i>peignoir</i> (or dressing-robe), -with all her undressed hair floating about -her shoulders and blown back by the warm -summer breeze, she sat at the open -window of her room, and looked dreamily out -with sad, sad eyes on the sunny landscape -and the lovely hills all steeped in golden -haze. -</p> - -<p> -How changed seemed its beauty now, -and how she longed to be away from it—to -be dead, in fact! Yet she was at an -age when even to live, ought to be in itself -a joy. -</p> - -<p> -The fragrance of the dewy summer -morning seemed to fill the outer world, -and amid the intense stillness she heard -only the voices of a lark high in the air -and of a cushat dove in the coppice. -</p> - -<p> -Her marriage morning—what a morning -of woe to her! Her cheeks were pale—very, -very pale; but with her parted scarlet -lips, and her tangled waves of rich -brown hair, she was beautiful as ever. -</p> - -<p> -The knowledge that her lover had not -deceived her, but was true, roused her for -a time, and filled her soul with a tempest -of unexpected sorrow, compunction, and -joy—sorrow that she had wronged him, -compunction for the cruel mode in which -she had treated him, and joy that his -honour was unstained, and that he still was -true; but oh! what must he think of her? -</p> - -<p> -Burying her face in her tremulous white -hands, she wept like a child—-wept as we -are told 'only women weep when their -hearts break over the grave of a dead -love,' and threw herself across her bed. -</p> - -<p> -'God forgive me—God forgive me, and -bless and comfort you, my love,' she -murmured. 'Oh, Evan, I have wronged -you—wronged you; but what does it avail us -after all—after all?' -</p> - -<p> -And she lay there crouched and gathered -in a heap, as it were, till Olive and others -who were to be her bridesmaids roused -her and lifted her up and summoned -Clairette. -</p> - -<p> -So her marriage-day had come, and, -unless she fell ill or died, the ceremony -was to go inexorably on. -</p> - -<p> -Olive was far from well; every day she -expected to hear of Holcroft's photo being -seen; her sole protection against that -catastrophe as yet, was the fear that ere it -came to pass, he would seek her presence -at least once again, on an errand of -extortion. But ill or well, she had to bear her -part in the ceremony as a bridesmaid, and -a charming one she looked. -</p> - -<p> -Allan, of course, was there too, but not -as groomsman—a 'fogie' friend of Sir -Paget officiated in that capacity, and more -than once did the head of the latter jerk -about in a way that was quite alarming as -he entered the church, which was <i>en fête</i> -for the occasion. -</p> - -<p> -To the tortured mind of his bride, she -thought it would be a relief when the -ceremony was over, and the phantasmagoria -that seemed to surround her had all -passed away. 'Is not certainty better than -suspense?' asks Rhoda Broughton; 'night -better than twilight? despair than the -sickly flicker of an extinguishing hope?' -</p> - -<p> -'In marrying in this compulsory fashion, -I do this poor man a great wrong,' thought -Eveline, 'and condemn myself to a -life-long sorrow.' -</p> - -<p> -And amid the sacrifice Lady Aberfeldie, -calm and aristocratic, stood with a great -air of dignity and grace peculiarly her -own. -</p> - -<p> -'She will love Sir Paget in time, if love -is necessary,' she was thinking; 'he is so -good, so generous, and <i>so</i> rich.' -</p> - -<p> -So rich—yes, with her—there lay the -magnet and the secret of it all! -</p> - -<p> -The bridesmaids, all handsome girls, -were uniformly costumed; among them -amber-haired Ruby Logan, quite jubilant -with reviving hopes of Allan. -</p> - -<p> -Eveline's cold and now white lips murmured -almost inaudibly the words she was -bidden to say—the few but terrible words -that made her a wedded wife—while her -pallid face was but half seen amid the -bridal veil, that seemed to float like filmy -mist around her. Allan alone, who knew -the real secret of her heart, looked pityingly, -darkly, and gravely on, for it was a -union of which—however his father and -mother desired it—he did not approve. -</p> - -<p> -For a time Eveline had actually schooled -herself to think that marriage would give -her a species of vengeance on the man -who, she thought, had wronged and -oppressed her. But now, oh, heaven! she -loved the lost one more than ever, while -death alone could unforge the fetters her -lips were riveting. -</p> - -<p> -Was it ominous of evil that the ring -dropped from her wedding finger as Sir -Paget placed it there? -</p> - -<p> -At last all was over. The great organ -pealed forth the wedding-march. The -bells rang joyously in the great spire -overhead, and she was led forth by Sir -Paget, leaning on his arm, a wedded -wife. -</p> - -<p> -So time would pass on—days dawn and -nights close; the moon would shine amid -the fleecy clouds on the quiet pastoral -hills, on the great castellated mass of -Dundargue, the woods and waters of her old -home; but never would she be as she had -been—as a happy, thoughtless girl—the -Eveline Graham of the past years; never -more could joy be hers, or would she -know again the love she had lost, the -tenderness she had tasted; and times -there were when, amid her general passive -appearance of numbness and indifference, -hot, scorching tears of utter despair -escaped her, and a passionate longing -seized her to take to flight, whither she -knew not, and to rend asunder the meshes -of the marriage net that bound her now; -and in this frame of mind she departed -on her honeymoon! -</p> - -<p> -On that morning, there lingered long -on one of the western batteries of the old -castle an officer who—if he was noticed -at all—seemed to be solely intent on -enjoying a cigar, and who seemed to -avoid the society of all. -</p> - -<p> -This was poor Evan Cameron, listening -to the wedding bells in the distant spire, -and well he knew for what a tragedy they -were ringing; and, each time their -clangour came upon the wind, they seemed to -find an echo in his heart. -</p> - -<p> -So she was married at last, and more -than ever lost to him! -</p> - -<p> -Cards came to him in due course, and -he tore them into minute fragments. -</p> - -<p> -Evan did all his regimental duties and -daily work like a man—but as one in a -dream—all that was required of him, with -more than ever, if possible, strict punctilio; -yet he felt himself a mere machine, -without heart or soul; and had only one -longing, for the time when he might turn -his back upon his native country, and find -himself face to face with the enemy, no -matter who, or where, that enemy might be. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap14"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIV. -<br /><br /> -MISTRUST. -</h3> - -<p> -'Now that dear Eveline is off our hands,' -said Lady Aberfeldie, 'I cannot help -thinking seriously of Allan's affairs and -those of Olive, and really some serious -advice should be given to the foolish -couple. Could not you——' -</p> - -<p> -'No,' interrupted her husband; 'I wash -my hands of lovers and their piques and -plans. You have managed the matter of -Eveline and Sir Paget—try your skill once -more.' -</p> - -<p> -'Neither Allan nor Olive is so compliant -as poor Eveline.' -</p> - -<p> -'No—poor Eveline indeed!' -</p> - -<p> -'You think of her marriage thus, now?' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, there is no denying it is rather -a January-and-May style of thing; but let -us not speak of it.' -</p> - -<p> -Considering that her husband had from -the first given his full assent to the whole -transaction, Lady Aberfeldie could not -help glancing at him rather reproachfully, -but she only said, -</p> - -<p> -'Olive has, of course, many admirers; -but the rumour of her engagement to -Allan keeps them all at a distance.' -</p> - -<p> -'Poor Olive! Her fortune is almost a -misfortune to her.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'She imagines it to be the attraction of -everyone, rather than her own beauty.' -</p> - -<p> -'And once she conceived it to be the -attraction of Allan; but she knows better -now—that he loves, or loved, her for -herself alone.' -</p> - -<p> -'She has already had two peers and a -baronet in her train, all drawn thither, I -fear, by her money-bags alone, and young -Carslogie of Ours seemed desperately -smitten, too.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ours?' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, I always think of the Black -Watch as 'Ours'—it is force of habit—a -good-looking fellow, well-born, well-bred, -with plenty of money.' -</p> - -<p> -'Allan is his equal in all these and more; -but what he and she mean by dallying and -delaying as they do, I cannot conceive.' -</p> - -<p> -Allan had looked upon Olive at the -recent marriage in her striking costume as -a bridesmaid, and thought she had never -appeared to greater advantage. -</p> - -<p> -Why should she not have figured there -as a bride too? What was the secret -spring of this doubt and mistrust that had -come between them again, and which she -shrank from attempting to explain? -</p> - -<p> -To do her justice, she was often on the -point of doing so; but a sentiment of -miserable fear of what Allan might do, -think, or say, if made aware of the deep -affront Holcroft was capable of inflicting -upon his future wife, tied her tongue. -</p> - -<p> -Better would it have been a thousand -times had she trusted to Allan fully and -implicitly, and to the means he might put -in force to procure or purchase the silence -for ever of such a reptile as her tormentor. -</p> - -<p> -The knowledge in the minds of both, -that a time for separation must inevitably -come soon now, if all the rumours of war -proved true, softened their emotions, and -drew the cousins towards each other again. -</p> - -<p> -The intercourse between them had, as -of old, its usual charm, but was strange -and constrained, for as Allan did not -attempt again the <i>rôle</i> of lover, but seemed -to 'bide his time,' Olive felt her pride -alarmed, and would often reply to him -coldly, with a straightening of her slim -form, and a cresting up of her graceful -neck and handsome head. -</p> - -<p> -Time passed on; she heard nothing of -Hawke Holcroft or his threats, and the -courage of Olive rose; but it was awful to -think of her name being at the mercy of -such a creature, even if she were married! -</p> - -<p> -Once the love that was really smouldering -in the hearts of both nearly burst into -a flame again. -</p> - -<p> -Olive was seated in the garden at Maviswood -so deeply lost in thought that she -was unaware of Allan's approach until he -overhung the rustic sofa she occupied. -</p> - -<p> -'A penny for your thoughts, Olive,' said -he. -</p> - -<p> -'The sum usually offered for what might -prove a perilous secret to know.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well?' -</p> - -<p> -'My thoughts were of many things till -your voice scattered them,' said she, -twirling her sunshade on her shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -'I was in hope they were of—me.' -</p> - -<p> -Olive only smiled, and remained silent, -while he looked into her eyes with a -curiously mingled expression, which seemed -to be both imploring and commanding, but -she only said, -</p> - -<p> -'They were not of you—why should they be?' -</p> - -<p> -Allan drew back a pace, with a cloudy -brow. -</p> - -<p> -'Forgive my being playful for a moment, -Olive—I shall never in this way offend you -again.' -</p> - -<p> -She gave him a sweet and deprecating, -almost an entreating, glance; but Allan -did not perceive it; his face was turned -angrily and sadly from her, so her -pique—ever so ready—became roused. -</p> - -<p> -'Olive,' said Allan, after a pause, 'love -should always be stronger than pride.' -</p> - -<p> -'Of course—when love exists,' she -replied, turning a shoulder from him. -</p> - -<p> -'And with you, Olive, do not let it stand -between us as before. If your father's -will is again the cause, let me tell you -once more that I refuse to have any share -in that lunatic arrangement, and will not -marry you on any such conditions.' -</p> - -<p> -'Who is thinking or talking of marriage?' -said she, sarcastically, yet making -an effort to restrain her tears; 'moreover, -I fear that as a husband you would be very -tyrannical and cruel.' -</p> - -<p> -'My character in the present and the -past does not bear out this, I think.' -</p> - -<p> -'Suspicious, then?' -</p> - -<p> -'Not without extreme and just reason,' -replied Allan, as his mind flashed back to -the Holcroft episode. -</p> - -<p> -She strove to glance at him defiantly, -but failing, smiled, though his handsome -face had in it an expression of sorrow and -anger. -</p> - -<p> -'Ere a month be past, Olive, an -Egyptian bullet may make you every way a -free woman, so far as regards your father's -will.' -</p> - -<p> -'I do not wish to be free from it,' she -was on the point of saying passionately, -but controlled her speech and -remained—unwisely—silent. -</p> - -<p> -Allan regarded her wistfully. -</p> - -<p> -'Are injudicious reticence and a little -aversion the best beginning of a true love?' -he asked. -</p> - -<p> -'Perhaps—I am no casuist,' said she, -tapping the ground with a pretty little foot -impatiently. -</p> - -<p> -Lovely, pouting, and wistful, her face -was now turned to his with a mixture -of petulance and shy reproach as she -thought, -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, why does he not take me in his -arms, and kiss and make a fuss with me -as he used to do.' -</p> - -<p> -But, repelled by her curious manner, -Allan had no intention of doing any such -thing, and thought her a curious enigma. -So thus the chance of a complete reunion -ended, and ere long the luckless Olive -was to have cause for repenting most -bitterly her lack of candour and perfect trust, -and the force of the overweening pride -which engendered mistrust in one who -loved her so well. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap15"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XV. -<br /><br /> -THE BLACK WATCH. -</h3> - -<p> -War with Egypt had been declared, and in -the Castle of Edinburgh, as in every other -fortress and barrack in the British Isles, -the notes of preparation were sounding, -and the Black Watch, ever so glorious in -the annals of our army, was among the -regiments bound for the land where, eighty -years before, it had gathered such a crop -of laurels under the gallant Abercrombie, -in conflict, not against a feeble horde of -Egyptians, but when encountering forty -thousand of the veteran infantry of -France. -</p> - -<p> -From that day in the October of 1739 -when the companies of <i>Freicudan Dhu</i>, or -Black Watch (so called from their -sombre green tartans), drawn from the -Munroes of Ross, the Grants of Strathspey, -and the Campbells of Lochnelland Carrick, -were first enrolled as a regiment on the -Birks of Aberfeldie, near the southern -bank of the Tay, by the gallant old Earl -of Crawford, the 42nd has been second to -none in peace and war, and its very name -and number are rendered dear to the -people of Scotland by innumerable ties of -friendship and clanship, by traditions and -glorious exploits in battle. -</p> - -<p> -In almost everything that has added -strength or brilliance to the British -Empire the regiment has borne a leading part, -and to attempt to trace its annals would -be to write the history of our wars since -the days of the second George. -</p> - -<p> -Suffice it that the second year after the -companies were constituted a regiment, -saw them fighting for the House of -Austria against France and Bavaria, and -covering the rear of that British army -which was hurled from the heights of -Fontenoy by the bayonets of the Irish -Brigades, and where, we are told, -'the gallantry of Sir Robert Munroe of -'the gallantry of Sir Robert Munroe of -Culcairn and his Highlanders was the -theme of admiration through all Britain.' -</p> - -<p> -So it was with them in the old Flanders -war, till 1758 saw them attacking -Ticonderoga in America, where, rushing from -amid the Reserve, where they disdained to -linger, they hewed down the dense abatis -with their claymores, and, storming the -breastworks, 'climbing up one another's -shoulders, and placing their feet in the -holes made in the face of the works by -their swords and bayonets, no ladders -having been provided,' exposed the while -to a dreadful fire of cannon and musketry, -under which six hundred and forty-seven -of them fell; and hence a cry for vengeance -went through the country of the clans, -procuring so many recruits, and another -battalion was formed, and fresh glories -were won in the West India Isles, where, -at Martinique and by the walls of the -Moro, their pipes sent up the notes of -victory. -</p> - -<p> -In the fatal strife of the American revolt -they were ever in the van, and the first -years of the present century saw their -tartans waving darkly amid the -battle-smoke of Aboukir, under the shadow of -Pompey's Pillar, and on the plains of -Alexandria, where they cut to pieces the -French Invincibles, slew six hundred and -fifty of them, captured their colours, which -were delivered to Major Stirling, together -with the cannon they had also seized; -and ere long the mosques and towers -of Grand Cairo echoed to their martial -music. -</p> - -<p> -Who can record the brilliance of their -valour in the long and glorious war of the -Peninsula—that war of victories, which -began on the banks of the Douro and -continued to the hill of Toulouse? And -anon, their never-to-be-forgotten prowess -on the plains of Waterloo, when, under -Macara, they formed the flower of Picton's -superb division, and where, with the Greys -and Gordon Highlanders, they sent up the -cry which still finds echo in every Scottish -heart, the <i>cri-de-guerre</i> of 'Scotland for -ever!' while plunging into those mighty -French columns, which rolled away before -their bayonets like smoke before the wind. -</p> - -<p> -There their total casualties were two -hundred and ninety-seven of all ranks. -</p> - -<p> -'They fought like heroes, and like heroes -fell—an honour to the country,' to quote -the War Office Record, page 145. 'On -many a Highland hill, and through many -a Lowland valley, long will the deeds of -these brave men be fondly remembered -and their fate deeply deplored. Never did -a finer body of men take the field; never -did men march to battle that were destined -to perform such services to their country, -and to obtain such immortal renown.' -</p> - -<p> -But equal renown did their services win -on the banks of the Alma, when old Colin -Campbell led them into action, exclaiming, -</p> - -<p> -'Now, men, the whole army is watching -us; make me proud of my Highland -Brigade!' -</p> - -<p> -And reason indeed had that grand old -soldier to be proud of his lads in the kilt, -as they swept up the green hillsides to -glory. 'The ground they had to ascend,' -says an eye-witness, the author of 'Eothen,' -'was a good deal more steep and broken -than the slope beneath the redoubt. In -the land where those Scots were bred, -there are shadows of sailing clouds -shimmering up the mountain side, and their -paths are rugged and steep, yet their -course is smooth, easy, and swift. Smoothly, -easily, and swiftly the Black Watch -seemed to glide up the hill. A few -minutes before their tartans ranged dark in -the valley; now their plumes were on the -crest.' -</p> - -<p> -Into the dense grey masses of the Kazan -column, over which towered the miraculous -figure of St. Sergius, their steady -volley swept like a sheet of lead; anon -their line of bayonets was flashing to the -charge like a hedge of steel, and a wail of -despair broke from the Muscovites, who, -crying that 'the Angel of Death had come,' -threw away all that might impede their -speed and fled. -</p> - -<p> -'Then,' says the brilliant author we -have quoted, 'rose the cheers of the -Highland Brigade. Along the Kourgané -slopes, and thence west almost home -to the causeway, the hillsides were -made to resound with that joyous -and assuring cry, which is the -natural utterance of a northern people so -long as it is warlike and free.' -</p> - -<p> -Their furious onset struck terror to -many an Indian heart during the dark -years of the Sepoy revolt, and like sweetest -music their pipes were heard by that -desperate and despairing band who fought -for their wives and children in beleaguered -Lucknow; and as, of course, the old Black -Watch must be in everything, they bore -their share in the conquest of Coomassie, -and were the first men in the sable city, -as their pipes announced to the army of -Wolseley. -</p> - -<p> -While on this subject, we cannot help -quoting a Frenchman's estimate of the -Scottish troops. In the <i>Moniteur de Soir</i> -for 1868, a writer says, -</p> - -<p> -'The Scottish soldiers form without -distinction the cream of the British army, -and the Highlander is the prototype of -the excellent soldier. He has all the -requisite qualities without one defect. -Unluckily for Great Britain, the population of -Scotland is not numerous. Saving, it is -true, to the point of putting by penny after -penny, the Scotsman, for all that, is -honest, steadfast, and amiable in his -intercourse with others, enthusiastic and proud, -most chivalrous when the question is -about shedding his blood. The old -traditions of clanship subsist, each company -is grouped round an illustrious name, and -all and every man is sure to be the -captain's cousin. The Highlanders have a -strange sort of bravery, which partakes of -French fire and English phlegm. They rush -with impetuosity, they charge with vigour, -but are not hurried away by anger. In the -very hottest of an attack, a simple order -suffices to stop them. Formed in square, -you would take them for Englishmen, but -in the bayonet charge you would swear -they were French. For the rest they are -of Celtic origin, and the blood of our -fathers flows in their veins. In the eyes -of the Turk, the Scots have one enormous -fault—that of showing their bare legs. -In <i>our</i> eyes they have but one defect, but -still excessively annoying—their depraved -taste for the screaming of the bagpipes. -We know that the Highlanders would not -get under fire (with <i>élan</i>) without being -excited by their national airs being played -on this discordant instrument. One of -their generals having put down this -piercing music, they attacked the enemy so -languidly that the bagpipes had to be -restored to them, and then they took the -position. In a word, we repeat that the -Scots are magnificent soldiers.' -</p> - -<p> -We may smile at the Frenchman's idea -of the pipes, for as the old piper said of -Count Flauhault when he expressed his -disgust thereat, 'Maybe she heard owre -muckle o' them at Waterloo.' -</p> - -<p> -And now once again the Black Watch -were going to the land of the sun and the -desert, where Abercrombie received his -death-wound while calling to them in the -charge, 'My brave Highlanders, remember -your country—remember your forefathers!' And -these glories, with all 'the -stirring memories of a thousand years,' -were not forgotten on that day in the -August of 1882 when, under the scion of -a gallant house, Cluny the younger, the -regiment received its orders of readiness -and began to prepare for its departure -from the Castle of Edinburgh, while a -mighty throb seemed to pervade the heart -of the city as its hour of departure -approached. -</p> - -<p> -All in its ranks, of course, had friends -whom they sorrowed to leave—all save -poor Evan Cameron; and all were -impatient and full of ardour to join in the -coming strife; but none, perhaps, were -more impatient than he, for he had to seek -forgetfulness—oblivion from his own -thoughts—a refuge from his futile -regrets—among other scenes for the lost love of -one who could never be more to him than -a tender memory now. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap16"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVI. -<br /><br /> -IN THE BELVIDERE. -</h3> - -<p> -Shakespeare tells us that men have died -and worms have eaten them, but not for -love. So Evan Cameron did not die, nor -had he any thoughts of dying; but it -seemed to his young and enthusiastic -heart just then that all which made life -worth living for, and all its fulness, -splendour, and joy, were over and done with -for him. -</p> - -<p> -Of the movements of the Aberfeldie -family he knew nothing at that time. -</p> - -<p> -Allan was again on leave, and was to -join the regiment on the day of its -embarkation in England. -</p> - -<p> -Evan had a longing to see the place -where he had last seen Eveline, as her -lover, at Maviswood. Memories of the -past days at Dundargue came vividly upon -him now—of the times when they had -wandered in the leafy woods near the old -castle, talking sweet nonsense, with happy -hearts and laughter that came so readily; -when eye spoke to eye and hand thrilled -when it touched hand with lingering pressure, -and glances were exchanged that, if -they meant anything, meant love. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Aberfeldie had been ever kind to -him, and a friend of his father; he thought -he would like to press the good peer's -hand once more before he departed, for -the regiment was going far away, to a -land from whence he might never return; -so, as Evan was an impulsive young -fellow, he repaired at once to Maviswood. -</p> - -<p> -He found Mr. Tappleton, the old family -butler, airing his figure at the front door -when he approached. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Aberfeldie, he was informed, was -in London—his lordship was residing with -Miss Raymond at Southsea, and Sir Paget -was not at home. -</p> - -<p> -'Sir Paget—is he living here?' asked -Cameron, with a start. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, sir, for a few days.' -</p> - -<p> -'And Lady—Lady——' He paused, -unable to pronounce the name. -</p> - -<p> -'Is also here,' replied Mr. Tappleton, -knowing instantly who he meant; 'but -she is out somewhere walking in the -grounds.' -</p> - -<p> -Evan gave the butler a couple of cards -and turned away. He felt quite startled -to find that Sir Paget and his bride were -resident at Maviswood, and thought that -he could not get away from the vicinity of -the house too soon. -</p> - -<p> -Proceeding down the avenue, he passed -a narrow, diverging path between high -old holly-hedges, the vista of which was -closed by a belvidere, or species of pillared -alcove, built upon a grassy knoll, and -therein, as if in a shrine, stood Eveline. -</p> - -<p> -To pass was impossible. For a moment -he stood rooted to the spot, and then, as -one in a dream, approached her. To meet -her face to face thus, was like something -of a dreadful shock to both now. -</p> - -<p> -Eveline was deadly pale and trembling, -while her graceful figure looked very -slight and girlish in her fresh cambric -costume and gipsy hat. -</p> - -<p> -At the very moment of their meeting -there, her mind had been full of him. -</p> - -<p> -How had poor Evan borne the tidings -of her marriage, and with it the total -destruction of their mutual wishes?—mutual -hopes they had none. -</p> - -<p> -She had often pondered on this, and -wondered how he had heard it, who had -told him of it, or if he had seen it in the -papers, and how he looked when the sad -tidings came. Of the cruel mockery of -sending him wedding-cards she knew -nothing. Was he striving to forget -er? perhaps learning to hate her—oh, not -that!—to despise her? nor that, if he -knew all. -</p> - -<p> -But they were nothing to each other -now, and never could be anything more. -</p> - -<p> -Anon would come other thoughts that -were perilous to a young and enthusiastic -girl. -</p> - -<p> -Evan Cameron had given himself to -her with all his heart, and with all his -soul, and he loved her with all the strength -of both; and now—now, with another -man's wedding-ring upon her finger, she -felt unprepared to relinquish that love, -for she could not doubt that it must still -exist, though he had been cruelly and -selfishly treated. -</p> - -<p> -And while all these thoughts had been -coursing through her brain he came -suddenly before her. -</p> - -<p> -'I pray that he may soon forget -me—poor Evan!' had been her frequent -thought. 'Why should he think of me -more, when he knows of my marriage, -and must deem me a pitiful creature.' -</p> - -<p> -Each caught their breath, each clasped -their hands as if in mute misery, and the -eyes of both were strained, as if the pain -of recognition was mingled with the peril -of the situation. -</p> - -<p> -Evan thought how pale and transfigured -looked the soft face of his lost love! -</p> - -<p> -'I knew not that you where here—I -came to visit your father—we march -tomorrow—and—and——' -</p> - -<p> -Evan paused breathlessly, though his -voice seemed to thrill with passion, and -his lips, when they touched her -hands—even the hand with the obnoxious -wedding-hoop—trembled and quivered -like those of a girl. -</p> - -<p> -'Evan,' she said, softly, 'Evan!' -</p> - -<p> -'My darling—my lost darling!' broke -from his lips, as he clasped her in his -arms, and her slender fingers softly and -tremulously caressed his dark and -closely-curling hair with something that was -almost motherly, or sisterly, in the -intensity of its tenderness. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Evan,' she whispered, 'may God -watch over you, spare you, protect you, -and give you some other heart to make -you happy.' -</p> - -<p> -It was some solace to Evan's wounded -spirit that she had been in a manner—apart -from her temporary doubt of -himself—forced into her marriage; that her -own free will, poor girl, had no hand in -the matter. -</p> - -<p> -Clasped to his heart, hers was beating -for some moments 'with the wild music -of recovered joy, her great dread silenced -by her greater passion.' -</p> - -<p> -But to what end was it all? -</p> - -<p> -'This is madness!' exclaimed Evan, as -they stood for a minute, hand clasped -in hand, and gazing into each other's -eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'Madness indeed!' moaned Eveline. -</p> - -<p> -'I am going far away, my darling, and -shall never see you again. That I may -find a grave in Egypt is the kindest wish -you can have for me; and that you will -never think but kindly of me in the time -to come, is my only and my dearest hope -now.' -</p> - -<p> -She was in his arms again—the girl, -every tress of whose brown-golden hair -was dear to him—every expression of -whose eyes and lips, every tone of whose -voice, every charm and grace of whose -face and form were graven on his inner -heart; but what availed all that now? -</p> - -<p> -'You know all now—my secret, and -that I was not false to you, Eveline?' -said he. -</p> - -<p> -'All,' she replied, hollowly. -</p> - -<p> -'Poor Alice could not come to my -quarters in the Castle, consequently I -had to meet her somewhere—where you -saw us. Poor little soul, she had no -one to trust, to—to confide in, save me.' -</p> - -<p> -'And now——' -</p> - -<p> -'She has gone back to her husband—back -to my brother in India.' -</p> - -<p> -'Desperate with the idea that you, -Evan, had deceived me, I was -blind—careless—passive in their hands, and -heedless what became of me; and Sir -Paget bought me of them—bought me -of papa and mamma—as a slave who -loathes her buyers and her slavery!' -exclaimed Eveline, wildly. -</p> - -<p> -'Such a fate, my darling!' -</p> - -<p> -'Such a fate, indeed!' she whispered -through her set teeth. 'But we must -part now,' she added, but without -withdrawing her hands from his firm clasp. -</p> - -<p> -'A parting bitter as death, Eveline.' -</p> - -<p> -'And as hopeless,' she said, now sobbing -heavily. -</p> - -<p> -'Yet, with all its bitterness, this has -been a great, an unexpected joy to see you -here, to embrace you once again.' -</p> - -<p> -Of one grim fact they could not be -oblivious. She was another man's wife, and -he had to tear himself away; to lose for -ever the sight of that sweet, afflicted face, -the tones of that beloved voice, to long -again for both, with eager eyes and ears, -in the time that was to come. -</p> - -<p> -'Though parted thus, Eveline, you will -think of me sometimes—you will remember?' -</p> - -<p> -'For ever and for ever, while my miserable -life lasts, Evan.' -</p> - -<p> -'My poor darling! To remember me, -to be constant to me in memory, while -another's wife.' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot realise that even now, still -less what my life will be in the future, with -you not in it.' -</p> - -<p> -A long, clinging kiss and he was gone, -while Eveline sank down on the stone -seat within the belvidere in a state of -semi-consciousness, in which she was -discovered by Sir Paget. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap17"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVII. -<br /><br /> -THE ROUTE. -</h3> - -<p> -Few scenes are more stirring than the -departure of a regiment for the seat of war, -in Scotland, perhaps, more than anywhere -else, when it is the departure of a -national regiment endeared to the people -by historical and warlike associations, -combined with those of clanship and kindred. -</p> - -<p> -The last toast at the mess, ere it was -broken up, was '<i>Tir nam Bean, nan Glean, -s nan Gaisgaich</i>;' and now, till more -peaceful times, its magnificent and trophied -mess-plate was stored away, among it that -gigantic silver tripod, with its fluted bowl, -weighing eighteen hundred ounces, -bearing, with other mottoes, these:—<i>Na Tir -chaisin Buardh son Eiphart</i> 21 <i>Mar,</i> 1801' -and—'<i>O'Chummin Gaidhculach d' on -Freicudan Dhu, na</i> 42 <i>Regiment</i>.' -</p> - -<p> -About seven in the morning the pipers -of the Black Watch blew the gathering, -waking the echoes of that grand old -fortress, which is the focus of so much -Scottish history, and from the gates of which -by sword or spear the tide of war was so -often rolled back in the stormy days of -old; and now the sound of the pipes -found a deeper echo in the hearts of the -thousands who were mustering in the -streets below to bid the regiment farewell, -and wish it God-speed in the land it was -going to. -</p> - -<p> -The August morning was a lovely one, -and the shadows formed by the golden -sunshine lay purple and deep in the glens -of the Pentlands, and in the valleys and -hollows spanned by the bridges of the city -and overlooked by the towering edifices -of its terraced streets, amid which rose -every spire and pinnacle tipped with ruddy -splendour. -</p> - -<p> -The woods and gardens were still in all -their summer beauty and greenery, and -the corn-fields in the distance were ripe -with golden grain over all the sun-lighted -landscape. Ere that corn was all gathered, -many of those who came gaily forth, -mustering to the sound of the pipes, -were to find their graves in the sand of -the Egyptian desert, where the Black -Watch had gathered so many laurels in -the wars of other years. -</p> - -<p> -All the city was astir as it had never -been since the King's Own left the same -fortress for the shores of the Crimea, -and the hum of the gathering thousands -filled the clear air of the dewy morning. -</p> - -<p> -Cluny trusted in his men, and thus, on -this conspicuous morning, no man failed -him, and no man was absent from his -place in the ranks. The bustle of -departure was past; stores had been -issued; the grey tropical helmet, with a -little crimson hackle worn on the left -side, was for a time to supersede the -graceful bonnet with its black plumes; -valises and haversacks had been packed; -rifles and bayonets inspected; the baggage -selected and forwarded; and nothing -remained now but to march, after sixteen -months' residence in the city of the -Stuarts. -</p> - -<p> -Cluny had kindly given ample opportunities -to his men to take leave of their -friends, and it was only for a short time -before their departure, that the great -palisaded barriers of the Castle were closed at -the <i>tête-du-pont</i> against all comers, and the -human surge that pressed against them. -</p> - -<p> -At last the pipes were heard echoing -under that deep archway through which -millions of armed men have marched; the -brass drums rang under the grim ports of -the Half-Moon Battery; the barriers were -rolled back, and, with dragoons clearing -the way, the Black Watch, in their fighting -kits, with grey helmets, white jackets, -and dark-green tartans, their colours cased, -and all their bayonets glittering in the -sun like a rippling stream of steel, came -marching down the slope, while cheers -rent the air, cheers and shouts, though -doubtless many a heavy heart was there, -for wives and sweethearts, children and -parents, alike were being left behind by -those on whose faces they might never -look again. -</p> - -<p> -Each man had on his back a valise, tin -canteen, and great-coat; his haversack and -water-bottle were slung, and attached to -a lanyard at his neck, each carried a large -knife—like the genuine jockteleg of the -days of old—and right service-like and -purpose-like they all looked. -</p> - -<p> -The officers, who were in blue patrol -jackets, with kilt, claymore, and dirk, -carried knives of the same kind, together -with a haversack, field-glass, and water-bottle. -</p> - -<p> -Dense were the crowds occupying every -street, every window and balcony, every -coign of vantage, and the whole area -through which the regiment marched to -the sound of its national and martial -music seemed instinct with life, ardour, -and enthusiasm. -</p> - -<p> -Many veterans were in the ranks of the -regiment—men who had served in -Ashanti, and not a few who, as Albany -Highlanders, had marched to Candahar and -fought in Afghanistan. Their colonel—Cluny -the younger, son of that venerable -Cluny who is chief of the Macphersons or -Clanvurich (the second tribe of the great -Clan Chattan), and was once a Black -Watchman—rode at their head, and near -him marched his favourite sergeant-major, -MacNeil, a tall, stately, and tried soldier, -who, though he knew not the fate before -him, when the hour came, had no fear of -facing death, as became one of the -Freicudan Dhu. -</p> - -<p> -Evan Cameron, as he marched on, -claymore in hand, had a shrewd idea that -among the many there whose tender hearts -were filled with pity and enthusiasm, would -be one who was secretly and inexpressibly -dear to himself; and yet, though a kind of -mortal pain was in his breast, his heart, -despite it all, beat responsive to the -cadence of the old familiar march—the -regimental quick-step—the same air to which -he had so often trod in past times and in -other lands; and now, as one in a dream, -he saw the seething crowds, the forest of -waving hats and handkerchiefs, and all the -glorious view on which he was probably -looking for the last time—the noble line -of Princes Street, steeped in the morning -sun, the Calton Hill with its line of towers -and battlements, its temples, great stone -obelisk, and reproduction of the classic -Parthenon of Minerva, Arthur's Seat, and -the Craigs, and the old city with its -ten-storey houses—each a stone record of the -historic past. -</p> - -<p> -He was suddenly roused on seeing Carslogie -playfully kiss the basket hilt of his -claymore, and wave his hand to a young -lady who sat by the side of an elderly -gentleman in an open barouche. -</p> - -<p> -She was closely veiled, but Evan's heart -leaped in his breast when he recognised -Eveline—Eveline by the side of Sir Paget, -who waved his hat occasionally, and -jerked his bald head about as usual. -</p> - -<p> -'Why was such a girl as that, Allan -Graham's sister, sacrificed to that old -devil of a fogie?' asked one of the Black -Watch of Carslogie, a high-spirited young -fellow, who thought it very nice to be in -the 42nd, but very nasty to be also in debt, -and was now right glad to find himself <i>en -route</i> for Egypt. -</p> - -<p> -'Why, indeed? you may well ask,' he -replied; 'simply because her father is one -of the upper ten, and, like all that lot, -selfish to the backbone.' -</p> - -<p> -And Cameron's heart endorsed his -answer to the full. -</p> - -<p> -Eveline saw him, and for a moment—but -a moment only—raised her, veil. -</p> - -<p> -The tale of all she had endured was -written in the wistful and mournful -expression of her soft hazel eyes, and all -who knew her now remarked that, though -she sometimes smiled, she never -laughed. -</p> - -<p> -She felt her lips quiver and the lines of -them tighten, for we may control deep -emotion in the eyes, but on the mouth, -never. -</p> - -<p> -Her whole heart and soul were concentrated -in the effort to appear calm and -look on, though her eyes were dim with -the tears in which she feared just then to -indulge. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, my darling!' she whispered to herself, -again and again, but voicelessly, in -her heart. 'My dear love—my brave -Evan—I shall never see you again!' -</p> - -<p> -Surreptitiously she concealed her -tear-soaked handkerchief in her pocket, and -drew forth another—a fresh one redolent -of eau-de-Cologne. Quickly though she -did it, Sir Paget saw the act, drew his own -conclusions therefrom, and thought -himself an ass for having accorded her -permission to see the Black Watch -depart. -</p> - -<p> -Their recent brief meeting—the memory -of the passionate kisses that should -never have been given or taken—added -now to the supremeness of the present -moment. -</p> - -<p> -He only appeared to bow to her; but as -he gazed with eyes of passionate yearning -on her flower-like face, the lips he had -kissed so often, the eyes that had so often -looked with love into his, and did so now, -his heart filled with a wild and desperate -longing to take her to his breast and cover -her face with kisses again. -</p> - -<p> -But the drums beat, the pipes played -loud and high, the crowds cheered, and -the forward march went ruthlessly on. -</p> - -<p> -All this fuss of Eveline's, thought Sir -Paget, could not be merely for the -departure of her brother's regiment! -</p> - -<p> -At last to Eveline's ears the sound of -pipe and drum died away in the distance -as the barouche was driven homeward to -Maviswood; but now the despair in her -face and attitude was too palpable not to -attract the attention of Sir Paget, who -jerked his face forward quite close to -hers and regarded her gloomily and in -silence. -</p> - -<p> -In all that followed now, Evan Cameron -seemed to act mechanically, and to do that -which was his duty by mere force of -habit, as the regiment marched into the -resounding railway station, where he saw -the men of his company told-off to -compartments; saw the sergeants marking on -the footboard of the carriages with chalk -the letter of the company; saw the men -take off their valises; and ere long the -swift special train was sweeping through -the dark tunnel that pierces the rocky -bowels of Calton Hill, and the Black -Watch were fairly off for Egypt again. -</p> - -<p> -How to bear his loss in the long years -that were to come, if the fortune of war -spared him, was the thought that tortured -most the mind of Cameron then, and gave -him an emotion of despair. -</p> - -<p> -He remembered the fixed and agonised -gaze of Eveline; he remembered, too, the -manner in which her spouse had looked -grimly on, with an angry, yet not unsatisfied, -jerk of the head, as he, no doubt, was -thinking they 'had seen the last of Evan -Cameron.' -</p> - -<p> -The future! All that was vague to the -latter indeed. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap18"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVIII. -<br /><br /> -'IDIOTS ONLY WILL BE COZENED TWICE.' -</h3> - -<p> -It was on an August evening—the sun -had not set, but the sky was cloudy and -gloomy; the wind was high, and a heavy -sea was on at Spithead, and the conservatory -in which Olive was lingering and -selecting a button-hole of violets and -maiden-hair fern for Allan was so dark -already that the lamps were lighted in it. -She was dressed for a dinner-party, and -was looking charming—her best and -brightest—as she sang softly to herself -and wandered from one shelf of potted -flowers to another, when Allan suddenly -joined her, with an expression in his face -that was full of mingled sadness and -excitement, and with a telegram in his hand. -</p> - -<p> -'Allan, what has happened?' she asked, -changing colour, and with dire forebodings -in her heart. -</p> - -<p> -He caught her hands in his and tried to -smile. -</p> - -<p> -'Tell me, why are you so sad?' she -asked again. -</p> - -<p> -'Darling,' said he, as he drew her to his -breast, 'compose yourself; I have just had -great news—bad news you will deem them—to -tell you.' -</p> - -<p> -From these few speeches it may be -gathered that the cloud that hovered -between this pair of lovers had passed away, -and that sunshine had come again. -</p> - -<p> -They were at Puddicombe House, a villa -of Sir Paget's, which he had lent to Lord -Aberfeldie, and from the windows of which, -as it overlooked Stokes Bay and Spithead -from the Clarence Parade at Southsea, -they could daily see the departure of great -white 'troopers,' crowded with soldiers—Highlanders, -Rifles, and Marines—steaming -past the long line of the sea-wall (with -all its naval trophies and monuments) <i>en -route</i> for the shores of Egypt. -</p> - -<p> -There, too, were in view the three forts -in the Channel, with Puckpool Battery at -Spring Yale, which, with the other in a -line on the mainland, would effectually bar -an enemy's ship from reaching Portsmouth -Harbour. Ponderous indeed are these -forts—one in particular, a mass of circular -masonry, girt by a black belt of iron -armour, pierced with port-holes, through -which the great guns of 'the period' may -spit out shot and shell; and beyond lies -the peaceful Isle of Wight—a charming -stretch of sloping land, wooded to the -water's edge, and studded with beautiful -mansions. -</p> - -<p> -'You have bad news to tell me?' said -Olive, as the haunting terror that was ever -before her struck a pang to her heart. -</p> - -<p> -'I must rejoin my regiment at once; it -leaves the Castle of Edinburgh to-morrow -for Egypt, and I am to meet it at Woolwich, -where the transport awaits it. Oh, -how hard it is to part with you—even for -a time,' he added, caressing her, as her -head dropped upon his breast; 'to part -thus, and unmarried yet, Olive—after all -our past folly, jealousies, and waste of -time. Speak to me, darling!' -</p> - -<p> -'What can I say, Allan?' replied Olive, -piteously, as her tears fell fast. -</p> - -<p> -'We shall not go to this dinner-party -at the Port Admiral's, of course. Our -last evening must be spent together.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Allan, Allan!' -</p> - -<p> -'Take off those evil diamonds, -darling—those stones of ill omen. Why did -the mater let you wear them? They -are never produced without something -happening.' -</p> - -<p> -'And the transport sails—when?' -</p> - -<p> -'On Tuesday evening.' -</p> - -<p> -'So soon—so very soon!' -</p> - -<p> -'My darling—my own—don't weep so,' -said he, pressing her closer to his breast, -and nestling her face in his neck, while -he caressed and tried to soothe her; but -the impulsive Olive would neither be -soothed nor comforted for a time. -</p> - -<p> -When, however, she became calmer, he -said, -</p> - -<p> -'I must leave you for a few minutes. -I must telegraph to the adjutant, see the -mater, poor soul, and send apologies, as -we shall not go to the admiral's to-night.' -</p> - -<p> -He left her; and, sinking into a sofa, -she abandoned herself to a stormy fit of -weeping and to sad and bitter reflections, -and to many unavailing regrets—unavailing -now, as they were to be parted -so soon; and one grim and harrowing -fact stood darkly out amid them all—her -affianced lover was going to the seat of -war and disease, to face unnumbered perils -in that fatal land of Egypt! -</p> - -<p> -A slight sound roused her, and drew -her attention to a glass-door of the -conservatory that opened to the garden. -</p> - -<p> -A man's face seemed glued against it—a -face white and ghastly, apparently -regarding her fixedly—the face of Hawke -Holcroft, emaciated by dissipation, want, or -disease—probably by all three—his shifty -eyes bloodshot and wild in expression. -</p> - -<p> -In another moment she would have -screamed with terror; but he opened the -door, entered, and stood before her. -</p> - -<p> -'I never thought—at least, I was in -hope never to see you again,' said Olive, -starting up, and recoiling from him. -</p> - -<p> -'Ha—indeed. But in this world are -not those always meeting who are better -far apart?' was his mocking response. -</p> - -<p> -'What brings you here—what do you -want?' asked Olive, gathering courage -from desperation, and trembling in her -soul lest Allan should return and find -this villainous intruder there. -</p> - -<p> -'What do I want! Money. I am, and -have been for days, starving.' -</p> - -<p> -'Money I shall not be weak enough to -give you again, under any threat or any -pressure. The last I gave you cost me -dearly,' said Olive, firmly, though terrified -to find herself face to face with this -would-be assassin again. -</p> - -<p> -'You will not?' -</p> - -<p> -'No.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then give me these jewels—these -diamonds,' he said, hoarsely; and, ere she -could move or speak, he snatched up the -necklace and pendants from a pedestal -on which she had placed them, and thrust -them into his breast-pocket. 'For a time, -now, the work of art I possess shall be -withheld from the British public—but for -a time only—and in the memory of the -time when you loved me, or led me to -believe that you did.' -</p> - -<p> -'Insolent—how dare you say so?' she -exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -'You tried to win my heart, and won -it, too—you played with me fast and -loose, as you did with your cousin, for -whom you did not care one doit, then at -least, and for whom I believe you care -nothing now.' -</p> - -<p> -Olive glanced round her in dismay, for -should such words as these, and others -that followed them, reach listening ears, -she might be lost, and she was powerless -to stay the impetuous current of his -studiously mischievous speech. Moreover, -she did not see what Hawke Holcroft -saw behind some towering ferns and -other plants—a form, with firm-set teeth -and flashing eye, transported by fury, -while his feet were rooted to the -spot—the face of Allan Graham, who saw and -overheard, yet failed to comprehend the -situation! -</p> - -<p> -A vindictive desire to separate the lovers -if he could, and to humiliate the man he -hated, took possession of the diabolical -mind of Holcroft, who said, -</p> - -<p> -'Let me kiss your hand, Olive, but once -again, ere I leave you—I, whom you loved -once so well!' -</p> - -<p> -'Insolent!' exclaimed the girl, impetuously. -</p> - -<p> -But, ere she could resist him or escape, -he threw his arms round her, pressed her -to his breast, kissed her many times, and -then—as Allan sprang forward—he quitted -the conservatory, and vanished into the -gloom outside, while, with a low wail of -horror and distress at the shameful affront -put upon her, Olive covered her face with -her tremulous hands, and murmured, -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, this is too much to endure!' -</p> - -<p> -'Too much, indeed,' said a voice, as a -heavy hand grasped her shoulder, and she -was swung round with a force that was -almost rude, to meet the white face and -flaming eyes of Allan. -</p> - -<p> -'Allan,' she exclaimed, piteously, and -held out her hands. -</p> - -<p> -'Stand off and touch me not,' he cried. -'Idiots only will be cozened twice,' he -added, unconsciously quoting Dryden. -</p> - -<p> -He gave her an awful and withering -glance, and, snatching up a heavy stick, he -dashed into the garden after the intruder, -whom he saw in the act of escaping by a -gate that opened upon the common, across -which he fled like a hare, pursued closely -by Allan Graham, whom, as an active -mountaineer and trained soldier, he was not -likely to escape. -</p> - -<p> -The sun had set amid dim and lurid -clouds; the evening was gloomy, close, and -stormy; the bellowing of the ocean could -be heard along the whole line of the -sea-wall, from the Spur Redoubt to Southsea -Castle. A heavy gale from the offing was -rolling the waves in their force and fury -upon the shore, where, in anticipation -thereof, the boats and bathing machines -were all drawn up high and dry upon the -shelving shingle. The shipping at anchor -were straining on their cables, and sheet -lightning, red and fiery, threw forward in -black outline from time to time the -undulating curves of the Isle of Wight. -</p> - -<p> -But Allan Graham saw none of these -things; he only saw the fugitive Holcroft, -who ran madly towards the sea-shore, and -disappeared round the angle of the East -Battery that overhangs the sea, closely -followed by his infuriated pursuer. -</p> - -<p> -'What has happened, Olive—speak?' -said Lady Aberfeldie, who was completely -bewildered by the condition in which she -found Olive, and bitterly regretting the -absence of her husband, who was then in -London; and Olive, feeling now the -unwisdom and futility of further -concealment, told her all about the power -Holcroft had wielded over her by working -on her pride, shame, and fear, and how, -by direct acting, he had too probably -achieved the very end which the evil -prompting of a moment had doubtless -suggested—the placing of herself in a -false position with Allan, and causing a -hopeless quarrel and separation between -them. -</p> - -<p> -'And now that he has left me thus, -auntie, I shall never see him again!' cried -Olive, while, burying her face in her hands, -she wept bitterly. 'I shall never forget -how pallid his poor face became, and how -his eyes glared with fury through their -unshed tears; and never shall I forget the -gaze of tenderness, astonishment, and -reproach that came into them as he turned -from me in bitter silence.' -</p> - -<p> -'It is very unfortunate,' said Lady -Aberfeldie, with difficulty restraining her own -tears, though buoyed up by indignation at -the daring and insolence of Holcroft; 'but -Allan will return in a few minutes, and I -shall undertake to explain the whole -affair.' -</p> - -<p> -But the time passed on; hour succeeded -hour, till midnight struck, and aunt and -niece sat watching each other with pale -and anxious faces, for there was no -appearance of Allan. -</p> - -<p> -They supposed that in his first gust of -anger he had gone to some club or hotel, -and would, when in a calmer frame of -mind, return on the morrow; but the -morrow had passed into evening, and he -returned no more! -</p> - -<p> -Olive felt that he and she were roughly -rent asunder, and likely to drift further -and further apart on the stormy sea of life. -</p> - -<p> -And now to account for his non-appearance. -</p> - -<p> -Aware that he had no mercy to expect -between the hands of Allan on one side, -and those of the police on the other, Hawke -Holcroft thought only of escape, and, -dreading flight towards the town, in the -blindness of his terror or confusion he -turned towards the sea, and ran along the -summit of the steep, rocky, and abruptly -shelving bank that is overlooked by the -low earthen-works and square, squat -tower of Southsea Castle. -</p> - -<p> -Finding Allan close upon him, so close -that he could almost hear his footsteps, -amid the bellowing of the wind and -booming of the sea that rolled in white foam -against the stone parapet wall which was -bordered by the narrow pathway he was -compelled to pursue, he suddenly turned -in blind desperation and levelled a revolver -at Allan's head, while a tiger-like fury -filled his sallow visage. -</p> - -<p> -It snapped, hung fire, and was struck -from his hand by Allan, on which he turned -again and fled into the grey obscurity, -whither Allan could not follow him now, -as the sea with a succession of angry roars -was lashing the steep stony bank and -hurling its spray over the parapet wall, -while wave after wave boiled over all the -path the fugitive had to pursue. -</p> - -<p> -Again and again he saw the miserable -wretch lose his footing, while the waves -tried to suck him down, and again and -again, clinging with despairing energy to -the edge of the stony path, he strove to -recover it. -</p> - -<p> -A low wailing cry of despair escaped -him as one wave towering higher than all -the rest—perhaps a tenth wave, if there be -such a thing—enveloped him in its foamy -flood and sucked him furiously downward -in its back-wash, amid which he seemed to -struggle feebly as a fly might have done. -</p> - -<p> -Once or twice Allan saw his head bobbing -amid the white foam and his upthrown -hands, that had nothing to clutch at, till -the waves dashed him again and again, as if -in wild sport, among a row of great wooden -dolphins which are placed in the shingle -there to break the fury of the incoming sea, -and stand up like a line of gigantic teeth, -and in less than a minute Hawke Holcroft -vanished from sight! -</p> - -<p> -Then a long breath escaped Allan. -</p> - -<p> -'The sea has done it not I, though -richly did he merit at my hands the fate he -has met,' thought he, as he hurried away -to alarm the sentinels and castle guard; -but all too late to succour Holcroft in any -way or even to search for his body. -</p> - -<p> -Darkness had set in now, the fury of -the sea was increasing, and if Hawke -Holcroft was found at all, it would be as a -drowned man, with the fatal diamonds in -his possession, when the tide ebbed and the -long stretch of seaweed and shingle was -left dry. -</p> - -<p> -But he might never be found at all, -and lie, as the skeletons are still lying -there, among the timbers of the <i>Royal -George</i>. -</p> - -<p> -Allan knew that he was due with his -regiment at Woolwich on the morrow, and, -being full of rage and bitter disappointment -with disgust at the whole of this -recent event—too full to have explanations -with his mother, or hear aught that Olive -Raymond might, as he naturally thought, -be artful enough to advance, perhaps to -brazen out—intent only on quitting the -scene and, if possible, of forgetting a -situation so degrading and repugnant to his -pride—he resolved to write to his father -renouncing his cousin for ever; and, -throwing himself into a cab, drove straight to -the railway station and took the first train -to London. -</p> - -<p> -Hence it was that he returned to Puddicombe -House no more. -</p> - -<p> -And as the train swept clanking along -the line, amid the monotony of its sound -the words of Olive's song, with what he -deemed her accursed raillery underlying -them, came gallingly back to his memory, -with painful reiteration, -</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><br /></p> - -<p> -'And for what a wretched creature she -has dared to fool me!' he thought, while -a bitter malediction hovered on his lips. -</p> - -<p> -In due time, with all his comrades of -the Black Watch, he found himself on -board the <i>Nepaul</i>, and, after she had -steamed out of the Albert Dock, amid the -deafening cheers of thousands, even amid all -the bustle and high military enthusiasm -that surrounded him, he felt half mad with -grief, mortification, and fury. -</p> - -<p> -Night and day his mind was full of -angry and bitter dreams; a conviction of -Olive's guilt and the shame of her discovery -were ever before him. -</p> - -<p> -Brave young Allan Graham was stricken -to the heart; yet he bore himself graciously -and gallantly, though a conviction -grew strong in his mind that he would -find his grave in the land he was going -to. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap19"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIX. -<br /><br /> -IN THE LAND OF THE PHARAOHS. -</h3> - -<p> -Ismailia, by the Lake of Timsah, lay -steeped in sunshine, while the regiments -of the Highland Brigade, for the second -time, after the lapse of eighty years, -landed upon Egyptian soil again. -</p> - -<p> -Built equi-distant from Port Said and -Suez, this new town protects the outlet of -the second canal, which carries the supply -of fresh water from the Nile near Cairo to -the Isthmus. In 1862 the place where it -stands was a scene of sandy desolation. -Seven years later saw a brilliant little -French town in existence with a broad -quay, bordering the lake, with hotels, cafés, -a theatre where vaudevilles were acted, a -street of well-stocked shops, a public -garden with a fountain spouting Nile water -in the Place Champollion, the telegraph -wires overhead, and the bells of a Christian -church ringing, where, but a short time -before, the wandering Bedouin, the nomadic -dweller in tents, the child of the desert, -with glittering spear and floating burnous, -urged his camel on its solitary way from -Ramses to Serapium. -</p> - -<p> -The heat was intense, and to the eyes -of the Scottish mountaineers the scenery -about Ismailia seemed intensely monotonous. -Cloudless skies of the deepest and -richest blue formed a contrast to the vast -expanse of yellow sand that stretched far, -far away till lost in hazy distance, but the -desert is susceptible of many shades and -changes of colour. -</p> - -<p> -It is said that at Ismailia the stranger -can very fully realise the purity, the balm, -and beauty of the Egyptian night, especially -if seated over wine and a cigar in the -Hôtel des Voyageurs, where he may watch -the Lake of Timsah, and so varied are the -tints of the latter in the light of the red sun -setting in the west, amid a lurid glow of -gold and crimson, that it looks like three -lakes; towards the canal that leads to -Serapium it seems a deep blue; where the -ships are grouped near Ismailia, its -wavelets seem silver with gold, while the moon -comes slowly up like a silver dawn, and -rosy tints yet linger when the sun has -gone abruptly down. -</p> - -<p> -But no time was given to the Highlanders -either to study scenery or artistic -effects, even if so disposed. Each -regiment was rapidly formed in column—every -officer and man in his fighting kit, -with tropical helmet, haversack, and water -bottle; the men with their valises and -greatcoats, and the march began towards -the desert where the Egyptians of Arabi -awaited them at Tel-el-Kebir. -</p> - -<p> -Little was talked of then but the recent -cavalry fight at Kassassin, where our Life -Guards swept the ranks of Arabi's -infantry, and where a horde of wild -Bedouins, who had been hovering near the -field like birds of prey, after their -departure poured in to strip and rob the dead -and wounded of both armies, killing all -who were able to resist. -</p> - -<p> -The mess—or regiment rather, as there -was no mess now—saw that Allan Graham -had come back a sorely changed man, who -had hours of evident depression alternated -by furious hilarity—not the man's old -style at all; but his world, like Hamlet's, -was 'out of joint.' The conduct of Olive -Raymond yet remained a profound, an -unexplained and exasperating mystery to -him; but he felt, how bitterly, that love -lives even after trust and faith are dead -and buried; and now that he was so far, -far away from her, dreams of a yearning -and sorrowful kind, with many stinging -thoughts, that he feared would never leave -him, filled his mind as he marched at the -head of his company towards the darkening -desert. -</p> - -<p> -In his looks and manner, Evan Cameron, -like others, read a marked yet undefinable -change; his bearing now was occasionally -haughty and reserved; at other times his -eyes seemed strangely sad. What could -have happened? Cameron did not ask, -and as yet Allan said nothing about it; -and, sooth to say, in his own thoughts of -Eveline, the former had cause to be sad -enough too. -</p> - -<p> -His memories were ever of the days at -Dundargue, and the chance parting in the -belvidere at Maviswood; and again her -kisses, the touch of her little caressing -hands, with her voice came vividly to -him. -</p> - -<p> -In some of the last papers that had -reached the transport, <i>viâ</i> the Continent, -he could see that she was leading a life of -outward gaiety. Could he doubt that it -was otherwise than outward? He -gathered a sombre satisfaction from the -thought, and then strove to set it aside -as selfish. -</p> - -<p> -Why should she not enjoy balls and -flowers-shows, races and regattas, the -drawing-room at Buckingham Palace, and -other brilliant gatherings? Yet as he -read of these things a frown of mingled -anger, sorrow, and even mockery gathered -on his brow in spite of himself. -</p> - -<p> -In the same papers Allan could discover -no trace of any body having been cast upon -the beach either at Southsea or the shore of -the Isle of Wight, and hence he supposed -that the remains of the drowned Holcroft -must have been taken out to sea. -</p> - -<p> -The Highland enthusiasm, the warlike -spirit that blazed up within him, kept him -from a great despair, for latterly his love -for Olive had become a part of his own -existence. -</p> - -<p> -The novelty of the land in which our -new campaign had opened, the incessant -watchfulness, the time and attention each -duty brought with it, all gave him a -recklessness as to life and as to fear of -death, that after a time won him the -involuntary admiration of the Black Watch -and the whole Highland Brigade. -</p> - -<p> -Just as the sun set, the bugles sounded -a 'halt' after a march of six miles, but six -terrible miles they were, for at every step -the Highlanders sank ankle-deep in the -soft and sun-dried sand. -</p> - -<p> -All around that halting-place a sea of -the latter seemed to stretch in every -direction, bare and desolate, save where -Ismailia lay, its edifices looking inky, -black, and opaque in outline against the -orange and primrose sky; and black -looked the masts of the transports as they -rose like a forest amid the waters of the -Lake of Timsah. -</p> - -<p> -When the first bivouac was formed at -El-Magfar, the bare-kneed Highlanders, -each rolled in his blanket on the soft -sand, slept comfortably enough; but with -morning came the first instalment of -misery, when the heavy dew that soaks -everything left them cold and stiff, and -longing even for the fierce unclouded sun -again. -</p> - -<p> -'A devil of a country this,' said -Carslogie. 'By day it is too hot to eat, to -act, or even to think; and at night it is -too cold to sleep or think of anything but -the bitter cold itself.' -</p> - -<p> -And but for the hot tea made for all -over-night, when the brigade first came -to its camping-place, some injury to health -must have ensued; but the men were too -weary to eat even a biscuit, of which each -carried a two days' supply in the canvas -haversack that formed his only pillow. -</p> - -<p> -Before the sun was up, Allan rose from -the sand and looked about him. Under -the starlight the Highland bivouac—for -camp it was not—presented a curious -sight, as the men lay in ranks, each rolled -in his blanket, beside the piles of arms; -the sentinels of the out-piquets on the way -to Tel-el-Mahuta standing dark and -motionless against the blue of the sky, -looking in kilt and helmet like the statues of -ancient Romans. -</p> - -<p> -To get a little warmth ere the pipers -blew the 'rouse,' he walked a short -distance from where the men of his company -lay, and near a fragment of ruined wall, -beside which grew a patch of those prickly -plants (round which hillocks of sand -occasionally gather), and a solitary gum-tree -grew, he found, rolled up in a burnous, -and evidently concealing himself in dread -and fear, a Bedouin. There was a small -palm-grove near Magfar; why did he not -seek hiding there? -</p> - -<p> -'Hallo, my man,' thought Allan, 'what -are you lurking here for?—mischief, no -doubt.' -</p> - -<p> -He drew his claymore, supposing the -lurker could be but a spy who had crept -within our chain of sentries; but the wild -son of the desert raised his hands -deprecatingly, and, opening his burnous, showed -that he was perishing from a dreadful -wound—a sword cut that had laid open -his right shoulder and breast. -</p> - -<p> -Allan put his brandy-flask to the -sufferer's lips, raising his head as he did -so, and then addressed him inquiringly. -Allan had picked up some Arabic in India, -and thus could understand the Bedouin, -who informed him that he had been wounded -thus, by one of those sons of Anak, our -Life-guardsmen, in the charge at Kassassin. -</p> - -<p> -'An Egyptian, by jingo!' exclaimed -Carslogie, who came up at that moment. -'Are you about to become a studier of -humanity?' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, Cuvier was great in the study of -wasps, and so forth. Why shouldn't I -study Egyptians?' replied Allan, grimly, -'and this poor devil seems to have been -wounded in the affair at Kassassin the -other day.' -</p> - -<p> -'You understand him, then?' -</p> - -<p> -'Perfectly. Please bring one of the -staff surgeons quickly; he must have been -lying here when we took up our ground -over-night.' -</p> - -<p> -The Bedouin, whose astonishment that -he was not butchered on the instant was -great, stared alternately at Allan and at -Carslogie, who was a young fellow of the -best style, one whose fine face even the -hideous tropical helmet (which is such an -appalling substitute for the graceful feather -bonnet) could not spoil. His figure was -slight and elegant, his features clearly cut -and refined, and his bright brown chestnut -hair was close and curly. -</p> - -<p> -The Bedouin was a perfect type of his -race, and, save that he had a good -Remington rifle slung over his back, was not -much changed in habit, nature, or turn of -thought from his ancestors of the tribe of -Ishmael. -</p> - -<p> -Though weakened now by suffering and -great loss of blood, he seemed spare of -figure and light of limb, well-formed and -active, tall, but whether thirty or forty -years old it was impossible to say. He -had a long, thin, and expressive countenance, -with glittering black eyes and teeth -of pearly whiteness. His colour was a -dusky brown, his hair black and wiry. -</p> - -<p> -He was evidently a Bedouin of the desert, -as the two ends of the scarlet shawl which -formed his turban hung down upon the -shoulder, to distinguish him from the Arabs -of other tribes. He was clad in a thick -dark brown baracan of wool, which served -as a dress by day and a bed by night, over -which was a robe with wide sleeves. -</p> - -<p> -When the doctor was dressing his wound, -which was certainly a terrible sword-cut, -his richly embroidered girdle was seen, -and this announced him to be a sheikh, -and such he was proved to be, as Allan -gathered from him that his name was -Zeid el Ourdeh, the sheikh of a tribe near Jebel -Dimeshk, between the desert and the -disused railway to Heliopolis, 'the City of -the Sun;' and as he lay there in his -picturesque costume, with a group of -wondering Highlanders, in their dark kilts and -white helmets, gathered round him, and -the blood-red sun in the distance, coming -swiftly up out of the dry sand of the yellow -desert, as it seemed, Allan thought what a -subject was the whole for the pencil of an -artist. -</p> - -<p> -The Bedouin was on the point of fainting, -so great was the agony occasioned by -the dressing of his wound; but a mouthful -from Allan's flask revived him more -than it would have done one usually -accustomed to such stimulants. -</p> - -<p> -'Some sick men are going back to the -rear at Ismailia,' said Allan. 'Carslogie, -please to order the ambulance people to -come this way. I'll send this unfortunate -creature to the Third Field Hospital.' -</p> - -<p> -Carslogie paused to scrape a vesta and -light a cigar, which he proceeded to puff -with a sigh of satisfaction. -</p> - -<p> -'Quick, Carslogie,' cried Allan. 'We -have no time to lose. The bugles will -sound immediately.' -</p> - -<p> -And Carslogie went on his way with the -air of a man who thought the world would -be none the worse for having a Bedouin -the less in it. -</p> - -<p> -In his own language, and in terms peculiarly -his own, Allan could make out that -the sheikh was thanking him in a low and -earnest voice, and adding that while life -lasted he 'would always deem him as a -brother. You infidels are powerful as the -genii of old; you can flash a light at night -brilliant as that of the sun at noon; you -have another light that springs from the -unseen air. I have seen it in the streets -of Cairo' (no doubt referring to gas); 'and -you can send your thoughts from land to -land under the sea more swiftly than even -the Afrite did in the days of Solomon; -and I fear that from your hands the Egyptians -will suffer such chastisement as fell -on the people of Noah, of Ad, and of Thamud,' -he added, wearily and sadly, as his -head fell on one side. -</p> - -<p> -A party of the ambulance had now come, -and Allan informed him that he was to be -sent to Ismailia. He did more; he placed -some money in his hand wherewith to procure -necessaries, and, while the eyes of the -Bedouin gleamed with gratitude, his brown -mahogany and attenuated fingers closed -avariciously and tightly on such an unusual -gift as coins. -</p> - -<p> -''Pon my soul, Allan Graham,' said -Carslogie, 'considering how these rascals -treated our wounded at Kassassin, your -humanity, to say the least of it, seems to -me to be a little misplaced.' -</p> - -<p> -'Perhaps; but I cannot help it. I feel -a little tender-hearted just now,' said Allan, -with a smile, as the wounded Bedouin—of -whom he had not seen the last—was borne -away. -</p> - -<p> -The pipes struck up, and once more the -columns began a ten-miles' march to -Mahsameh. The Gordon Highlanders were in -advance, the Camerons next, then came -the Highland Light Infantry, and then the -Black Watch, all toiling through the soft, -deep sand. These splendid regiments were -all marching in massed columns, at one pace -interval, the cavalry moving with them -collaterally on one flank, and the artillery -on the other, clattering along, with spunges, -buckets, spare wheels, and forge waggons—all -forming a grand, impressive spectacle -in the midst of the wide Egyptian desert. -</p> - -<p> -To Scottish soldiers, who are usually -so well-grounded in their Bible history, -the soil they were treading, if the toil -made it disgusting on one hand, memory -made it full of deep interest on the other. -They knew that they were already in, or -were approaching, the Land of Goshen, -where, by the tasks they had conned at -school and those which their ministers -superintended, they were aware that they -were nigh unto the place where Jacob -dwelt of old, that he might be near to -Joseph, who lived at Pharaoh's court; -near to the place where father and son -met, and where we still find Rameses, -which was built by the Israelites in the -days of their bondage; and, as our soldiers -marched on, some there were who recalled -these things to each other, as their -minds went back to the village kirk, whose -bells awoke the echoes of green and lonely -glens, and to the firesides of their fathers, -when expounding on these things on -Saturday night, when the 'big ha' Bible' -was produced; and, though they might -yawn wearily over such matters at home, -these scriptural names and localities had -a very different effect upon them now. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap20"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XX. -<br /><br /> -THE MARCH THROUGH GOSHEN. -</h3> - -<p> -On, and on, and on, through the same -kind of Egyptian landscape—tame, barren, -and insipid—so terribly vapid and flatly -horrid, when compared with the Salvatoresque -hills and glens of their native -land—the naked plain, bounded by -occasional hillocks at vast distances—the -toilsome march of the Highlanders continued. -Yet there are luxuriant plains in some -parts of the Land of Goshen. -</p> - -<p> -Sometimes date-trees were seen, with -trunks bare and slender, or mud-walled -wigwams on the causeways; but it is a -land that, with all its vast antiquity and -religious associations, of which no poet -has ever sung. 'What, indeed, could an -Egyptian sing on the reed of Gesner or -Theocritus?' asks Volney. 'He sees -neither limpid streams, nor verdant lawns, -nor solitary caves; and is equally a -stranger to valleys, mountain-sides, and -impending rocks.' Miss Martineau is -almost the only traveller who claims for -Egypt the attributes of the picturesque -and varied in beauty! -</p> - -<p> -And there were incessant swarms of -scorpions, gnats, and more especially of -flies—one of the many plagues of -Egypt—which were so numerous that it was -impossible to eat the dry ration biscuits -without the chance of swallowing these -pests also. -</p> - -<p> -More than once, on the summit of a -sandy hillock, there would appear, sharply -defined against the clear blue sky, the -picturesque figure of a mounted Bedouin, -with his white burnous floating about him, -a tall, reed-like spear, or a long musket -slung by his side—a man unchanged in -aspect or ideas from his nomadic -forefathers, who saw the mailed Crusaders -toiling on their way to Jerusalem—gazing -with stolid wonder at the marching -columns in a costume so strange, with -bare knees, white sporrans, and kilts of -dark-green tartan waving at every step; -while on the hot and breathless air there -was borne towards him the hoarse and -shrill music of the pipes—the same wild -music that, eighty years before, woke the -echoes of the Pyramids and of the streets -of Grand Cairo. -</p> - -<p> -But what land in the world has not -echoed to their music? -</p> - -<p> -All our soldiers were more or less full -of enthusiasm—anxious to get at Arabi—to -grapple with the enemy, 'and get -the business over,' as they phrased it; -though it is doubtful if they quite believed -in Sir Garnet Wolseley's apparently boastful -prediction that the war would be -ended by the 16th of that month, September. -</p> - -<p> -In the exuberance of their spirits, many -chorussed merrily when the pipes ceased, -which was seldom, lilting as, a writer says, -only 'the song-loving Scots' can do, as -in the days when their country was -redolent of song, when the milk-maid sang -some old chant to her cows in field or -byre, when the house-wife span at her -ingle-neuk, when the reapers filled the -harvest-field with melody, and the -ploughman in winter when he turned the -glistening furrows over the lea. -</p> - -<p> -And now and anon the Bedouin scouts -would wheel their horses round and vanish -ere our cavalry could reach them to bear -to Tel-el-Kebir the terrible tidings, as -some said, 'that devils in petticoats' were -coming, and, as others asserted, 'devils -with beards down to their knees.' -</p> - -<p> -Every man had one hundred rounds of -ball-cartridge and his bottle filled with -water from the Canal, called by the -soldiers jocularly 'Egyptian soup,' from its -hue and quality; thus a ration of rum, -when it was served out, proved very -acceptable, though some there were who -did not much affect the cold tea, and Allan -could not help smiling at a little argument -that ensued between Corporal MacSnish -of his company and one of the Scripture-readers, -who, to their honour, be it said, -kept up with the troops, went under fire -with them, and after the conflict did all in -their power to alleviate the sufferings of -the wounded. -</p> - -<p> -'Don't grumble, corporal,' said the -Scripture-reader, 'though I know it is a -soldier's privilege. He who paints the -lilies of the field and feeds the sparrow -will supply all you want.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oich, I hope so, whateffer; but a -corporal of the Black Watch is worth a good -many sparrows, I can tell you, and as for -the cold tea—ugh!' -</p> - -<p> -'Better for you than all the liquor in -the world, my man,' said the Scripture-reader. -</p> - -<p> -'Even the worst whusky, whateffer, -would be better to my mind; and we have -Scripture for it that we should not drink -water alone.' -</p> - -<p> -'Indeed!' said the reader, doubtfully. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes,' urged the corporal, who knew his -Bible well; 'are we not told in Maccabees, -chapter xv. and verse 39, that "it is -hurtful to drink wine or water alone, as wine -mingled with water is pleasant and -delighteth the taste?"' -</p> - -<p> -'For all that,' replied the Scripture-reader, -'I agree with Sir Garnet that -water is alone the drink for man.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yet the only man that Holy Writ -records as ever asking for it, didn't get it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Who was <i>he</i>?' -</p> - -<p> -'Dives, and we all know where <i>he</i> was -then. Scripture again!' said the corporal, -with a smirk on his sharp Highland face, -and thinking he had decidedly the best of -the argument. -</p> - -<p> -During a mid-day halt on this march, -some of the troops constructed out of -blankets and rifles with fixed bayonets -erections like gipsy tents, to shelter them -from the blazing heat of the sun, and a -singular kind of encampment they presented. -</p> - -<p> -With ship biscuits and tinned meat and -some brandy to flavour their cold tea, -Allan Graham, Cameron, Carslogie, and -some other officers of the corps made -themselves as comfortable as they could -under shelter of their impromptu tents, -and many were even jolly, especially -Carslogie, who was rather a noisy and -irrepressible fellow. -</p> - -<p> -Stretched on the sand with his tropical -helmet tilted back on his head, he drank -his 'cold tea,' as he called it, though it -was stiff half-and-half grog, and proffered -his cigar-case to all. -</p> - -<p> -'Isn't this jolly!' he exclaimed. 'Instead -of this, we might have been out in -the blazing open.' -</p> - -<p> -Then he struck up a verse of a song to -the air of the 'Garb of Old Gaul,' and -composed by an anonymous writer, though -he hinted it was Mr. John Bright:— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'They talk of a good time, when warfare shall cease,<br /> - And the nations hobnob o'er a big pipe of peace,<br /> - And the lion and the lamb in auriferous mead<br /> - On bills of exchange in beatitude feed.<br /> - But keep your powder dry, my boys, and keep your bayonets keen;<br /> - The world can't do without us yet, nor will it soon, I ween!<br /> - Then stern and true, where work's to do, we'll do it as we can,<br /> - And shoulder to shoulder still march in the van!'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -'The good time predicted seems a long -way off yet,' he added, with a sigh, to find -that the last of his grog was gone, for -after a hot morning's march it was, as he -said, 'quite a Sybaritish luxury.' 'Well, -well, a little time will find us face to face -with Arabi, and we shall exchange the -fleshpots of Egypt for those of the old -country.' -</p> - -<p> -This was the 11th of September, and -the march was resumed at five in the -evening for the head-quarters at Kassassin, -where the column found its tents pitched. -Allan shared his with Cameron, and, like -their comrades, they proceeded to make -themselves as comfortable as they could; -but it soon became known that on the -morrow the Highland Brigade was to lead -in the night attack upon the formidable -entrenchments of Arabi Pasha at Tel-el-Kebir. -</p> - -<p> -'The last bugle some of us may ever -hear will sound at six to-morrow evening,' -said Allan, as he and Cameron, after a -picnic kind of repast, lay on the floor of -the tent and smoked their Havanas, with -their jackets open, and minus collars and -ties, for the evening was hot then, though -cold and dew came together the moment -the sun went down, and then there was no -light in the tent save those of the stars. -</p> - -<p> -'Listen to Carslogie singing in his -tent; no sombre reflections seem to come -to him,' said Cameron. -</p> - -<p> -'Some of us, of course, will lose the -number of our mess, as the sailors say,' -said Allan again, after a pause. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, it is not a cheerful thought, -Allan,' said Cameron; 'but life is not -particularly rosy with me just now, so I am -just the fellow to have a charmed one when -under fire again to-morrow.' -</p> - -<p> -'There is a history in all men's lives, -Cameron, it is said. Well, there is a devil -of a lot in mine—more than I care for.' -</p> - -<p> -'You have long seemed rather low in -spirit.' -</p> - -<p> -'I have reason,' replied Allan, while -that inexpressible longing to talk of -himself and his sorrows, which seizes upon -men now and then, came upon him, and he -related to Cameron the whole story of his -engagement with his cousin, his doubts -and fears—the intrusions and outrageous -insults put upon them both by Hawke -Holcroft, who seemed to wield some -degrading and mysterious power once—a -power that was ended now; 'and,' he added, -after his narrative was ended, 'I trust -under heaven never to look upon her false -fair face again!' -</p> - -<p> -Cameron heard his strange story in silent -amazement. -</p> - -<p> -'Can all this not be explained?' he asked. -</p> - -<p> -'I want no explanation; I have been -degraded enough,' replied Allan, bitterly. -</p> - -<p> -Cameron, strangely enough, had never, -as yet, even to his early friend and -comrade, made any reference to what the -latter fully knew—his love for Eveline: and -never once had her name escaped him -during the long voyage in the Nepaul -from Woolwich to Ismailia, nor even on -the march towards the enemy. -</p> - -<p> -Poor Cameron had thought, what was -the use of speaking of that matter now, -when all was hopeless—all over, and for -ever, between them? But now, encouraged -or melted by Allan Graham's new -confidence in himself, he said, -</p> - -<p> -'With reference to the risks we run -tomorrow, I am glad that I set my house in -order, did so, indeed, before we marched -from Edinburgh.' -</p> - -<p> -'How?' -</p> - -<p> -'About Stratherroch, or what remains -of it.' -</p> - -<p> -'In what way, Evan?' -</p> - -<p> -We must all die sooner or later—a -soldier sooner, perhaps, than a civilian; so -by will, if aught happens to me—I have -left the old place—tower and hill, wood, -glen, and water, to—to Eveline—I mean -to Lady Paget.' -</p> - -<p> -'Good heavens! To Eveline!' exclaimed -Allan, his face full of a surprise that -was unseen in the starlight and darkened -bell tent.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Have you no one else?' -</p> - -<p> -'None save my brother Duncan, who has -himself a large fortune—none whom I love -as—as I love her,' added Cameron, in a -very broken voice. -</p> - -<p> -'Poor Evan! I always suspected—indeed, -knew of it.' -</p> - -<p> -'You did?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Evan.' -</p> - -<p> -'And—and your sister.' -</p> - -<p> -'She loved you.' -</p> - -<p> -'My God!—yet was sacrificed to another.' -</p> - -<p> -They wrung each other's hands in the -dark, and both remained silent for a time, -each full of his own thoughts, and in the -gloom seeing nothing but the end of -the other's cigar. -</p> - -<p> -'Sir Paget is so rich that he will think -little of Stratherroch, even when cleared -of its heavy encumbrances,' said Evan. -</p> - -<p> -'But he may think rather wrathfully of -the donor, though I trust and hope he may -never get it. And now, good-night, Evan. -I have to parade the inlying picquet. Get -some sleep if you can, old fellow—we'll -need all our metal on the morrow.' -</p> - -<p> -And Allan, taking his dirk and claymore, -hurried away full of thought, for, if -his friend really fell, this odd bequest of -Stratherroch might compromise his sister -with her elderly spouse, and it was -impossible to make any change, circumstanced -as they were then. -</p> - -<p> -'It is said that "every man has a history, -and that every man outlives it,"' -thought Allan; 'I wonder how it will be -with poor Evan and me. And now to -parade the picquet, with that paragon of -sergeant-majors, M'Neill. Picquets -parade at sunset—here, however, the sun -sets before we have time to think of it. -But the fight to-morrow will be to Evan -and me—for a time, at least—what opium -was to De Quincey and the author of the -"Ancient Mariner." Fool, fool, fool that -I am, to think of <i>her</i> here at all!' -</p> - -<p> -He left Evan Cameron inspired by a -mingled emotion of gratitude and satisfaction, -for Evan now knew and felt certain -that, had Eveline been in Allan's gift, -she might have been his bride ere this; and -with this conviction in his mind he strove to -court sleep, while roused ever and anon, as -in India, by the wild cry of the jackal. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Garnet Wolseley had now come up, -the brigade of guards also, and the whole -strength of the British force was -concentrated at Kassassin, the place of our -cavalry victory, where our horse so gallantly -charged and swept, sword in hand, -through the brigades of Egyptian guns in -the dark. -</p> - -<p> -With the next day's dawn those officers, -who, like the Master of Aberfeldie, -Cameron, and others, advanced beyond a palm -wood that grew near the camp, could -distinctly see with their field-glasses, against -the bright orange tint shed on the sky by -the up-coming sun, the strong earthworks -of Tel-el-Kebir crowning the hillocks, and -manned by more than twenty thousand -regular troops—the flower of the army of -Arabi, who commanded them in person; -and when the sun rose higher the infantry -could be seen lining the trenches, with all -their serried bayonets flashing in the -sunshine. -</p> - -<p> -Beyond these formidable earthworks the -Egyptian camp could be seen in the -distance spreading far away an almost -unbroken line of tents, which, if they had all -occupants, betokened the presence of a very -great force indeed, as more than one -reconnoitring officer remarked to another. -</p> - -<p> -Many were full of disappointment lest -there might be no fighting after all, as the -preceding morning the sound of heavy -firing had been heard in the rear of the -Egyptian position, and there seemed a -prospect of internal dissension facilitating -a dissolution of the whole enemy's -force. -</p> - -<p> -Others more wisely suggested that Arabi -was only practising his artillery to -obtain the range in case his position was -turned and attacked in the rear, though -some asserted that the deep booming of -the guns was too steady and continuous -for mere practice of that nature. -</p> - -<p> -The British troops had only a five days' -reserve of provisions, but it was generally -known that the country was rich and full -of subsistence beyond the lines of -Tel-el-Kebir, and that we would carry these no -man under Wolseley doubted. Moreover, -he had with him sixty of the finest pieces -of cannon in the world. -</p> - -<p> -The day passed on, and evening drew -nigh, the eventful day of the 12th -September, when every man was prepared to -'do or die!' Higher and higher beat -every heart. At six p.m. the 'fall in' was -sounded far along the lines, and quietly, -as if upon parade at home, that stately -soldier M'Neill, sergeant-major of the -Black Watch, paraded and posted the -markers for the various companies of his -corps, 'dressing' them with his usual accuracy. -</p> - -<p> -The orders were brief but emphatic. -Perfect silence was to be maintained for -the march, and, as the place was to be -carried in grand old British style at the -point of the bayonet, on no account was an -order to load to be issued. -</p> - -<p> -Each man carried a hundred rounds of -ball with one day's provisions, and his tin -water-bottle filled with cold tea. The -tents were struck, and the baggage piled -for conveyance to the rear, in case of a -reverse, which no man thought possible. -</p> - -<p> -The blood-red sun went swiftly down -westward of the point of attack beyond -Zagazig, darkness fell as swiftly over the -desert and the triple lines of canal that -flow between both Mahsameh and Abassa, -and then our army, fourteen thousand -strong, including foot, horse, and artillery, -began in silence the midnight march for -Tel-el-Kebir, the last march as it proved to -many a brave young fellow. -</p> - -<p> -As the regiment moved off, Allan -thought of Evan Cameron's communication -over-night, and an irrepressible regret and -anxiety took possession of him, as he had -an unaccountable presentiment that his -friend was doomed to fall in the coming -strife. Of himself he never thought at all. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -END OF THE SECOND 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 II (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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