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diff --git a/old/68293-h/68293-h.htm b/old/68293-h/68293-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 163fb55..0000000 --- a/old/68293-h/68293-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10496 +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="icon" href="images/img-cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" /> - -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" /> - -<title> -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Dulcie Carlyon, Volume 1, 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> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Dulcie Carlyon, Volume I (of 3), by James Grant</p> -<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:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Dulcie Carlyon, Volume I (of 3)</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>A novel</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: James Grant</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 11, 2022 [eBook #68293]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Al Haines</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DULCIE CARLYON, VOLUME I (OF 3) ***</div> - -<h1> -<br /><br /> - DULCIE CARLYON.<br /> -</h1> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> - A Novel.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - BY<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t2"> - JAMES GRANT,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t3"> - AUTHOR OF 'THE ROMANCE OF WAR,' ETC.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - IN THREE VOLUMES.<br /> -<br /> - VOL. I.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - LONDON:<br /> - WARD AND DOWNEY,<br /> - 12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN.<br /> -<br /> - 1886.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t4"> - [<i>All Rights Reserved.</i>]<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -NEW NOVELS AT EVERY LIBRARY. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> -FROM THE SILENT PAST. By Mrs. HERBERT MARTIN. 2 Vols. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -COWARD AND COQUETTE. By the Author of 'The Parish of Hilby.' 1 vol. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -MIND, BODY, AND ESTATE. By the Author of 'Olive Varcoe.' 3 vols. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -AT THE RED GLOVE. By KATHARINE S. MACQUOID. 3 vols. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -WHERE TEMPESTS BLOW. By the Author of 'Miss Elvester's Girls.' 3 vols. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -IN SIGHT OF LAND. By Lady DUFFUS HARDY. 3 vols. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -AS IN A LOOKING-GLASS. By F. C. PHILIPS. 1 vol. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -LORD VANECOURT'S DAUGHTER. By MABEL COLLINS. 3 vols. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -WARD AND DOWNEY, PUBLISHERS, LONDON. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -In Loving Memory -<br /> -OF -<br /> -MY ELDEST SON, -</p> - -<p class="t3b"> -JAMES SIMPSON GRANT, -</p> - -<p class="t4"> -<i>Captain Cheshire Regiment,</i> -</p> - -<p class="t3"> -I INSCRIBE -<br /> -THIS MILITARY STORY. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -CONTENTS OF VOL. I. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> -CHAPTER -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -I. <a href="#chap01">IN THE HOWE OF THE MEARNS</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -II. <a href="#chap02">WEDDED</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -III. <a href="#chap03">THE SPURNED OFFER</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -IV. <a href="#chap04">REVELSTOKE COTTAGE</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -V. <a href="#chap05">DULCIE</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -VI. <a href="#chap06">THE SECRET PACKET</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -VII. <a href="#chap07">A FAREWELL</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -VIII. <a href="#chap08">THE SILVER LOCKET</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -IX. <a href="#chap09">MR. KIPPILAW, W.S.</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -X. <a href="#chap10">ALONE IN THE WORLD</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XI. <a href="#chap11">SHAFTO IN CLOVER</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XII. <a href="#chap12">VIVIAN HAMMERSLEY</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XIII. <a href="#chap13">AMONG THE GROUSE</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XIV. <a href="#chap14">THE TWO FINELLAS</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XV. <a href="#chap15">AT REVELSTOKE AGAIN</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XVI. <a href="#chap16">''TIS BUT THE OLD, OLD STORY'</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XVII. <a href="#chap17">AT CRAIGENGOWAN</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XVIII. <a href="#chap18">AT THE BUFFALO RIVER</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XIX. <a href="#chap19">ELANDSBERGEN</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XX. <a href="#chap20">BAFFLED!</a> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> - -<p class="t2"> -DULCIE CARLYON. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER I. -<br /><br /> -IN THE HOWE OF THE MEARNS. -</h3> - -<p> -'This will end in a scene, Fettercairn, and -you know how I hate scenes.' -</p> - -<p> -'So do I, they are such deuced bad form.' -</p> - -<p> -'I shall need all my self-possession to get -over the <i>esclandre</i> this affair may cause,' -exclaimed the lady, fanning herself violently. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, life is made up of getting over -things,' responded her husband. -</p> - -<p> -'But not things so disgraceful as this, -Fettercairn!' -</p> - -<p> -'Is this son of yours in his senses?' -</p> - -<p> -'Who is that loves? it has been asked,' -said the culprit referred to. -</p> - -<p> -'A marriage between you and a penniless -girl in her rank of life is not to be thought of, -Lennard.' -</p> - -<p> -'Her rank of life, father?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes!' -</p> - -<p> -'Her father's rank was superior to that of -the first of our family, when life began with -him.' -</p> - -<p> -'What is that to you or to me now?' -</p> - -<p> -'Much to me.' -</p> - -<p> -'Too much, it would seem.' -</p> - -<p> -The excited speakers were a Peer, Cosmo, -Lord Fettercairn, his wife, the Lady thereof, -and their youngest son, Lennard Melfort, a -captain of the line, home on leave from -India, who had been somewhat timidly -venturing to break—knowing the inordinate -family vanity of his parents—we say to break -the news of his love for a girl possessed of -more beauty than this world's goods; and, in -his excitement and indignation, his lordship's -usual easy, indolent, and drawling way was -forgotten now when addressing his son. -</p> - -<p> -Cosmo, Lord Fettercairn of that Ilk (and -Strathfinella in the Mearns) was by nature a -proud, cold, selfish, and calculating man, -whose chief passion in life was a combined -spirit of enormous vanity and acquisitiveness, -which he inherited from his predecessors, -whom he resembled in political caution and -selfishness, and also in personal appearance, -to judge from the portraits of three generations, -by Sir John de Medina, Aikman, and -Raeburn, adorning the walls of the stately -room in the house of Craigengowan, where -this rather stormy interview took place. -</p> - -<p> -Tall and thin in figure, with flat square -shoulders and sandy-coloured hair, cold grey -eyes, and irregular features, he was altogether -a contrast to his son Lennard, who inherited -his slightly aquiline nose and perfect face -from his mother, but his firm dark eyes and -rich brown hair from a previous generation; -and these, together with an olive complexion, -rendered more dusky by five years' exposure -to an Indian sun, made his aspect a very -striking one. -</p> - -<p> -My Lady Fettercairn's birth and breeding -were, as Sir Bernard Burke had recorded, -irreproachable, and she certainly seemed a -<i>grande dame</i> to the tips of her long slender -fingers. She was about forty-five years of -age, but looked ten younger. The upper -part of her aristocratic face was strikingly -handsome; but the lower, with its proud and -firm lips, was less pleasant to look at. Her -complexion was almost colourless, her hair -of the lightest brown, like her eyebrows and -lashes; while her eyes were clear and blue as -an Alpine sky, and, as Lennard often thought -with a sigh, they seemed quite as—cold. -</p> - -<p> -Her manner was always calm, assured, and -self-possessed. She would smile, but that -smile never degenerated into honest laughter, -while her pale and impressive face was -without a line—especially on her forehead—that -seemed to indicate either thought or -reflection, and certainly she had never known -care or sorrow or even annoyance until -now. -</p> - -<p> -'She is beautiful, mother,' urged the -young man, breaking an ominous silence, with -reference to the object of his love. -</p> - -<p> -'Perhaps; but she is not one of us,' -exclaimed Lady Fettercairn, cresting up her -handsome head haughtily, and a whole -volume of intense pride and hauteur was -centred in the last word she spoke. -</p> - -<p> -'Who is this Flora MacIan, as she calls -herself?' asked his father in a similar tone; -'but I need not ask. You have already told -us she is the governess in a house you have -been recently visiting—that of Lady -Drumshoddy—a governess, with all her beauty, poor -and obscure.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not so obscure,' said Lennard, a wave of -red passing under the tan of his olive cheek; -'her father was a gallant old officer of the -Ross-shire Buffs, who earned his V.C. at the -battle of Khooshab, in Persia, and her only -brother and support fell when leading on his -Grenadiers at the storming of Lucknow. The -old captain was, as his name imports, a cadet -of the Macdonalds of Glencoe.' -</p> - -<p> -'With a pedigree of his family, no doubt, -from the grounding of the Ark to the battle -of Culloden,' sneered his father. -</p> - -<p> -'Then his family would end soon after ours -began,' retorted the son, becoming greatly -ruffled now. 'You know, father, we can't -count much beyond three generations ourselves.' -</p> - -<p> -Lord Fettercairn, wounded thus in his -sorest point, grew white with anger. -</p> - -<p> -'We always suspected you of having some -secret, Lennard,' said his mother severely. -</p> - -<p> -'Ah, mother, unfortunately, as some one -says, a secret is like a hole in your coat—the -more you try to hide it, the more it is seen.' -</p> - -<p> -'An aphorism, and consequently vulgar; -does <i>she</i> teach you this style of thing?' asked -the haughty lady, while Lennard reddened -again with annoyance, and gave his dark -moustache a vicious twist, but sighed and -strove to keep his temper. -</p> - -<p> -'I have found and felt it very bitter, father, -to live under false colours,' said he gently and -appealingly, 'and to keep that a secret from -you both, which should be no secret at all.' -</p> - -<p> -'We would rather not have heard this -secret,' replied Lord Fettercairn sternly, while -tugging at his sandy-coloured mutton-chop -whiskers. -</p> - -<p> -'Then would you have preferred that I -should be deceitful to you, and false to the -dear girl who loves and trusts me?' -</p> - -<p> -'I do not choose to consider <i>her</i>,' was the -cold reply. -</p> - -<p> -'But I do, and must, now!' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because we are already married—she is -my wife,' was the steady response. -</p> - -<p> -'Married!' exclaimed his father and mother -with one accord, as they started from their -chairs together, and another ominous silence -of a minute ensued. -</p> - -<p> -'My poor, lost boy—the prey of an artful -minx!' said Lady Fettercairn, looking as if -she would like to weep; but tears were rather -strangers to her cold blue eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'Mother, dear mother, if you only knew -her, you would not talk thus of Flora,' urged -Lennard almost piteously. 'If we had it in -our power to give love and to withhold it, easy -indeed would our progress be through life.' -</p> - -<p> -'Love—nonsense!' -</p> - -<p> -'Save to the two most interested, who are -judges of it,' said Lennard. 'Surely you -loved my father, and he you.' -</p> - -<p> -'Our case was very different,' replied Lady -Fettercairn, in her anger actually forgetting -herself so far as to bite feathers off her fan -with her firm white teeth. -</p> - -<p> -'How, mother dear?' -</p> - -<p> -'In rank and wealth we were equal.' -</p> - -<p> -Lennard sighed, and said: -</p> - -<p> -'I little thought that you, who loved me -so, would prove all but one of the mothers of -Society.' -</p> - -<p> -'What do you mean, sir?' demanded his -father. -</p> - -<p> -'What a writer says.' -</p> - -<p> -'And what the devil does he say?' -</p> - -<p> -'That "love seems such a poor and -contemptible thing in their eyes in comparison -with settlements. Perhaps they forget their -own youth; one does, they say, when he -outlives romance. And I suppose bread and -butter is better than poetry any day."' -</p> - -<p> -'I should think so.' -</p> - -<p> -'We had other and brilliant views for you,' -said his mother in a tone of intense -mortification, 'but now——' -</p> - -<p> -'Leave us and begone, and let us look -upon your face no more,' interrupted his -father in a voice of indescribable sternness, -almost hoarse with passion, as he pointed to -the door. -</p> - -<p> -'Mother!' said Lennard appealingly, 'oh, -mother!' But she averted her face, cold as a -woman of ice, and said, 'Go!' -</p> - -<p> -'So be it,' replied Lennard, gravely and -sadly, as he drew himself up to the full height -of his five feet ten inches, and a handsome -and comely fellow he looked as he turned -away and left the room. -</p> - -<p> -'Thank God, his elder brother, Cosmo, is -yet left to us!' exclaimed Lady Fettercairn -earnestly. -</p> - -<p> -It was the last time in this life he ever -heard his mother's voice, and he quitted the -house. On the terrace without, carefully he -knocked the ashes out of his cherished briar-root, -put it with equal care into its velvet-lined -case, put the case into his pocket, and -walked slowly off with a grim and resolute -expression in his fine young face, upon which -from that day forth his father and mother -never looked again. -</p> - -<p> -Then he was thinking chiefly of the sweet -face of the young girl who had united her -fortunes with his, and who was anxiously -awaiting the result of the interview we have -described. -</p> - -<p> -Sorrow, mortification, and no small -indignation were in the heart of Lennard Melfort -at the result of the late interview. -</p> - -<p> -'I have been rash,' he thought, 'in marrying -poor Flora without their permission, but that -they would never have accorded, even had -they seen her; and none fairer or more -beautiful ever came as a bride to Craigengowan.' -</p> - -<p> -Pausing, he gave a long and farewell look -at the house so named—the home of his boyhood. -</p> - -<p> -It stands at some distance from the Valley -of the Dee (which forms the natural -communication between the central Highlands -and the fertile Lowlands) in the Hollow or -Howe of the Mearns. Situated amid -luxuriant woods, glimpses of Craigengowan -obtained from the highway only excite curiosity -without gratifying it, but a nearer approach -reveals its picturesque architectural features. -</p> - -<p> -These are the elements common to most -northern mansions that are built in the old -Scottish style—a multitude of conical turrets, -steep crowstepped gables and dormer gablets, -encrusted with the monograms and armorial -bearings of the race who were its lords when -the family of Fettercairn were hewers of wood -and drawers of water. -</p> - -<p> -The turrets rise into kindred forms in the -towers and gables, and are the gradual -accumulation of additions made at various times -on the original old square tower, rather than -a part of the original design, but the effect of -the whole is extremely rich and picturesque. -</p> - -<p> -In the old Scottish garden was an ancient -sun and moon dial, mossy and grey, by which -many a lover had reckoned the time in the -days of other years. -</p> - -<p> -Of old, Craigengowan belonged to an exiled -and attainted Jacobite family, from whom it -passed readily enough into the hands of the -second Lord Fettercairn, a greedy and -unscrupulous Commissioner on the forfeited -estates of the unfortunate loyalists. It had -now many modern comforts and appliances; -the entrance-hall was a marble-paved apartment, -off which the principal sitting-rooms -opened, and now a handsome staircase led to -the upper chambers, whilom the abode of -barons who ate the beef and mutton their -neighbours fed in the valley of the Dee. -</p> - -<p> -The grounds were extensive and beautiful, -and Lord Fettercairn's flower gardens and -conservatories were renowned throughout -Angus and the Mearns. -</p> - -<p> -To the bitter storm that existed in his own -breast, and that which he had left in those of -his parents, how peaceful by contrast looked -the old house and the summer scenery to -Lennard—the place on which he probably -would never gaze again. -</p> - -<p> -There was a breeze that rustled the green -leaves in the thickets, but no wind. Beautiful -and soft white clouds floated lazily in the -deep blue sky, and a recent shower had -freshened up every tree, meadow, and -hedgerow. The full-eared wheat grew red or -golden by the banks of the Bervie, and the -voice of the cushat dove came from the -autumn woods from time to time as with a -sigh Lennard Melfort turned his back on -Craigengowan for ever, cursing, as he went, -the pride of his family, for, though not an -old one, by title or territory, they were as -proud as they were unscrupulous in politics. -</p> - -<p> -The first prominent member of the family, -Lennard Melfort, had been a Commissioner -for the Mearns in the Scottish Parliament, -and for political services had been raised to -the peerage by Queen Anne as Lord Fettercairn -and Strathfinella, and was famous for -nothing but selling his Union vote for the -same sum as my Lord Abercairnie, £500, -and for having afterwards 'a rug at the -compensation,' as the English equivalent money -was called. After the battle of Sheriffmuir -saw half the old peerages of Scotland -attainted, he obtained Craigengowan, and was -one 'who,' as the minister of Inverbervie -said, 'wad sell his soul to the deil for a -crackit saxpence.' -</p> - -<p> -With the ex-Commissioner the talent—such -as it was—of the race ended, and for three -generations the Lords of Fettercairn had -been neither better nor worse than peers -of Scotland generally; that is, they were -totally oblivious of the political interests of -that country, and of everything but their own -self-aggrandisement by marriage or otherwise. -</p> - -<p> -Lennard Melfort seemed the first of the -family that proved untrue to its old instincts. -</p> - -<p> -'And I had made up my mind that he -should marry Lady Drumshoddy's daughter—she -has a splendid fortune!' wailed Lady -Fettercairn. -</p> - -<p> -'Married my governess—the girl MacIan!' -snorted my Lady Drumshoddy when she -heard of the dreadful mésalliance. 'Why -marry the creature? He might love her, of -course—all men are alike weak—but to marry -her—oh, no!' -</p> - -<p> -And my Lady Drumshoddy was a very -moral woman according to her standard, and -carried her head very high. -</p> - -<p> -When tidings were bruited abroad of what -happened, and the split in the family circle at -Craigengowan, there were equal sorrow and -indignation expressed in the servants' hall, -the gamekeepers' lodges, and the home farm, -for joyous and boyish Captain Melfort was a -favourite with all on the Fettercairn estates; -and Mrs. Prim, his mother's maid, actually -shed many tears over the untoward fate he -had brought upon himself. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER II. -<br /><br /> -WEDDED. -</h3> - -<p> -'And you will love me still, Flora, in spite -of this bitter affront to which you are -subjected for my sake?' said Lennard. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes,' said the girl passionately, 'I love -you, Lennard—love you so much,' she added, -while her soft voice broke and her blossom-like -lips quivered, 'that were I to lose you I -would die!' -</p> - -<p> -'My darling, you cannot lose me now,' he -responded, while tenderly caressing her. -</p> - -<p> -'Are we foolish to talk in this fashion, -Lennard?' -</p> - -<p> -'Foolish?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—or rash. I have heard that it is -not lucky for people to love each other so -much as we do.' -</p> - -<p> -'Could we love each other less?' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't think so,' said she simply and -sweetly, as he laid her cheek on his breast -with her upturned eyes gazing into his. -</p> - -<p> -The girl was slight and slender, yet perfect -was every curve of her shapely figure, which -was destitute of any straight line; even her -nose was, in the slightest degree, aquiline. -Her beautifully arched mouth, the scarlet -line of her upper lip, and the full round of -the nether one were parted in a tender -smile, just enough to show her teeth, defied -all criticism; her complexion was pure and -soft, and her eyes were of the most liquid -hazel, with almost black lashes. Her hair -was of the same tint, and Flora seemed a -lady to perfection, especially by the whiteness -and delicacy of her beautifully shaped little -hands. -</p> - -<p> -When she walked she did so gracefully, as -all Highland women do, and like them held -her head poised on her slender neck so -airily and prettily that her nurse, Madelon, -called her 'the swan.' -</p> - -<p> -'How I trembled, Lennard,' said she, -after a pause, 'as I thought of the <i>mauvais -quart d'heure</i> you were undergoing at Craigengowan.' -</p> - -<p> -'It was a <i>mauvais</i> hour and more, darling.' -</p> - -<p> -'And ever and anon I felt that strange -chill, or shudder, which Nurse Madelon says -people feel when some one crosses the place -where their grave is to be. How can your -parents be so cruel to you?' -</p> - -<p> -'And to you, Flora!' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah, that is different,' she replied, with -her eyes full of unshed tears, and in a pained -voice. 'Doubtless they consider me a very -designing girl; but in spite of that, you -will always care for me as much as you do now?' -</p> - -<p> -'Why such fears? Ever and always—ever -and always, my darling,' said Lennard -Melfort, stopping her questioning lips most -effectually for a time. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, if you should ever come to regret, -and with regret to love me less!' said she, -in a low voice, with her eyes for a moment -fixed on vacancy. -</p> - -<p> -'Why that boding thought, Flora?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because, surely, such great love never lasts.' -</p> - -<p> -He kissed her again as the readiest response. -</p> - -<p> -But the sequel proved that his great love -outlasted her own life, poor girl! -</p> - -<p> -Then they sat long silent, hand locked in -hand, while the gloaming deepened round -them, for words seem poor and feeble when -the heart is very full. -</p> - -<p> -'How long will they continue to despise -me?' said Flora suddenly, while across her -soft cheeks there rushed the hot blood of a -long and gallant line of Celtic ancestors. -</p> - -<p> -An exclamation of bitterness—almost -impatience, escaped Lennard. -</p> - -<p> -'Let us forget them—father, mother, all!' said he. -</p> - -<p> -The girl looked passionately into the face -of her lover-husband—the husband of a -month; and never did her bright hazel eyes -seem more tender and soft than now, with -all the fire of love and pride sparkling in -their depths, for her Highland spirit and -nature revolted at the affront to which she -was subjected. -</p> - -<p> -The bearing of Lennard Melfort and the -poise of his close-shorn head told that he was -a soldier, and a well-drilled one; and the -style of his light grey suit showed how -thoroughly he was a gentleman; and to -Flora's loving and partial eye he was -every-way a model man. -</p> - -<p> -They had been married just a month, we -have said, a month that very day, and -Lennard had brought his bride to the little -burgh town, within a short distance of -Craigengowan, and left her in their apartments -while he sought with his father and mother -the bootless interview just narrated. -</p> - -<p> -For three days before he had the courage -to bring it about, they had spent the time -together, full of hopeful thoughts, strolling -along the banks of the pretty Bervie, from -the blue current of which ever and anon the -bull-trout and the salmon rise to the flies; or -in the deep and leafy recourses of the -adjacent woods, and climbing the rugged -coast, against which the waves of the German -Sea were rolling in golden foam; or ascending -Craig David, so called from David II. of -Scotland—a landmark from the sea for -fifteen leagues—for both had a true and -warm appreciation and artistic love of Nature -in all her moods and aspects. -</p> - -<p> -The sounds of autumn were about them -now; the hum of insects and the song of the -few birds that yet sang; the fragrance of the -golden broom and the sweet briar, with a -score of other sweet and indefinable scents -and balmy breaths. All around them was -scenic beauty and peace, and yet with all -their great love for each other, their hearts -were heavy at the prospect of their future, -which must be a life of banishment in India, -and to the heaviness of Lennard was added -indignation and sorrow. But he could -scarcely accuse himself of having acted -rashly in the matter of his marriage, for to -that his family would never have consented; -and he often thought could his mother but -see Flora in her beauty and brightness, -looking so charming in her smart sealskin and -bewitching cap and feather, and long skirt of -golden-brown silk that matched her hair and -eyes—every way a most piquante-looking -girl! -</p> - -<p> -Young though he was, and though a -second son, Lennard Melfort had been a -favourite with more than one Belgravian -belle and her mamma, and there were few -who had not something pleasant or complimentary -to say of him since his return from -India. At balls, fêtes, garden and water -parties, girls had given him the preference -to many who seemed more eligible, had -reserved for him dances on their programmes, -sang for him, made unmistakable <i>œillades</i>, -and so forth; for his handsome figure and his -position made him very acceptable, though -he had not the prospects of his elder brother, -the Hon. Cosmo. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Fettercairn knew how Lennard was -regarded and valued well, and nourished -great hopes therefrom; but this was all over -and done with now. -</p> - -<p> -To her it seemed as if he had thrown his -very life away, and that when his marriage -with a needy governess—however beautiful -and well born she might be—became known, -all that charmed and charming circle in -Belgravia and Tyburnia would regard him as -a black sheep indeed; would shake their -aristocratic heads, and pity poor Lord and -Lady Fettercairn for having such a renegade -son. -</p> - -<p> -Flora's chief attendant—a Highland woman -who had nursed her in infancy—was comically -vituperative and indignant at the affront put -by these titled folks upon 'her child' as she -called her. -</p> - -<p> -Madelon Galbraith was strong, healthy, -active, and only in her fortieth year, with -black eyes and hair, a rich ruddy complexion, -a set of magnificent white teeth, and her -manner was full of emphatic, almost violent, -gesticulation peculiar to many Highlanders, -who seem to talk with their hands and arms -quite as much as the tongue. -</p> - -<p> -Sometimes Madelon spoke in her native -Gaelic, but generally in the dialect of the -Lowlands. -</p> - -<p> -'Set them up indeed,' she muttered; 'wha -are the Melforts o' Fettercairn, that they -should slight you—<i>laoghe mo chri</i>?' she -added, softly (calf of my heart). 'What a -pity it is ye canna fling at their heads the -gold they love, for even a Lowland dog winna -yowl gin ye pelt him wi' banes. But you've -begun wi' love and marriage, and a gude -beginning mak's a gude ending.' -</p> - -<p> -'But we shall be so poor, Nursie Madelon, -and I have ruined my poor Lennard,' urged -Flora, as the kind woman caressed her. -</p> - -<p> -'They say a kiss and a cup of water mak' -but a wersh breakfast,' laughed Madelon; 'but -you're no sae puir as that comes to, my -darling.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not quite' said Flora, laughing faintly, in -turn. 'Yet I have sorely injured my -husband's prospects.' -</p> - -<p> -'Tut, tut, my bairn. Ony man can woo, -but he weds only whar his weird lies; and so -Captain Melfort wedded you, and wha better? -Then what is a Lord that we should <i>lippen</i> to -<i>him</i>? As long as ye serve a tod ye maun -carry his tail? And your father's daughter -may carry her head wi' the highest.' -</p> - -<p> -Lennard Melfort now resolved neither -verbally nor by letter to have further -intercourse with his family at Craigengowan or -elsewhere, but before he could make up his -mind what to do or could betake him south, -as he meant to quit Scotland without delay, -on the day subsequent to the stormy interview -Madelon announced a visitor, and on a -salver brought in a card inscribed—'MR. KENNETH -KIPPILAW, W.S.' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER III. -<br /><br /> -THE SPURNED OFFER. -</h3> - -<p> -'The family agent from Edinburgh, Flora,' -said Lennard, in answer to her inquiring -glance. 'Mrs. Melfort,' he added, introducing -her to their visitor, who bowed with a -critical glance and appreciative smile. -</p> - -<p> -'I have been telegraphed for by your -father, Captain Melfort,' said Mr. Kippilaw, -as they shook hands and he was motioned to -a chair. -</p> - -<p> -A hale, hearty, unpretentious, business-like -man, about forty years of age, Mr. Kenneth -Kippilaw was too well-bred and too sensible -to begin the matter in hand by any remarks -about youthful imprudence, early marriages, -or so forth, as he knew the pride and -temperament of the young man before him, but -laid down his hat, and, after some of that -familiar weather talk which is the invariable -prelude to any conversation over all the -British Isles, he gently approached the object -of his mission, which Flora, in the simplicity -and terror of her heart, never doubted was a -separation of some kind between herself and -Lennard, so with a pallid face she bowed and -withdrew. -</p> - -<p> -'To what am I indebted for the pleasure -of this—a—unexpected interview?' asked -Lennard, a little stiffly. -</p> - -<p> -'Instructions just received from your father, -Captain Melfort.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then you have come from Craigengowan?' -</p> - -<p> -'Straight.' -</p> - -<p> -'Has he made up his mind to accept my -wife as his daughter-in-law?' -</p> - -<p> -'Quite the reverse, I regret to say.' -</p> - -<p> -Lennard's face darkened with indignation, -and he gave his moustache an angry twist. -</p> - -<p> -'Are my father and mother determined to -ignore the fact that she is a lady by birth?' -asked Lennard after a gloomy pause. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—they know, of course, that she is a -lady,' stammered Mr. Kippilaw, feeling his -mission an ungracious one, 'but poor—one -who has sunk into obscurity and dependence—pardon -me, I but use their own identical words. -</p> - -<p> -'Well?' -</p> - -<p> -'What is done in this instance unfortunately -cannot be undone, Captain Melfort; -but his lordship, feeling, of course, keenly in -the matter, is willing to continue your allowance, -and even to double it, on one condition. -</p> - -<p> -'Name it.' -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Kippilaw sighed, for though, as a -lawyer, considerably hardened, he felt the -delicacy of the whole situation, and Lennard's -dark eyes seemed to focus and pierce him. -</p> - -<p> -'The condition—to the point!' -</p> - -<p> -'Is—that you will return to India——' -</p> - -<p> -'I mean to do so forthwith,' interrupted -Lennard sharply. -</p> - -<p> -'Or you may live anywhere out of Britain, -but never attempt to intrude Mrs. Melfort -upon your family or their circle, and contrive, -if possible, to let that circle forget your existence.' -</p> - -<p> -'Insolent—and cruel as insolent!' exclaimed -Lennard Melfort as he started from -his chair and paced about the room, with his -dark eyes flashing and the veins in his -forehead swollen like whip-cord. -</p> - -<p> -'The words I speak are not my own,' said -Mr. Kippilaw, deprecatingly. -</p> - -<p> -'Return to Craigengowan, and tell my -father that I reject his bribe to insult my -wife—for a bribe it is—with the scorn it merits. -Not a penny of his money will I accept while -my sword and pay, or life itself, are left me. -Tell Lord and Lady Fettercairn that I view -myself as their son no more. As they -discard me, so do I discard them; and even -their <i>very name</i> I shall not keep—remember that!' -</p> - -<p> -'Dear me—dear me, all this is very sad!' -</p> - -<p> -'They have thrust me from them as if I -had been guilty of a crime——' -</p> - -<p> -'Captain Melfort!' -</p> - -<p> -'A crime I say—yet a day may come -when they will repent it; and from this hour -I swear——' -</p> - -<p> -'Not in anger,' interrupted Mr. Kippilaw, -entreatingly; 'take no hasty vow in your -present temper.' -</p> - -<p> -'I swear that to them and theirs I shall -be—from this hour—as one in the grave!' -</p> - -<p> -'But,' urged the lawyer, 'but suppose—which -God forbid—that aught happened to -your elder brother, Mr. Cosmo Melfort?' -</p> - -<p> -'I wish Cosmo well; but I care not for my -interest in the title—it may become dormant, -extinct, for aught that I care. Neither I nor -any of mine shall ever claim it, nor shall I -again set foot in Craigengowan, or on the -lands around it—no, never again, never again!' -</p> - -<p> -To every argument of the kind-hearted -Mr. Kippilaw, who really loved the Fettercairn -family and esteemed the high-spirited -Lennard, the latter turned a deaf ear. -</p> - -<p> -He departed in despair of softening matters -between the rash son and indignant parents. -To them he greatly modified the nature of -the useless interview, but they heard of -Lennard's determination with perfect unconcern, -and even with a grim smile of contempt, -never doubting that when money pressure -came upon him they would find him at their -mercy. But that time never came. -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Kippilaw returned to Edinburgh, and -there the affair seemed to end. -</p> - -<p> -The parting words of Lord Fettercairn to -him were said smilingly and loftily:— -</p> - -<p> -'The French have a little phrase, which in -six words expresses all our experiences in life.' -</p> - -<p> -'And this phrase, my lord?' -</p> - -<p> -'Is simply—<i>tout passe, tout casse, tout -lasse</i>—that we outlive everything in turn and in -time—and so this matter of Lennard's pride -will be a matter of time only. Be assured -we shall outlive the indignation of our -misguided son.' -</p> - -<p> -'But will you outlive your own?' -</p> - -<p> -'Never!' -</p> - -<p> -'I can but hope that you will, my lord. -Remember the hackneyed quotation from -Pope—"To err is human, to forgive divine." -</p> - -<p> -'I never forgive!' replied his lordship bitterly. -</p> - -<p> -The name of Lennard was never uttered -again by his parents, nor even by his brother -Cosmo (then reading up at Oxford) till the -hour for forgiveness was past; and even -Cosmo they contrived to innoculate with -their own cruel and unchristian sentiment of -hostility. Lennard's portrait was removed -from its place of honour in the dining-hall, -and banished to the lumber-attic; the goods, -chattels, and mementoes he left at home were -scattered and dispersed; even his horses were -sold, and the saddles he had used; and the -Fettercairn family would—could they have -done so—have obliterated his name from the -great double-columned tome of Sir Bernard -Burke. -</p> - -<p> -Heedless of all that, the young husband -and his dark-eyed girl-wife were all the world -to each other. -</p> - -<p> -'After mamma followed papa to the grave, -Lennard—for she never held up her head -after she heard of his death at Khooshab,' -said Flora, as she nestled her head in his -neck, 'I seemed to be condemned to a life of -hardship, humiliation, and heartlessness, till -I met you, dearest. I felt that even the love -of some dumb animal—a dog or a horse—was -better than the entire absence of affection -in the narrow circle of my life. I did so long -for something or some one to love me -exclusively—I felt so miserably, so utterly alone -in the world. Now I have you—<i>you</i> to love -me. But in winning you I have robbed you -of the love of all your people.' -</p> - -<p> -'Talk not of it, and think not of it, dearest -Flora. We are now more than ever all in -all to each other.' -</p> - -<p> -The money bribe, offered in such a way -and for such a purpose, exasperated Lennard -still more against his family, and drew many -a tear of humiliation from Flora in secret. -</p> - -<p> -She thought that she had wrought Lennard -a great wrong by winning his love for herself, -and she was now burning with impatience to -turn her back on the shores of Britain and -find a new home in India; and there, by staff -or other employments and allowances, Lennard -knew that he could gain more than the -yearly sum his father so mortifyingly offered him. -</p> - -<p> -Flora wept much over it all, we say, and -her appetite became impaired; but she did -not—like the heroine of a three-volume -novel—starve herself into a fright. -</p> - -<p> -But a short time before she had been a -childish and simple maiden—one sorely tried, -however, and crushed by evil fortune; but -with Lennard Melfort now, 'the prince had -come into her existence and awakened her -soul, and she was a woman—innocent -still—but yet a woman.' -</p> - -<p> -The scenery of the Mearns looked inexpressibly -lovely in the purity and richness of -its verdure and varied artistic views, for the -woods were profusely tinted with gold, russet -brown, and red, when Lennard Melfort turned -his back upon it and his native home for -ever! -</p> - -<p> -The birds were chirping blithly, and the -voice of the corncraik, with -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'The sweet strain that the corn-reapers sang,'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -came on the evening breeze together. The -old kirk bell was tolling in the distance, and -its familiar sound spoke to Lennard's heart -of home like that of an old friend. The river -was rolling under its great arch of some eighty -feet in span, the downward reflection of the -latter in the water making a complete circle -like a giant O. The old castle of Halgreen, -with its loopholed battlements of the -fourteenth century, stood blackly and boldly upon -its wave-beaten eminence, and the blue smoke -of picturesque Gourdon, a fisher village, curled -up on the ambient air, as the scenery faded -out in the distance. -</p> - -<p> -Flora became marvellously cheerful when -their journey fairly began, and laughingly she -sung in Lennard's ear— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'The world goes up and the world goes down,<br /> - But <i>yesterday's</i> smile and <i>yesterday's</i> frown<br /> - Can never come back again, sweet friend—<br /> - Can never come back again!'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Means were not forgotten to support nurse -Madelon in her native place, where we shall -leave her till she reappears in our narrative -again. -</p> - -<p> -So Lennard and his girl-wife sailed for -India, full of love for each other and hope for -their own lonely and unaided future, and both -passed for ever out of the lives and apparently -out of the memory of the family at Craigengowan. -</p> - -<p> -Times there were when he hoped to distinguish -himself, so that the circle there—those -who had renounced him—would be -proud of him; but in seeking that distinction -rashly, he might throw away his life, and thus -leave his little Flora penniless on the mercy -of a cold world and a proverbially ungrateful -Government. -</p> - -<p> -But they could not forget home, and many -a time and oft, where the sun-baked cantonments -of Meerut seemed to vibrate under the -fierce light of the Indian sun, where the -temples of Hurdwar from their steep of marble -steps look down upon the Ganges, or where -the bungalows of Cawnpore or Etwah, -garlanded with fragrant jasmine, stand by the -rolling Jumna amid glorious oleanders and -baubool trees, with their golden balls loading -the air with perfume, while the giant heron -stalked by the river's bed, the alligator basked -in the ooze, and the Brahmin ducks floated -overhead, Flora's sweet voice made Lennard's -heart thrill as she sang to him the songs of -the land they had resolved never to look -upon again, even when that sound so stirring -to the most sluggish Scottish breast when far -away, the pipes of a Highland regiment, -poured their notes on the hot sunny air. -</p> - -<p> -At home none seemed to care or think of -the discarded son but the worthy lawyer -Kenneth Kippilaw, who had loved him as a -lad, and could not get his hard fate out of his -mind. -</p> - -<p> -From time to time, inspired by kindness -and curiosity, he watched his name among the -captains in the military lists of that thick -compendium which no Scottish business -establishment is ever without—'Oliver and -Boyd's Almanack.' Therein, after a while, -the name of Lennard Melfort <i>disappeared</i>, -but whether he was dead, had sold out, or -'gone to the bad,' the worthy Writer to the -Signet could not discover, and he not -unnaturally sighed over what he deemed a lost -life. -</p> - -<p> -And here we end that which is a species of -prologue to our story. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER IV. -<br /><br /> -REVELSTOKE COTTAGE. -</h3> - -<p> -More than twenty years had elapsed after -the episodes we have described, and Lennard -and Flora had found a new home, and she, -her <i>last one</i>, more than four hundred and -fifty miles as the crow flies from where -Craigengowan looks down on the German -Sea. But none that looked on Lennard -Melfort now would have recognised in the -prematurely aged man the handsome young -fellow who in ire and disgust had quitted his -native land. -</p> - -<p> -In two years after he had gone eastward a -dreadful fever, contracted in a place where -he had volunteered on a certain duty to -gain money for the support of his wife and -her little Indian establishment—the Terrai of -Nepaul, that miasmatic border of prairie which -lies along the great forest of the Himalayas, -and has an evil repute even among the -natives of the country in the wet season when -the leaves are falling. -</p> - -<p> -This fever broke Lennard's health completely, -and so changed him that his rich -brown hair and moustache were grey at -six-and-twenty, and ere long he looked like a -man of twice his age. -</p> - -<p> -'Can that fellow really be Lennard Melfort -of the Fusiliers? Why, he is a veritable -Knight of the Rueful Countenance!' -exclaimed some old friends who saw him at -'The Rag,' when he came home to seek a -place of quiet and seclusion in Devonshire, as -it subsequently chanced to be. -</p> - -<p> -Amid the apple bowers of the land of cider, -and near a beautiful little bay into which the -waters of the British Channel rippled, stood -the pretty and secluded cottage he occupied, -as 'Major MacIan,' with his son and a -nephew. -</p> - -<p> -The wooded hills around it were not all -covered with orchards, however, and the little -road that wound round the bay ran under -eminences that, from their aspect, might make -a tourist think he was skirting a Swiss lake. -Others were heath-clad and fringed at the -base by a margin of grey rocks. -</p> - -<p> -Into the bay flowed a stream, blue and -transparent always. Here salmon trout were -often found, and the young men spent hours -at its estuary angling for rock fish. -</p> - -<p> -A Devonshire cottage is said by Mrs. Bray -to be 'the sweetest object that the poet, the -artist, or the lover of the romantic could -desire to see,' and such a cottage was that of -Major MacIan, the name now adopted by -Lennard—that of Flora's father—in fulfilment -of the vow he had made to renounce the -name, title, and existence of his family. -</p> - -<p> -Around it, and in front sloping down to -the bay, was a beautiful garden, teeming with -the flowers and fruits of Devonshire. On -three sides was a rustic verandah, the trellis -work of which was covered by a woven -clematis, sweetbriar, and Virginia creeper, -which, in the first year of her residence there, -Flora's pretty hands, cased in garden gloves, -were never tired of tending; and now the -Virginia creeper, with its luxuriant tendrils, -emerald green in summer, russet and red in -autumn, grew in heavy masses over the roof -and around the chimney stalks, making it, as -Flora was wont to say exultingly, 'quite a -love of a place!' -</p> - -<p> -On one hand lay the rolling waters of the -Channel, foaming about the Mewstone Rock; -on the other, a peep was given amid the -coppice of the ancient church of Revelstoke, -and here the married pair lived happily and -alone for a brief time. -</p> - -<p> -Save for the advent of a ship passing in -sight of the little bay, it was a sleepy place -in which Lennard, now retired as a major, -had 'pitched his tent,' as he said—the Cottage -of Revelstoke. Even in these railway times -people thereabout were content with yesterday's -news. There was no gas to spoil the -complexions of the young, and no water rates -to 'worrit' the old; and telegrams never -came, in their orange-tinted envelopes, to -startle the hearts of the feeble and the sickly. -</p> - -<p> -No monetary transactions having taken -place, and no correspondence being necessary, -between Lennard and his family or their -legal agent, Mr. Kippilaw, for more than -twenty years now, he had quite passed away -from their knowledge, and almost from their -memory; and many who knew them once -cared not, perhaps, whether he or his wife -were in the land of the living. -</p> - -<p> -A son, we have said, had been born to -them, and Lennard named the child Florian, -after his mother (here again ignoring his own -family), whom that event cost dear, for the -sweet and loving Flora never recovered her -health or strength—injured, no doubt, in -India—but fell into a decline, and, two years -after, passed away in the arms of Lennard -and her old nurse, Madelon. -</p> - -<p> -Lonely, lonely indeed, did the former feel -now, though an orphan nephew of Flora—the -son of her only sister—came to reside -with him—Shafto Gyle by name—one who -will figure largely in our story. -</p> - -<p> -Would Lennard ever forget the day of her -departure, when she sank under that wasting -illness with which no doctor could grapple? -Ever and always he could recall the sweet -but pallid face, the white, wasted hands, the -fever-lighted dark eyes, which seemed so -unnaturally large when, after one harrowing -night of pain and delirium, she became gentle -and quiet, and lovingly told him to take a -little rest—for old-looking he was; old, worn, -and wasted far beyond his years—and he -obeyed her, saying he would take a little -turn in the garden among the roses—the -roses her hands would tend no more—sick -at heart with the closeness of the sick-chamber -and all it suggested, and maddened by the -loud ticking of the watchful doctor's repeater -as it lay on a table littered with useless -phials; and how, ere he had been ten minutes -in the sunny morning air, amid the perfume -of the roses, he was wildly summoned by -Madelon Galbraith with white cheeks and -affrighted eyes, back to the chamber of -death it proved to be; for it was on the -brow of Death he pressed his passionate -kisses, and to ears that could hear no more -he uttered his heartrending entreaties that -she would not leave him, or would give him -one farewell word; and ever after would the -perfume of roses be associated in his mind -with that morning—the most terrible one of -his life! -</p> - -<p> -Beside Revelstoke Church—old, picturesque, -and rendered comely by a wealth -of luxuriant ivy that Time has wreathed -around its hoary walls to flutter in the sea -breeze—she was laid, and the heart of -Lennard seemed to be buried with her. -</p> - -<p> -It is a lonely old building, spotted with -lichens, worn by storms, and perched upon -the verge of a low, rocky cliff, up which the -salt spray comes at times to the -burial-ground. It is near the end of Mothcombe -Bay, where the shore makes a turn to the -southward. -</p> - -<p> -Not a house is near it, the solitary hills -and waves encompass it, and it is said that -its smouldering tombstones would furnish -ample matter for the 'meditations' of a -Hervey. So there Flora was laid, and there -Lennard was to be laid by her side when the -time came. -</p> - -<p> -Her death hardened his heart more than -ever against his own family, and he began -almost to forget that he ever bore any other -name than hers—his adopted one. -</p> - -<p> -In the kindness of his heart the major, as -the lads—his son and nephew—grew up -together, introduced both to neighbours and -strangers equally as his sons, but most -unwisely, as we shall ere long have to record. -</p> - -<p> -Neither to Florian nor to Shafto Gyle did -he reveal his real name, or the story of the -quarrel with his family and their work; thus -in and about Revelstoke all three passed -under the name of MacIan now. -</p> - -<p> -Madelon Galbraith, who had attended her -mistress on her death-bed, and nursed her -baby into boyhood, had now gone back to -her native glen in the wilds of Ross. She -proved, Lennard found, somewhat unfitted -for the locality of Revelstoke, as her ways -and ideas were foreign to those of the folks -thereabouts; but she will have a prominent -place in our story in the future. -</p> - -<p> -But long, long Madelon wept over Florian, -and pressed him often to her breast—'the -baby of her bairn,' as she had called -him—for as she had nursed him, so had she nursed -his mother before him in the days when the -victorious Ross-shire Buffs set up their tents -at Khooshab, on the plains of Persia. -</p> - -<p> -'Gude-by, calf of my heart,' were her parting -words; 'I'll see ye yet again, Florian. -If it were na for hope, the heart wad break!' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER V. -<br /><br /> -DULCIE. -</h3> - -<p> -All trace of Lennard Melfort had been -obliterated at Craigengowan, we have said. -He was never mentioned there, and though -his family tried to think of him as dead, they -did not quite succeed; but the disappearance -of his name from the Army List first excited -a little speculation, but no inquiry, until a -terrible event occurred. -</p> - -<p> -The eldest son, the Hon. Cosmo, married -the daughter of Lady Drumshoddy, thus -securing her thousands, and did his best to -console Lord and Lady Fettercairn for 'the -disgrace' brought upon them by Lennard, -and they regarded him quite as a model son. -</p> - -<p> -He shone as Chairman at all kinds of -county meetings; became M.P. for a cluster -of northern burghs, and was a typical Scottish -member, mightily interested when such grand -Imperial matters as the gravelling of Park -Lane, the ducks on the Serpentine, and the -improvements at Hyde Park Corner were -before the House, but was oblivious of all -Scottish interests, or that such a place as -Scotland existed. When she wanted—like -other parts of the empire—but never got -them—grants for necessary purposes, the -Hon. Cosmo was mute as a fish, or if he -spoke it was to record his vote against them. -</p> - -<p> -Lennard saw in a chance newspaper, and -with natural grief and dismay, that Cosmo -had come to an untimely end when deer-stalking -near Glentilt. He had wounded a -large stag, the captain of its herd, and -approached rashly or incautiously when the -infuriated animal was at bay. It broke its -bay, attacked him in turn, and ere the great -shaggy hounds could tear it down, Cosmo -was trampled under foot and gored to death -by its horns. -</p> - -<p> -As Lennard read, his sad mind went to the -scene where that death must have happened, -under mighty Ben-y-gloe, where the kestrel -builds his nest and the great mountain eagle -has his eyry, and the Tilt comes thundering -down over its precipices of grey rock. Never -again would his eyes rest on such glorious -scenes as these. -</p> - -<p> -Cosmo had left a little daughter, Finella, -who took up her abode with her grandparents -at Craigengowan, but no son, and -Lennard knew that by this tragedy he was -now the heir to the peerage, but he only gave -a bitter sigh as he thought of Flora in her -grave and made no sign. -</p> - -<p> -'Poor Cosmo,' he muttered, and forgetting -for a time much that had occurred, and how -completely Cosmo had leagued with father -and mother against him, his memory went -back to the pleasant days of their happy -boyhood, when they rode, fished, and shot -together, shared the same bedroom in Craigengowan, -and conned their tasks from the same books. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, well,' he added, 'all that is over -and done with long, long ago.' -</p> - -<p> -He made no sign, we say, but let time pass -by, not foreseeing the complications that were -eventually to arise by his doing so. -</p> - -<p> -Florian, born two years after the adoption -of Shafto Gyle in his infancy, always regarded -and looked up to the latter as a species of -elder brother and undoubted senior. -</p> - -<p> -In his twentieth year Florian was really a -handsome fellow, and if, without absurdity, -the term 'beautiful' could be applied to a -young man, he was so, in his perfect manliness. -Tall in figure, hard and well developed -in muscle, regular in features, he had clear, -dark, honest eyes, with lashes like a girl's, -and a dark, silky moustache. -</p> - -<p> -Shafto's face was in some respects handsome -too, but an evil one to look at, in one -way. His fair eyebrows were heavy, and -had a way of meeting in a dark frown when -he was thinking. His pale grey eyes were -shifty, and were given him, like his tongue, -to conceal rather than express his thoughts, -for they were sharp and cunning. His -nostrils were delicate, and, like his thin lips, -suggestive of cruelty, while his massive jaw -and thick neck were equally so—we must say -almost to brutality. -</p> - -<p> -They were rather a contrast, these two -young men—a contrast no less great in their -dispositions and minds than in their outward -appearance. They were so dissimilar—one -being dark and the other fair—that no one -would have taken them for brothers, as they -were generally supposed to be, so affectionate -was the Major to both, and both bearing his -name in the locality. -</p> - -<p> -As a schoolboy Shafto had won an unpleasant -reputation for jockeying his companions, -'doing' them out of toys, sweetmeats, -marbles, and money, and for skilfully shifting -punishments on the wrong shoulders when -opportunity offered, and not unfrequently on -those of the unsuspecting Florian. -</p> - -<p> -From some of his proclivities, the Major -thought Shafto would make a good attorney, -and so had him duly installed in the office of -Lewellen Carlyon, the nearest village lawyer, -while for his own boy, Florian, he had higher -hopes and aspirations, to make him, like -himself, a soldier; but though far from idle, -or lacking application, Florian failed, under -the insane high-pressure system of 'cramming,' -to pass, and not a few—Shafto particularly—laid -it to the account of a certain -damsel, Dulcie by name, who was supposed, -with some truth, to occupy too much of his -thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -Disgusted by the result of his last 'exam.,' -Florian would at once have enlisted, like so -many others, who rush as privates for -commissions nowadays; but his father's -fast-failing health, his love for Dulcie Carlyon, -and the desperate but 'Micawber'-like hope -that 'something would turn up,' kept him -hanging on day by day aimlessly at Revelstoke, -without even the apparent future that -had opened to Shafto when elevated to a -high stool in Lawyer Carlyon's office. -</p> - -<p> -As time went on, Lennard Melfort (or -MacIan as he called himself), though he had -a high appreciation of Shafto's sense, turn for -business to all appearance, cleverness, and -strength of character, turned with greater -pleasure to his own son Florian, whose clear -open brow and honest manly eyes bore -nature's unmistakable impress of a truer -nobility than ever appertained to the truculent -and anti-national lords of Fettercairn. -</p> - -<p> -Though to all appearance the best of -friends before the world, the cousins were -rivals; but as Florian was the successful -lover, Shafto had a good basis for bitterness, -if not secret hate. -</p> - -<p> -In common with the few neighbours who -were in that sequestered quarter, the lawyer -liked the Major—he was so gentle, suave, -retiring in manner, and courteously polite. -He liked Florian too, but deemed him idle, -and there his liking ended. -</p> - -<p> -He took Shafto into his office at the -Major's urgent request, as a species of -apprentice, but he—after the aphorism of -'Dr. Fell'—did not much affect the young man, -though he found him sharp enough—too -sharp at times; and, like most of the -neighbours, he never cared to inquire into the -precise relationship of the Major and the two -lads, both of whom from boyhood had called -the latter 'Papa.' -</p> - -<p> -Dulcie Carlyon was the belle of the limited -circle in which she moved, and a very limited -circle it was; but she was pretty enough to -have been the belle of a much larger orbit; -for she was the very ideal of a sweet, bright -English girl, now nearly in her eighteenth -year, and the boy and girl romance in the -lives of her and Florian had lasted since they -were children and playmates together, and -they seemed now to regard each other with -'the love that is given once in a lifetime.' -</p> - -<p> -'Could I but separate these two!' muttered -Shafto, as with eyes full of envy and evil he -watched one of their meetings, amid the -bushes that fringed an old quarry not far from -Revelstoke Church. -</p> - -<p> -From the summit where he lurked there -was a magnificent view of the sea and the -surrounding country. On one hand lay the -lonely old church and all the solitary hills that -overlook its wave-beaten promontory; on the -other were the white-crested waves of the -British Channel, rolling in sunshine; but -Shafto saw only the face and figure of Dulcie -Carlyon, who was clad just as he was fond of -picturing her, in a jacket of navy blue, -fastened with gilt buttons, and a skirt with -clinging folds of the same—a costume which -invests an English girl with an air equally -nautical and coquettish. Dulcie's dresses -always fitted her exquisitely, and her small -head, with smart hat and feather, set -gracefully on her shapely shoulders, had just a -<i>soupçon</i> of pride in its contour and bearing. -</p> - -<p> -Slender in figure, with that lovely flower-like -complexion which is so peculiarly English, -Dulcie had regular and delicate features, with -eyes deeply and beautifully blue, -reddish-golden hair, a laughing mouth that some -thought too large for perfect beauty, but it -was fully redeemed by its vivid colour and -faultless teeth. -</p> - -<p> -'Could I but separate them!' muttered -Shafto, through his clenched teeth, while -their murmured words and mutual caresses -maddened him. -</p> - -<p> -Dulcie was laughingly kissing a likeness in -an open locket which Florian had just given -her—a likeness, no doubt, of himself—and -she did so repeatedly, and ever and anon -held it admiringly at arm's length. Then she -closed it, and Florian clasped the flat silver -necklet to which it was attached round her -slender white throat; and with a bright fond -smile she concealed it among the lace frilling -of her collarette, and let the locket, for -security, drop into the cleft of her bosom, -little foreseeing the part it was yet to play in -her life. -</p> - -<p> -Shafto's face would not have been pleasant -to look upon as he saw this episode, and his -shifty grey eyes grew pea-green in hue as he watched it. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Dulcie!' exclaimed Florian, with a -kind of boyish rapture, as he placed a hand -on each of her shoulders and gazed into her -eyes, 'I am most terribly in love with you.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why should there be any terror in it?' -asked Dulcie, with a sweet silvery laugh. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, I feel so full of joy in having your -love, and being always with you, that—that -a fear comes over me lest we should be some -day parted.' -</p> - -<p> -'Who can part us but ourselves?' said she -with a pretty pout, while her long lashes -drooped. -</p> - -<p> -'Dulcie,' said he, after a little pause, 'have -you ever had an emotion that comes uncalled -for—that which people call a presentiment?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes; often.' -</p> - -<p> -'Has it ever come true?' -</p> - -<p> -'Sometimes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well—I have a presentiment this evening -which tells me that something is about to -happen to me—to us—and very soon too!' -</p> - -<p> -'What can happen to us—we are so happy?' -said Dulcie, her blue eyes dilating. -</p> - -<p> -Did the vicinity of Shafto, though unknown -to Florian, mysteriously prompt this thought—this -boding fear. Shafto heard the words, -and a strange smile spread over his face as he -shook his clenched hand at the absorbed pair, -and stole away from his hiding-place, leaving -two foolish hearts full of a foolish dream from -which they might be roughly awakened—leaving -the happy Florian, with that sweet -and winsome Dulcie whom he loved, and -with whom he had played even as a child; -with whom he had shared many a pot of -clotted cream; with whom he had fished for -trout in the Erme and Yealm; explored with -fearful steps and awe-stricken heart the cavern -there, where lie thick the fossil bones of the -elephant, hyæna, and wolf; and wandered for -hours by the moors, among mossy rocks and -mossy trees, and in woody labyrinthine lanes, -and many a time and oft by the sea shore, -where the cliffs are upheaved and contorted in -a manner beyond description, but so loosely -bound together that waves rend them asunder, -and shape them into forms like ruined castles -and stranded ships; till, as years went on, -heart had spoken to heart; boy and girl life -had been left behind; and that dream-time -came in which they seemed to live for years. -</p> - -<p> -No one could accuse Dulcie Carlyon of -coquetry, her nature was too truthful and open -for that; thus she had never for a moment -wavered in her preference between Florian -and Shafto, and spent with the former those -bright and hopeful hours that seldom come -again with the same keen intensity in a -lifetime, though often clouded by vague -doubts. -</p> - -<p> -As yet they had led a kind of Paul and -Virginia life, without very defined ideas of their -future; in fact, perhaps scarcely considering -what that future might be. -</p> - -<p> -They only knew, like the impassioned boy -and girl in the beautiful story of Bernardin -St. Pierre, that they loved each other very dearly, -and for the sweet present that sufficed; while -cunning Shafto Gyle looked darkly, gloomily, -and enviously on them. -</p> - -<p> -Perhaps it was his fast failing health that -prevented Lennard Melfort from looking -more closely into this matter, or it may be -that he remembered the youthful love of his -own heart; for he could never forget her -whom he was so soon to join now, and who, -'after life's fitful fever,' slept by the grey wall -of Revelstoke, within sound of the restless sea. -</p> - -<p> -Dulcie's father, Lawyer Carlyon, heard -rumours of these meetings and rambles, and -probably liked them as little as the Major did; -but he was a busy man absorbed in his work, -and had been used to seeing the pair together -since they were toddling children. Lennard, -perhaps, thought it was as well to let them -alone, as nothing would come of it, while the -lawyer treated it surlily as a kind of joke. -</p> - -<p> -'Why, Dulcie, my girl,' said he one day, -'what is to be the end of all this philandering -but spoiling your own market, perhaps? Do -you expect a young fellow to marry you who -has no money, no prospects, no position in -the world?' -</p> - -<p> -'Position he has,' said poor Dulcie, blushing -painfully, for though an only and motherless -child she stood in awe of her father. -</p> - -<p> -'Position—a deuced bad one, I think!' -</p> - -<p> -'The other two items will come in time, -papa,' said Dulcie, laughing now. -</p> - -<p> -'When?' -</p> - -<p> -Dulcie was silent, and—for the first time in -her life—thought sadly, 'Yes, when!' But -she pressed a pretty white hand upon the -silver locket in her bosom, as if to draw -courage therefrom as from an amulet. -</p> - -<p> -'Why, lass, he can't keep even the roof of -a <i>cob</i> cottage over your head.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, papa, remember our hopeful Devonshire -proverb—a good cob, a good hat and -shoes, and a good heart last for ever.' -</p> - -<p> -'Right, lass, and a good heart have you, -my darling,' said Mr. Carlyon, kissing her -peach-like cheek, for he was a kind and -good-hearted man, though somewhat rough in his -exterior, and more like a grazier than a -lawyer. 'You are both too young to know -what you are talking about. He'll be going -away, however—can't live always on his -father, and <i>he</i>, poor fellow, won't last long. -The fancy of you both will wear itself out, -like any other summer flirtation—I had many -such in my time,' he added, with a chuckle, -'and got safely over them all. So will you, -lass, and marry into some good family, getting -a husband that will give you a comfortable -home—for instance, Job Holbeton, with his -pits of Bovey coal.' -</p> - -<p> -Poor little Dulcie shivered, and could -scarcely restrain her tears at the hard, -practical suggestions of her father. -Hard-featured, stout, and grizzled Joe Holbeton -versus her handsome Florian! -</p> - -<p> -Her father spoke, too, of his probable -'going away.' Was this the presentiment to -which her lover had referred? It almost -seemed so. -</p> - -<p> -In the sunset she went forth into the -garden to work with her wools, and even to -have a 'good cry' over what her father had -said; but in this she was prevented by -suddenly finding Shafto stretched on the grass -at her feet under a pine chestnut-tree—Shafto, -whom she could only tolerate for -Florian's sake. -</p> - -<p> -'Why do you stare at me so hard, Shafto,' -she asked, with unconcealed annoyance. -</p> - -<p> -'Staring, was I?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, like an owl.' -</p> - -<p> -'I always like to see girls working.' -</p> - -<p> -'Indeed!' -</p> - -<p> -'And the work, what do you call it?' -</p> - -<p> -'Crewel work. And you like to see us busy?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, especially when the work is done by -hands so pretty and white.' -</p> - -<p> -'As mine, you mean, of course?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Dulcie. How you do bewilder a fellow!' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't begin as usual to pay me clumsy -compliments, Shafto, or I shall quit the -garden,' said Dulcie, her blue eyes looking -with a half-frightened, half-defiant expression -into the keen, shifty, and pale grey ones of -Shafto, who was somewhat given to persecuting her. -</p> - -<p> -He could see the outline of the locket with -every respiration of her bosom. Could he -but possess himself of it, thought he, as he -proceeded to fill his meerschaum pipe. -</p> - -<p> -'I thought gentlemen did not smoke in -ladies' society unless with permission,' said -Dulcie. -</p> - -<p> -'Never bother about that, little one, please. -But may I smoke?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Thanks; this is jolly,' said he, looking up -at her with eyes full of admiration. 'I feel -like Hercules at the feet of Omphale.' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't know who he was, or what you -feel, but do you know what you look like?' -</p> - -<p> -'No.' -</p> - -<p> -'Shall I tell you?' asked Dulcie, her eyes -sparkling with mischief. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, like the Athenian weaver, Bottom, -with his ass's head, at the feet of Titania. -"Dost like the picture?"' -</p> - -<p> -Shafto eyed her spitefully, all the more so -that Dulcie laughed merrily, showing all her -pearly teeth at her reply. -</p> - -<p> -'Oho, this comes of rambling in quarries,' -said he, bluntly and coarsely; 'doing the -Huguenot business, the <i>pose</i> of Millais' -picture. Bosh! What can you and he mean?' -</p> - -<p> -'Millais and I?' -</p> - -<p> -'No; you and Florian!' -</p> - -<p> -'Mean!' exclaimed Dulcie, her sweet face -growing very pale in spite of herself at the -bluntness of Shafto, and the unmistakable -anger of his tone and bearing. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—with your tomfoolery.' -</p> - -<p> -'How?—why?' -</p> - -<p> -'Penniless as you are—he at least.' -</p> - -<p> -'Good evening, Shafto; you are very unpleasant, -to say the least of it,' said Dulcie, as -she gathered up her wools and sailed into the -house, while his eyes followed her with a -menacing and very ugly expression indeed. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VI. -<br /><br /> -THE SECRET PACKET. -</h3> - -<p> -The broken health brought by Lennard from -the miasmatic Terai of Nepaul was rapidly -becoming more broken than ever, and, -though not yet fifty, he was a premature old -man, and it seemed as if the first part of -Florian's presentiment or prevision of coming -sorrow would soon be fulfilled. -</p> - -<p> -His steps became very feeble, and he could -only get about, in the autumn sunshine, with -the aid of a stick and Florian's arm; and -the latter watched him with grief and pain, -tottering like the aged, panting and leaning -heavily on his cane, as ever and anon he -insisted on being led up a steep slope from -which he could clearly see the old church of -Revelstoke on its wave-beaten promontory, -overlooked by sad and solitary hills, and his -hollow eyes glistened as he gazed on it, with -a kind of yearning expression, as if he longed -to be at peace, and by the side of her he had -laid there, it seemed long years ago—a lifetime ago. -</p> - -<p> -Poor Lennard was certainly near his tomb, -and all who looked upon him thought so; yet -his calm eye, ever looking upward, betrayed -no fear. -</p> - -<p> -One day when Florian was absent—no -doubt sketching, boating with Dulcie on the -Yealm, or idling with her on the moors—Lennard -besought Shafto to stay beside him -as he sat feeble and languid in his easy chair, -sinking with the wasting and internal fever, -with which the country practitioners were -totally incapable of grappling; and on this -day, for the first time, he began to speak -to him of Scotland and the home he once -had there; and he was listened to with -the keenest interest by Shafto, who had -ever—even as a child—been cunning, selfish, and -avaricious, yet wonderfully clever and -complaisant in his uncle's prejudiced eyes, as he -remembered only Flora's dead and devoted -sister. -</p> - -<p> -'I have been thinking over old times and -other days, Shafto,' said he, with his -attenuated hands crossed on the head of his -bamboo cane; 'and, all things considered, it -seems an occupation I had better avoid did -the memory concern myself alone: but I -must think of others and their interests—of -Florian and of you—so I can't help it, boy, -in my present state of health, or rather -want of health,' he added, as a violent fit of -spasmodic coughing came upon him. -</p> - -<p> -After a pause he spoke again. -</p> - -<p> -'You, Shafto, are a couple of years older -than Florian, and are, in many ways, several -years older in thought and experience by the -short training you have received in Carlyon's -office.' -</p> - -<p> -The Major paused again, leaving Shafto -full of wonder and curiosity as to what this -preamble was leading up to. -</p> - -<p> -The former had begun to see things more -clearly and temperately with regard to the -sudden death of Cosmo, and to feel that, -though he had renounced all family ties, -name, and wealth, so far as concerned himself, -to die, with the secret of all untold, would -be to inflict a cruel wrong on Florian. At -one time Lennard thought of putting his -papers and the whole matter in the hands of -Mr. Lewellen Carlyon, and it was a pity he -did not do so instead of choosing to entrust -them to his long-headed nephew. -</p> - -<p> -'Hand here my desk, and unlock it for -me—my hands are so tremulous,' said he. -</p> - -<p> -When this was done he selected a packet -from a private drawer, and briefly and rapidly -told the story of his life, his proper name, -and rank to Shafto, who listened with -open-eyed amazement. -</p> - -<p> -When the latter had thoroughly digested the -whole information, he said, after a long pause: -</p> - -<p> -'This must be told to Florian!' -</p> - -<p> -And with Florian came the thought of -Dulcie, and how this sudden accession of her -lover to fortune and position would affect her. -</p> - -<p> -'Nay, Shafto—not yet—not till I am gone—a -short time now. I can trust you, with -your sharpness and legal acumen, with the -handling of this matter entirely. When I -am gone, and laid beside your aunt Flora, -by the wall of the old church yonder,' he -continued with a very broken voice—one -almost a childish treble, 'you will seek the -person to whom this packet is addressed, -Kenneth Kippilaw, a Writer to the Signet in -Edinburgh—he is alive still; place these in -his hands, and he will do all that is required; -but treasure them, Shafto—be careful of them -as you would of your soul's salvation—for -my sake, and more than all for the sake of -Florian! Now, my good lad, give me the -composing draught—I feel sleepy and so -weary with all this talking, and the thoughts -that have come unbidden—unbidden, sad, -bitter, and angry thoughts—to memory.' -</p> - -<p> -Shafto locked the desk, put it aside, and, -giving his uncle the draught, stole softly away -to his own room with the papers, to con them -over and to—think! -</p> - -<p> -He had not sat at a desk for three years in -Lawyer Carlyon's office without having his -wits sharpened. He paused as he put the -documents away. -</p> - -<p> -'Stop—stop—let me think, let me -consider!' he exclaimed to himself, and he -certainly did consider to some purpose. He -was cold and calculating; he was never -unusually agitated or flustered, but he became -both with the thoughts that occurred to him -now. -</p> - -<p> -Among the papers and letters entrusted to -him were the certificates of the marriage of -Lennard and Flora, and another which ran -thus: -</p> - -<p> -'Certificate of entry of birth, under section -37 of 17 and 18 Vict., cap. 80.' It authenticated -the birth of their child Florian at -Revelstoke, with the date thereof to a minute. -</p> - -<p> -These documents were enclosed in a letter -written in a tremulous and uncertain hand by -Lennard Melfort to Mr. Kenneth Kippilaw, -part of which was in these terms: -</p> - -<p> -The child was baptized by a neighbouring -clergyman—the Rev. Paul Pentreath—who -has faithfully kept the promise of secrecy he -gave me, and, dying as I now feel myself to -be, I pray earnestly that my father and -mother will be kind to my orphan son. Let -them not—as they one day hope for mercy at -that dread throne before which I am soon to -appear—visit upon his innocent head my -supposed and most heavily punished offence. -Let him succeed in poor Cosmo's place to -that which is his due; let him succeed to all -I renounced in anger—an anger that has -passed away, for now, my dear old friend, I -am aged beyond my years, and my hair is -now white as snow through ill-health -contracted in India, where, to procure money -necessary for my poor Flora, I volunteered -on desperate service, and in seasons destructive -to existence. In your hands I leave the -matter with perfect hope and confidence. The -bearer will tell you all more that may be -necessary.' -</p> - -<p> -After having read, reread, and made himself -thoroughly master of the contents of this -to him certainly most astounding packet, he -requested the Major to re-address it in his own -tremulous and all but illegible handwriting, -and seal it up with his long-disused signet -ring, which bore the arms of Fettercairn. -</p> - -<p> -Prior to having all this done, Shafto had -operated on one of the documents most -dexterously and destructively with his pen-knife! -</p> - -<p> -'A peerage! a peerage!—rank, wealth, -money, mine—all mine!' he muttered under -his breath, as he stored the packet away in a -sure and secret place, and while whistling -softly to himself, a way he had when brooding -(as he often did) over mischief, he recalled -the lines of Robert Herrick: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Our life is like a narrow raft,<br /> - Afloat upon the hungry sea;<br /> - Hereon is but a little space,<br /> - And all men, eager for a place,<br /> - Do thrust each other in the sea.'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -'So why should I not thrust him into the -hungry briny? If life is a raft—and, by -Jove, I find it so!—why should one not grasp -at all one can, and make the best of life for -one's self, by making the worst of it for other -folks? Does such a chance of winning rank -and wealth come often to any one's hands? -No! and I should be the biggest of fools—the -most enormous of idiots—not to avail -myself to the fullest extent. I see my little -game clearly, but must play warily. "Eat, -drink, and be merry," says Isaiah, "for -to-morrow we die." They say the devil can -quote Scripture, and so can Shafto Gyle. -But I don't mean to die to-morrow, but to -have a jolly good spell for many a year to -come!' -</p> - -<p> -And in the wild exuberance of his spirits -he tossed his hat again and again to the -ceiling. -</p> - -<p> -From that day forward the health of -Lennard Melfort seemed to decline more -rapidly, and erelong he was compelled by -the chill winds of the season to remain in -bed, quite unable to take his place at table or -move about, save when wheeled in a chair to -the window, where he loved to watch the -setting sun. -</p> - -<p> -Then came one evening when, for the last -time, he begged to be propped up there in -his pillowed chair. The sun was setting over -Revelstoke Church, and throwing its -picturesque outline strongly forward, in a dark -indigo tint, against the golden and crimson -flush of the west, and all the waves around -the promontory were glittering in light. -</p> - -<p> -But Lennard saw nothing of all this, -though he felt the feeble warmth of the -wintry sun as he stretched his thin, worn -hands towards it; his eyesight was gone, and -would never come again! There was something -very pathetic in the withered face and -sightless eyes, and the drooping white -moustache that had once been a rich dark-brown, -and waxed <i>à l'Empereur</i>. -</p> - -<p> -His dream of life was over, and his last -mutterings were a prayer for Florian, on -whose breast his head lay as he breathed his -last. -</p> - -<p> -The two lads looked at each other in that -supreme moment—but with very different -thoughts in their hearts. Florian felt only -desolation, blank and utter, and even Shafto, -in the awful presence of Death, felt alone in -the world. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VII. -<br /><br /> -A FAREWELL. -</h3> - -<p> -As he lay dead, that old-looking, wasted, and -attenuated man, whose hair was like the -thistledown, none would have recognised in -him the dark-haired, bronzed, and joyous -young subaltern who only twenty-four years -before had led his company at the storming -of the Redan, who had planted the scaling-ladder -against the scarp, and shouted in a -voice heard even amid the roar of the adverse -musketry: -</p> - -<p> -'Come on, men! ladders to the front, -eight men per ladder; up and at them, lads, -with the bayonet,' and fought his way into -an embrasure, while round-shot tore up the -earth beneath his feet, and men were swept -away in sections of twenty; or the hardy -soldier who faced fever and foes alike in the -Terai of Nepaul. -</p> - -<p> -How still and peaceful he lay now as the -coffin-lid was closed over him. -</p> - -<p> -Snow-flakes, light and feathery, fell on the -hard ground, and the waves seemed to leap -and sob heavily round the old church of -Revelstoke, when Lennard Melfort was laid -beside the now old and flattened grave -of Flora, and keen and sharp the frosty wind -lifted the silver hair of the Rev. Paul -Pentreath, whistled among the ivy or on the -buttresses, and fluttered the black ribbon of -the pall held by Florian, who felt as one in a -dreadful dream—amid a dread and unreal -phantasmagoria; and the same wind seemed -to twitch angrily the pall-ribbon from the -hand of Shafto, nor could he by any effort -recover it, as more than one present, with -their Devonian superstition, remarked, and -remembered when other things came to pass. -</p> - -<p> -At last all was over; the mourners departed, -and Lennard Melfort was left alone—alone -with the dead of yesterday and of ages; -and Florian, while Dulcie was by his side and -pressed his hand, strove to commit to memory -the curate's words from the Book of Revelation, -'There shall be no more death, neither -sorrow, nor sighing; for God shall wipe -away all tears from their eyes.' -</p> - -<p> -Shafto now let little time pass before he -proceeded to inform Florian of what he -called their 'relative position,' and of their -journey into Scotland to search out Mr. Kippilaw. -</p> - -<p> -It has been said that in life we have -sometimes moments so full of emotion that they -seem to mark a turn in it we can never reach -again; and this sharp turn, young and startled -Florian seemed to pass, when he learned that -since infancy he had been misled, and that -the man, so tender and so loving, whom -he had deemed his father was but his uncle! -</p> - -<p> -How came it all to pass now? Yet the -old Major had ever been so kind and affectionate -to him—to both, in fact, equally so, -treating them as his sons—that he felt only a -stunning surprise, a crushing grief and bitter -mortification, but not a vestige of anger; his -love for the dead was too keen and deep for -that. -</p> - -<p> -The packet, sealed and addressed to -Mr. Kippilaw, though its contents were as yet -unknown to him, seemed to corroborate the -strange intelligence of Shafto; but the -question naturally occurred to Florian, 'For what -end or purpose had this lifelong mystery -and change in their positions been brought -about?' -</p> - -<p> -He asked this of Shafto again and again. -</p> - -<p> -'It seems we have been very curiously -deluded,' said that personage, not daring to -look the sorrowful Florian straight in the -face, and pretended to be intent on stuffing -his pipe. -</p> - -<p> -'Deluded—how?' -</p> - -<p> -'How often am I to tell you,' exclaimed -Shafto, with petulance and assumed irritation, -'that the contents of this packet prove that <i>I</i> -am the only son of Major Melfort (not -MacIan at all), and that you—you——' -</p> - -<p> -'What?' -</p> - -<p> -'Are Florian Gyle, the nephew—adopted -as a son. Mr. Kippilaw will tell you all -about it.' -</p> - -<p> -'And you, Shafto?' queried Florian, -scarcely knowing, in his bewilderment, what -he said. -</p> - -<p> -'Mean to go in for my proper position—my -title, and all that sort of thing, don't you -see?' -</p> - -<p> -'And act—how!' -</p> - -<p> -'Not the proverbial beggar on horseback, -I hope. I'll do something handsome for you, -of course.' -</p> - -<p> -'I want nothing done for me while I have -two hands, Shafto.' -</p> - -<p> -'As you please,' replied the latter, puffing -vigorously at his pipe. 'I have had enough -of hopeless drudgery for a quarterly pittance -in the dingy office of old Carlyon,' said he, -after a long pause; 'and, by all the devils, -I'll have no more of it now that I am going -to be rich.' -</p> - -<p> -Indeed, from the day of Lennard Melfort -entrusting him with the packet, Shafto had -done little else at the office but study the -laws of succession in Scotland and England. -</p> - -<p> -'How much you love money, Shafto!' -said Florian, eying him wistfully. -</p> - -<p> -'Do I? Well, I suppose that comes from -having had so precious little of it in my -time. I am a poor devil just now, but,' thought -he exultantly, 'this "plant" achieved successfully, -how many matrons with daughters -unmarried will all be anxious to be mother to -me! And Dulcie Carlyon I might have for -asking; but I'll fly at higher game now, by -Jove!' -</p> - -<p> -As further credentials, Shafto now -possessed himself of Major Melfort's sword, -commissions, and medals, while Florian -looked in blank dismay and growing -mortification—puzzled by the new position in which -he found himself, of being no longer his father's -son—a source of unfathomable mystery. -</p> - -<p> -Shafto was in great haste to be gone, to -leave Revelstoke and its vicinity behind him. -It was too late for regrets or repentance now. -Not that he felt either, we suppose; and -what he had done he would do again if there -was no chance of being found out. In the -growing exuberance of his spirits, he could -not help, a day or two after, taunting Florian -about Dulcie till they were on the verge of a -quarrel, and wound up by saying, with a -scornful laugh: -</p> - -<p> -'You can't marry her—a fellow without a -shilling in the world; and I wouldn't now, -if she would have me, which I don't doubt.' -</p> - -<p> -Poor Dulcie! She heard with undisguised -grief and astonishment of these events, and -of the approaching departure of the cousins. -</p> - -<p> -The cottage home was being broken up; -the dear old Major was in his grave; and -Florian, the playmate of her infancy, the -lover of her girlhood, was going away—she -scarcely knew to where. They might be -permitted to correspond by letter, but when, -thought Dulcie—oh, when should they meet -again? -</p> - -<p> -The sun was shedding its light and warmth -around her as usual, on woodland and hill, on -wave and rock; but both seemed to fade out, -the perfume to pass from the early spring -flowers, the glory from land and sea, and a -dim mist of passionate tears clouded the -sweet and tender blue eyes of the affectionate -girl. -</p> - -<p> -He would return, he said, as he strove to -console her; but how and when, and to what -end? thought both so despairingly. Their -future seemed such a vague, a blank one! -</p> - -<p> -'I am penniless, Dulcie—a beggar on the -face of the earth—twice beggared now, I -think!' exclaimed Florian, in sorrowful bitterness. -</p> - -<p> -'Don't speak thus,' said she imploringly, -with piteous lips that were tremulous as his -own, and her eyes drowned in tears. -</p> - -<p> -They had left the road now, and wandered -among the trees in a thicket, and seated -themselves on a fallen trunk, a seat and place -endeared to them and familiar enough in past time. -</p> - -<p> -He gazed into her eyes of deep pansy-blue, -as if his own were striving to take away a -memory of her face—a memory that would -last for eternity. -</p> - -<p> -'And you really go to-night?' she asked, -in piteous and broken accents. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—with Shafto. I am in a fever, -darling, to seek out a position for myself. -Surely Shafto may assist me in that—though -I shrink from asking him.' -</p> - -<p> -'Your own cousin?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—but sometimes he looks like a -supplanter now, and his bearing has been so -unpleasant to me, especially of late,' said -Florian. 'But you will wait for me, Dulcie, -and not be persuaded to marry anyone else?' -he added imploringly, as he clasped each of -her hands in his. -</p> - -<p> -'I shall wait for you, Florian, if it should -be for twenty years!' exclaimed the girl, in a -low and emphatic voice, scarcely considering -the magnitude and peril of such a promise. -</p> - -<p> -'Thank you, darling Dulcie!' said he -bending down and kissing her lips with -ardour, and, though on the eve of parting, -they felt almost happy in the confidence of -the blissful present. -</p> - -<p> -'How often shall I recall this last meeting -by the fallen tree, when you are far, far -away from Revelstoke and—me,' said Dulcie. -</p> - -<p> -'You will often come here to be reminded -of me?' -</p> - -<p> -'Do you think, Florian, I will require to -be reminded of you?' asked the girl, with a -little tone of pain in her sweet voice, as she -kissed the silver locket containing his likeness, -and all the sweet iteration of lover-talk, -promises, and pledges went on for a time, -and new hopes began to render this last -interview more bearable to the young pair who -were on the eve of separation, without any -very distinct arrangement about correspondence -in the interval of it. -</p> - -<p> -The sun was setting now redly, and amid -dun winter clouds, beaming on each chimney-head, -on Revelstoke Church, and the leafless -tree-tops his farewell radiance. -</p> - -<p> -Florian took a long, long kiss from Dulcie, -and with the emotion of a wrench in his -heart, was gone, and she was alone. -</p> - -<p> -A photo and a lock of red-golden hair were -all that remained to him of her—both to be -looked upon again and again, till his eyes -ached, but never grew weary. -</p> - -<p> -Dulcie's were very red with weeping, and -the memory of that parting kiss was still -hovering on her quivering lips when, in -a lonely lane not far from her home, she -found herself suddenly face to face with -Shafto. -</p> - -<p> -She had known him from his boyhood, -ever since he came an orphan to Lennard -Melfort's cottage; and although she always -distrusted and never liked him, his face was -a familiar one she might never see more; thus -she resolved to part with him as with the best -of friends, and to remember that he was the -only kinsman of Florian, whose companion -and fellow-traveller he was to be on a journey -the end of which she scarcely understood. -So, frankly and sweetly, with a sad smile in -her eyes, she proffered her pretty hand, -which Shafto grasped and retained promptly -enough. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VIII. -<br /><br /> -THE SILVER LOCKET. -</h3> - -<p> -Shafto had just been with her father. How -contemptuously he had eyed the corner and -the high old stool on which he had sat in the -latter's legal establishment, and all its -surroundings; the fly-blown county maps of -Devon and Cornwall; advertisements of -sales—property, mangold wurzel, oats and hay, -Thorley's food for cattle, and so forth; the -tin boxes of most legal aspect; dockets of -papers in red tape; the well-thumbed ledgers; -day and letter books, and all the paraphernalia -of a country solicitor's office. -</p> - -<p> -Ugh! How well he knew and loathed -them all. Now it was all over and done with. -</p> - -<p> -The three poor lads in the office, whose -cheap cigars and beer he had often shared at -the Ashburton Arms, he barely condescended -to notice, while they regarded him with -something akin to awe, as he gave Lawyer Carlyon -his final 'instructions' concerning the disposal -of the lease of the Major's pretty cottage, -and of all the goods and chattels that were -therein. -</p> - -<p> -Had Florian been present he would have -felt only shame and abasement at the tone -and manner Shafto adopted on this occasion; -but worthy Lawyer Carlyon, who did not -believe a bit in the rumoured accession of -Shafto to family rank and wealth, laughed -softly to himself, and thought his 'pride would -have a sore fall one of these fine days.' -</p> - -<p> -And even now, when face to face with -Dulcie, his general bearing, his coolness and -insouciance, rendered her, amid all her grief, -indignant and defiant ultimately. -</p> - -<p> -How piquant, compact, and perfect the girl -looked, from the smart scarlet feather in her -little hat to her tiny Balmoral boots. Her -veil was tightly tied across her face, showing -only the tip of her nose, her ripe red lips, and -pretty white chin—its point, like her cheeks, -reddened somewhat by the winter breeze from -the Channel. Her gloved hands were in her -small muff, and the collar of her sealskin -jacket was encircled by the necklet at which -her silver locket hung—the locket Shafto -had seen her kiss when Florian had bestowed -it on her, while he looked close by, with his -heart full of envy, jealousy, and hatred, and -now it was the first thing that attracted his eye. -</p> - -<p> -'And you actually leave us to-night, Shafto?' -she said softly. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Dulcie, by the train for Worcester -and the north. My estates, you know, are -in Scotland.' -</p> - -<p> -'These changes are all strange and most -startling,' said she, with a sob in her slender -throat. -</p> - -<p> -'We live in whirligig times, Dulcie; but I -suppose it is the result of progress,' he added -sententiously. 'I wonder how our grandfathers -and grandmothers contrived to mope -over and yawn out their dull and emotionless -existence till they reached threescore and ten years.' -</p> - -<p> -'I shall never see that age, Shafto.' -</p> - -<p> -'Who knows; though life, however sweet -now, won't be worth living for then, I fancy.' -</p> - -<p> -Dulcie sighed, and he regarded her in -admiring silence, for he had a high appreciation -of her bright and delicate beauty, and -loved her—if we may degrade the phrase—in -his own selfish and peculiar way, though -now resolved—as he had often thought vainly—to -'fly at higher game;' and so, full of -ideas, hopes, and ambitions of his own, if he -had ceased to think of Dulcie, he had, at -least, ceased for a space to trouble her. -</p> - -<p> -'Florian will be writing to you, of course?' -said he, after a pause. -</p> - -<p> -'Alas! no, we have made no arrangement; -and then, you know, papa——' -</p> - -<p> -'Wouldn't approve, of course. My farewell -advice to you, Dulcie, is—Don't put off -your time thinking of Florian—his ship will -never come home.' -</p> - -<p> -'Nor yours either, perhaps,' said Dulcie, angrily. -</p> - -<p> -'You think so—but you are wrong.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah! I know these waited for ships rarely do.' -</p> - -<p> -'I have read somewhere that ships of the -kind rarely do come home in this prosaic and -disappointing world; that some get wrecked -almost within sight of land; others go down -without the flapping of a sail, and sometimes -after long and firm battling with adverse -winds and tides; but <i>my ship</i> is a sure craft, -Dulcie,' he added, as he thought of the packet -in his possession—that precious packet on -which all his hopes rested and his daring -ambition was founded. -</p> - -<p> -Dulcie looked at him wistfully and distrustfully, -and thought— -</p> - -<p> -'Why is he so sure? But his ideas were -always selfish and evil. Tide what may,' -she added aloud, 'I shall wait twenty years -and more for Florian.' -</p> - -<p> -'The more fool you, then! And so die an -old maid?' -</p> - -<p> -'I am, perhaps, cut out for an old maid.' -</p> - -<p> -'And if he never can marry you—or -marries some one else when he can?' asked -Shafto viciously. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, then I'll take to æstheticism, or -women's rights, and all that sort of thing,' -said the poor girl, with a ghastly and defiant -attempt at a jest, which ended in tears, while -Shafto eyed her angrily. -</p> - -<p> -'How fond you are of that silver locket—you -never wear any other!' -</p> - -<p> -'I have so few ornaments, Shafto.' -</p> - -<p> -'And none you prize so much?' -</p> - -<p> -'None!' said Dulcie, with a sweet, sad smile. -</p> - -<p> -'Is that the reason you wear it with all -kinds of dresses? What is in it—anything?' -</p> - -<p> -'That is my secret,' replied Dulcie, putting -her right hand on it and instinctively drawing -back a pace, for there was a menacing expression -in the cold grey eyes of Shafto. -</p> - -<p> -'Allow me to open it,' said he, taking her -hand in his. -</p> - -<p> -'No.' -</p> - -<p> -'You shall!' -</p> - -<p> -'Never!' exclaimed Dulcie, her eyes -sparkling now as his grasp upon her hand -tightened. -</p> - -<p> -An imprecation escaped Shafto, and with -his eyes aflame and his cheeks pale with -jealousy and rage he tore her hand aside and -wrenched by brutal force the locket from her, -breaking the silver necklet as he did so. -</p> - -<p> -'Coward!' exclaimed Dulcie; 'coward and -thief—how dare you? Surrender that locket -instantly!' -</p> - -<p> -'Not if I know it,' said he, mockingly, -holding the prized trinket before her at arm's -length. -</p> - -<p> -'But for Florian's sake, I would at once -apply to the police.' -</p> - -<p> -'A vulgar resort—no, my pretty Dulcie, -you wouldn't.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'Not for Florian's sake?' -</p> - -<p> -'Whose, then?' -</p> - -<p> -'Your own, for you wouldn't like to have -your old pump of a father down on you; and -so you dare not make a row about it, my -pretty little fury.' -</p> - -<p> -'Shafto, I entreat you, give me back that -photo,' said Dulcie, her tears welling forth. -</p> - -<p> -'No; I won't.' -</p> - -<p> -'Of what interest or use can it be to you?' -</p> - -<p> -'More than you imagine,' said Shafto, to -whom a villainous idea just then occurred. -</p> - -<p> -'I entreat you,' said Dulcie, letting her -muff drop and clasping her slim little hands. -</p> - -<p> -'Entreat away! I feel deucedly inclined -to put my heel upon it—but I won't.' -</p> - -<p> -'This robbery is cruel and infamous!' -exclaimed Dulcie, trembling with grief and just -indignation; but Shafto only laughed in -anger and bitterness—and a very hyena-like -laugh it was, and as some one was coming -down the secluded lane, he turned away and -left her in the twilight. -</p> - -<p> -He felt himself safe from opprobrium and -punishment, as he knew well she was loth to -make any complaint to her father on the -subject; and just then she knew not how to -communicate with Florian, as the darkness -was falling fast, and the hour of his departure -was close at hand. She thought it not -improbable that Shafto would relent and return -the locket to her; but the night was far -advanced ere that hope was dissipated, and she -attained some outward appearance of -composure, though her father's sharp and -affectionate eyes detected that she had been -suffering. -</p> - -<p> -He had heard from her some confused -and rambling story about the family secret, -the packet, and the peerage, a story of which -he could make nothing, though Shafto's -bearing to himself that evening seemed to -confirm the idea that 'there was something in -it.' Anyway, Mr. Carlyon was not indisposed -to turn the event to account in one sense. -</p> - -<p> -'Likely—likely enough, Dulcie lass,' said -he; 'and so you'll hear no more of these -two lads, if they are likely to become great -folks, and belong to what is called the upper -ten; they'll never think again of a poor -village belle like you, though there is not a -prettier face in all Devonshire than my -Dulcie's from Lyme Regis to Cawsand Bay.' -</p> - -<p> -He meant this kindly, and spoke with a -purpose; and his words and the warning -they conveyed sank bitterly into the tender -heart of poor Dulcie. -</p> - -<p> -By this time the cousins were sweeping -through the darkness in the express train by -Exeter, Taunton, and so forth; both were -very silent, and each was full of his own -thoughts, and what these were the reader -may very well imagine. -</p> - -<p> -Heedless of the covert and sneering smiles -of Shafto, Florian, from time to time, drew -forth the photo of Dulcie, and her shining -lock of red-golden hair, his sole links between -the past and the present; and already he felt -as if a score of years had lapsed since they -sat side by side upon the fallen tree. -</p> - -<p> -Then, that he might give his whole -thoughts to Dulcie, he affected to sleep; but -Shafto did not sleep for hours. He sat -quietly enough with his face in shadow, his -travelling-cap of tweed-check pulled well -down over his watchful and shifty grey-green -eyes, the lamp overhead giving a miserable -glimmer suited to the concealment of expression -and thought; and as the swift train sped -northward, the cousins addressed not a word -to each other concerning those they had left -behind, what was before them, or anything else. -</p> - -<p> -After a time, Shafto really slept—slept the -slumber which is supposed to be the reward -of the just and conscientious, but which is -much more often enjoyed by those who have -no conscience at all. -</p> - -<p> -Dulcie contrived to despatch a letter to -Florian detailing the outrage to which she -had been subjected by Shafto; but time -passed on, and, for a reason we shall give in -its place, the letter never reached him. -</p> - -<p> -Again and again she recalled and rehearsed -her farewell with Florian, and thought -regretfully of his passionate pride, and desperate -poverty too probably, if he quarrelled with -Shafto; and she still seemed to see his -beautiful dark eyes, dim with unshed tears, while -her own welled freely and bitterly. -</p> - -<p> -When could they meet again, if ever, and -where and how? Her heart and brain -ached with these questions. -</p> - -<p> -Dulcie did not bemoan her fate, though -her cheek paled a little, and she felt—even -at her early years—as if life seemed over -and done with, and in her passionate love for -the absent, that existence alone was left to -her, and so forth. -</p> - -<p> -And as she was her father's housekeeper -now, kept the keys and paid all the servants, -paid all accounts and made the preserves, he -was in no way sorry that the young men were -gone; that the 'aimless philandering,' as he -deemed it, had come to an end; and that -much would be attended to in his cosy little -household which he suspected—but unjustly—had -been neglected hitherto. -</p> - -<p> -To Dulcie, the whole locality of her native -place, the breezy moors, the solitary hills, the -mysterious Druid pillars and logan stones, -the rocky shore, and the pretty estuary of the -Yealm, where they had been wont to boat -and fish for pilchards in summer and autumn, -were all full of the haunting presence of the -absent—the poor but proud and handsome -lad who from boyhood, yea from infancy, had -loved her, and who now seemed to have -slipped out of her existence. -</p> - -<p> -Spring melted into summer; golden sunshine -flooded hill and dale, and lit up the -waters of the Erm, the Yealm, and the -far-stretching Channel, tinting with wondrous -gleams and hues the waves that rolled upon -the shore, or boiled about the Mewstorre -Rock, and the sea-beaten promontory of -Revelstoke; but to Dulcie the glory was -gone from land and water: she heard no -more, by letter or otherwise, of the love of -her youth; he seemed to have dropped -utterly out of her sphere; and though -mechanically she gathered the fragrant leaves of -the bursting June roses—the Marshal Neil -and Gloire de Dijon—and treasured them -carefully in rare old china jars and vases, a -task in which she had often been assisted by -Florian, she felt and thought—'Ichabod! -Ichabod! the glory has departed!' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER IX. -<br /><br /> -MR. KIPPILAW, W.S. -</h3> - -<p> -Shafto found himself a little nervous when -he and Florian were actually in Edinburgh, a -city in its beauty, boldness and grandeur of -rock and mountain, fortress, terrace, and -temple, so foreign-looking to English eyes, -and so utterly unlike everything they had -ever seen or conceived before. -</p> - -<p> -Florian's thoughts were peculiarly his own. -His father's death—though called an uncle -now, but Florian always felt for and thought -of him as a parent—the loss of Dulcie, their -abrupt departure from Devonshire, and rough -uprootal of all early associations, had made a -kind of hiatus in the young fellow's life, and -it was only now when he found himself amid -the strange streets and picturesque splendour -of Edinburgh that he began—like one -recovering consciousness after a long -illness—to gather up again the ravelled threads of -thought, but with curious want of concern and -energy; while Shafto felt that he personally -had both, and that now he required to have -all his wits about him. -</p> - -<p> -Florian stood for a time that night at the -door of their hotel in Princes Street looking -at the wonderful lights of the Old Town -sparkling in mid air, and some that were in -the Castle must, he thought, be stars, they -were so high above the earth. Scores of -cabs and carriages went by, eastward and -westward, but no carts or wains or lorries, -such as one sees in London or Glasgow—vehicles -with bright lamps and well muffled -occupants, gentlemen in evening suits, and -ladies in ball or dinner dresses, and crowds of -pedestrians, under the brilliant gas lights and -long boulevard-like lines of trees—the -ever-changing human panorama of a great city -street before midnight. -</p> - -<p> -How odd, how strange and lonely poor -Florian felt; he seemed to belong to no one, -and, like the Miller o' Dee, nobody cared for -him; and ever and anon his eyes rested on -the mighty castled rock that towers above -streets, monuments, and gardens, with a -wonderous history all its own, 'where -treasured lie the monarchy's last gems,' and -with them the only ancient crown in the -British Isles. 'Brave kings and the fairest -of crowned women have slept and been -cradled in that eyrie,' says an enthusiastic -English writer; 'heroes have fought upon its -slopes; English armies have stormed it; -dukes, earls, and barons have been -immured in its strong dungeons; a sainted -Queen prayed and yielded up her last breath -there eight centuries ago. It is an imperishable -relic—a monument that needs no carving -to tell its tale, and it has the nation's worship; -and the different church sects cling round its -base as if they would fight again for the -guardianship of a venerable mother..... -And if Scotland has no longer a king and -Parliament all to herself, her imperial crown -is at least safely kept up there amid strong -iron stanchions, as a sacred memorial of her -inextinguishable independence, and, if need -were, for future use.' -</p> - -<p> -Florian was a reader and a thinker, and he -felt a keen interest in all that now surrounded -him; but Shafto lurked in a corner of the -smoke-room, turning in his mind the task of -the morrow, and unwisely seeking to fortify -himself by imbibing more brandy and soda -than Florian had ever seen him take before. -</p> - -<p> -After a sound night's rest and a substantial -Scottish breakfast had fitted Shafto, as he -thought, for facing anything, a cab deposited -him and Florian (who was now beginning to -marvel why he had travelled so far in a -matter that concerned him not, in reality) -at the residence of Mr. Kenneth Kippilaw, -W.S., in Charlotte Square—a noble specimen -of Adams Street architecture, having four -stately symmetrical corresponding façades, -overlooked by the dome of St. George's -Church. -</p> - -<p> -'Lawyers evidently thrive in Scotland,' -said Shafto, as he looked at the mansion of -Mr. Kippilaw, and mentally recalled the -modest establishment of Lawyer Carlyon; -'but foxes will flourish as long as there are -geese to be plucked.' -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Kippilaw was at home—indeed he was -just finishing breakfast, before going to the -Parliament House—as they were informed by -the liveried valet, who led them through a -pillared and marble-floored vestibule, and -ushered them into what seemed a library, as -the walls from floor to ceiling were lined -with handsome books; but every professional -man's private office has generally this -aspect in Scotland. -</p> - -<p> -In a few minutes Mr. Kippilaw appeared -with a puzzled and perplexed expression in -his face, as he alternatively looked at his two -visitors, and at Shafto's card in his hand. -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Kippilaw was now in his sixtieth year; -his long since grizzled hair had now become -white, and had shrunk to two patches far -apart, one over each ear, and brushed stiffly -up. His eyebrows were also white, shaggy, -and under them his keen eyes peered -sharply through the rims of a gold pince-nez -balanced on the bridge of his long aquiline -nose. -</p> - -<p> -Shafto felt just then a strange and unpleasant -dryness about his tongue and lips. -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Mr. Shafto Melfort?</i>' said Mr. Kippilaw -inquiringly, and referring to the card again. 'I -was not aware that there was a Mr. Shafto -Melfort—any relation of Lord Fettercairn?' -</p> - -<p> -'His grandson,' said Shafto unblushingly. -</p> - -<p> -'This gentleman with the dark eyes?' -asked Mr. Kippilaw, turning to the silent -Florian. -</p> - -<p> -'No—myself,' said Shafto sharply and -firmly. -</p> - -<p> -'You are most unlike the family, who have -always been remarkable for regularity of -features. Then you are the son—of—of—' -</p> - -<p> -'The late Major Lennard Melfort who died -a few weeks ago——' -</p> - -<p> -'Good Heavens, where?' -</p> - -<p> -'On the west coast of Devonshire, near -Revelstoke, where he had long resided under -the assumed name of MacIan.' -</p> - -<p> -'That of his wife?' -</p> - -<p> -'Precisely so—my mother.' -</p> - -<p> -'And this young gentleman, whose face -and features seem curiously familiar to me, -though I never saw him before, he is your -brother of course.' -</p> - -<p> -'No, my cousin, the son of my aunt Mrs. Gyle. -I am an only son, but the Major ever -treated us as if he had been the father of both, -so great and good was his kindness of heart.' -</p> - -<p> -'Be seated, please,' said the lawyer in a -breathless voice, as he seated himself in an -ample leathern elbow chair at his writing-table, -which was covered with documents and -letters all arranged by his junior clerk in the -most orderly manner. -</p> - -<p> -'This is very sudden and most unexpected -intelligence,' said he, carefully wiping his -glasses, and subjecting Shafto's visage to a -closer scrutiny again. 'Have you known all -these years past the real name and position of -your father, and that he left Kincardineshire -more than twenty years ago after a very grave -quarrel with his parents at Craigengowan?' -</p> - -<p> -'No—I only learned who he was, and who -we really were, when he was almost on his -deathbed. He confided it to me alone, as his -only son, and because I had been bred to the -law; and on that melancholy occasion he -entrusted me with this important packet -addressed to <i>you</i>.' -</p> - -<p> -With an expression of the deepest interest -pervading his well-lined face, Mr. Kippilaw -took the packet and carefully examined the -seal and the superscription, penned in a -shaky handwriting, with both of which he was -familiar enough, though he had seen neither -for fully twenty years, and finally he -examined the envelope, which looked old and -yellow. -</p> - -<p> -'If all be true and correct, these tidings will -make some stir at Craigengowan,' he muttered -as if to himself, and cut round the seal with a -penknife. -</p> - -<p> -'You will find ample proofs, sir, of all I -have alleged,' said Shafto, who now felt that -the crisis was at hand. -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Kippilaw, with growing interest and -wonder, drew forth the documents and read -and re-read them slowly and carefully, holding -the papers, but not offensively, between -him and the light to see if the dates and -water-marks tallied. -</p> - -<p> -'The slow way this old devil goes on -would exasperate an oyster!' thought Shafto, -whose apparently perfect coolness and -self-possession rather surprised and repelled the -lawyer. -</p> - -<p> -There were the certificate of Lennard's -marriage with Flora MacIan, which Mr. Kippilaw -could remember he had seen of old; -the 'certificate of entry of birth of their son, -born at Revelstoke at 6 h. 50 m. on the 28th -October P.M., 18—,' signed by the Registrar, -and the Major's farewell letter to his old -friend, entrusting his son and his son's -interests to his care. -</p> - -<p> -'But, hallo!' exclaimed Mr. Kippilaw, after -he had read for the second time, and saw that -the letter of Lennard Melfort was undoubtedly -authentic, 'how comes it that the whole of -your Christian name is <i>torn out</i> of the birth -certificate, and the surname <i>Melfort</i> alone -remains?' -</p> - -<p> -'Torn out!' exclaimed Shafto, apparently -startled in turn. -</p> - -<p> -'There is a rough little hole in the -document where the name <i>should be</i>. Do you -know the date of your birth?' asked -Mr. Kippilaw, partly covering the document with -his hand, unconsciously as it were. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—28th October.' -</p> - -<p> -'And the year?' -</p> - -<p> -Shafto gave it from memory. -</p> - -<p> -'Quite correct—as given here,' said -Mr. Kippilaw; 'but you look old for the date of -this certificate.' -</p> - -<p> -'I always looked older than my years,' -replied Shafto. -</p> - -<p> -Florian, who might have claimed the date -as that of his own birth, was—luckily for -Shafto—away at a window, gazing intently -on a party of soldiers marching past, with a -piper playing before them. -</p> - -<p> -'Another certificate can be got if necessary,' -said Mr. Kippilaw, as he glanced at the -Registrar's signature, a suggestion which -made Shafto's heart quake. 'It must have -come from the Major in this mutilated state,' -he added, re-examining with legal care and -suspicion the address on the envelope and -the seal, which, as we have said, he had cut -round; 'but it is strange that he has made -no mention of it being so in his letter to me. -Poor fellow! he was more of a soldier than a -man of business, however. Allow me to -congratulate you, Mr. Melfort, on your new -prospects. Rank and a very fine estate are -before you.' -</p> - -<p> -He warmly shook the hand of Shafto, who -began to be more reassured; and saying, 'I -must carefully preserve the documents for the -inspection of Lord Fettercairn,' he locked -them fast in a drawer of his writing-table, and -spreading out his coat-tails before the fire, -while warming his person in the fashion -peculiar to the genuine 'Britisher,' he eyed -Shafto benignantly, and made a few pleasant -remarks on the Fettercairn family, the -fertility and beauty of Craigengowan, the -stables, kennels, the shootings, and so forth, -and the many fine qualities of 'Leonard'—as -he called him—and about whom he asked -innumerable questions, all of which Shafto -could answer truly and with a clear conscience -enough, as he was master of all that. -</p> - -<p> -The latter was asked 'what he thought -of Edinburgh—if he had ever been there -before,' and so forth. Shafto remembered a -little 'Guide Book' into which he had -certainly dipped, so as to be ready for -anything, and spoke so warmly of the picturesque -beauties and historical associations of the -Modern Athens that the worthy lawyer's -heart began to warm to so intelligent a -young man, while of the silent Florian, -staring out into the sun-lit square and its -beautiful garden and statues, he took little -notice, beyond wondering <i>where</i> he had seen -his eyes and features before! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER X. -<br /><br /> -ALONE IN THE WORLD. -</h3> - -<p> -'And you were bred to the law, you say, -Mr. Melfort?' remarked the old Writer to the -Signet after a pause. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, in Lawyer Carlyon's office.' -</p> - -<p> -'Very good—very good indeed; that is -well! We generally think in Scotland that -a little knowledge of the law is useful, as it -teaches the laird to haud his ain; but I -forgot that you are southland bred, and -born too—the more is the pity—and can't -understand me.' -</p> - -<p> -Shafto did not understand him, but thought -that his time spent in Lawyer Carlyon's -office had not been thrown away now; -experience there had 'put him up to a trick or -two.' -</p> - -<p> -'I shall write to Craigengowan by the first -post,' said Mr. Kippilaw after another of -those thoughtful pauses during which he -attentively eyed his visitor. 'Lord and Lady -Fettercairn—like myself now creeping up the -vale of years—(Hope they may soon see -the end of it! thought Shafto) will, I have -no doubt, be perfectly satisfied by the sequence -and tenor of the documents you have brought -me that you are their grandson—the son of -the expatriated Lennard—and when I hear -from them I shall let you know the result -without delay. You are putting up at—what -hotel?' -</p> - -<p> -'At the Duke of Rothesay, in Princes Street.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah! very well.' -</p> - -<p> -'Thanks; I shall be very impatient to hear.' -</p> - -<p> -'And your cousin—he will, of course, go -with you to Craigengowan?' -</p> - -<p> -Shafto hesitated, and actually coloured, as -Florian could detect. -</p> - -<p> -'What are your intentions or views?' -Mr. Kippilaw asked the latter. -</p> - -<p> -'He failed to pass for the army,' said -Shafto bluntly and glibly, 'so I don't know -what he means to do <i>now</i>. I believe that he -scarcely knows himself.' -</p> - -<p> -'Have you no friends on your mother's -side, Mr. Florian?' -</p> - -<p> -'None!' said Florian, with a sad inflection -of voice. -</p> - -<p> -'Indeed! and what do you mean to do?' -</p> - -<p> -'Follow the drum, most probably,' replied -Florian bitterly and a little defiantly, as -Shafto's coldness, amid his own great and -good fortune, roused his pride and galled his -heart, which sank as he thought of Dulcie -Carlyon, sweet, golden-haired English Dulcie, -so far away. -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Kippilaw shook his bald head at the -young man's answer. -</p> - -<p> -'I have some little influence in many ways, -and if I can assist your future views you may -command me, Mr. Florian,' said he with -fatherly kindness, for he had reared—yea and -lost—more than one fine lad of his own. -</p> - -<p> -It has been said that one must know mankind -very well before having the courage to -be solely and simply oneself; thus, as Shafto's -knowledge of mankind was somewhat limited, -he felt his eye quail more than once under -the steady gaze of Mr. Kippilaw. -</p> - -<p> -'It is a very strange thing,' said the latter, -'that after the death of Mr. Cosmo in Glentilt, -when Lord and Lady Fettercairn were so -anxious to discover and recall his younger -brother as the next and only heir to the title -and estates, we totally failed to trace him. -We applied to the War Office for the -whereabouts of Major Lennard Melfort, but the -authorities there, acting upon a certain -principle, declined to afford any information. -Advertisements, some plainly distinct, others -somewhat enigmatical, were often inserted in -the <i>Scotsman</i> and <i>Times</i>, but without the -least avail. -</p> - -<p> -'As for the <i>Scotsman</i>,' said Shafto, 'the Major——' -</p> - -<p> -'Your father, you mean?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes,' said he, reddening, 'was no more -likely to see such a provincial print in -Devonshire than the Roman <i>Diritto</i> or the -Prussian <i>Kreuz Zeitung</i>; and the <i>Times</i>, if -he saw it—which I doubt—he must have -ignored. Till the time of his death drew -near, his feelings were bitter, his hostility to -his family great.' -</p> - -<p> -'I can well understand that, poor fellow!' -said Mr. Kippilaw, glancing at his watch, as -he added—'You must excuse me till -to-morrow: I am already overdue at the -Parliament House.' -</p> - -<p> -He bowed his visitors out into the sun-lit -square. -</p> - -<p> -'You seem to have lost your tongue, -Florian, and to have a disappointed look,' -said Shafto snappishly, as they walked -slowly towards the hotel together. -</p> - -<p> -'Disappointed I am in one sense, perhaps, -but I have no reason to repine or complain -save at our change of relative positions, but -certainly not at your unexpected good fortune, -Shafto. It is only right and just that your -father's only son should inherit all that is -legally and justly his.' -</p> - -<p> -Even at these words Shafto never winced -or wavered in plans or purpose. -</p> - -<p> -It was apparent, however, to Florian, that -he had for some time past looked restless -and uneasy, that he started and grew pale at -any unusual sound, while a shadow rested on -his not usually very open countenance. -</p> - -<p> -Betimes next morning a note came to him -at the Duke of Rothesay Hotel from -Mr. Kippilaw, requesting a visit as early as -possible, and on this errand he departed alone. -</p> - -<p> -He found the old lawyer radiant, with a -letter in his hand from Lord Fettercairn (in -answer to his own) expressive of astonishment -and joy at the sudden appearance of -this hitherto unknown grandson, whom he -was full of ardour and anxiety to see. -</p> - -<p> -'You will lose no time in starting for -Craigengowan,' said Mr. Kippilaw. 'You -take the train at the Waverley Station and -go <i>viâ</i> Burntisland, Arbroath, and Marykirk—or -stay, I think we shall proceed together, -taking your papers with us.' -</p> - -<p> -'Thanks,' said Shafto, feeling somehow -that the presence of Mr. Kippilaw at the -coming interview would take some of the -responsibility off his own shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -'Craigengowan, your grandfather says, will -put on its brightest smile to welcome you.' -</p> - -<p> -'Very kind of Craigengowan,' said Shafto, -who felt but ill at ease in his new role of -adventurer, and unwisely adopted a -free-and-easy audacity of manner. -</p> - -<p> -'A cheque on the Bank of Scotland for -present emergencies,' said Mr. Kippilaw, -opening his cheque-book, 'and in two hours -we shall meet at the station.' -</p> - -<p> -'Thanks again. How kind you are, my dear sir.' -</p> - -<p> -'I would do much for your father's son, -Mr. Shafto,' said the lawyer, emphatically. -</p> - -<p> -'And what about Florian?' -</p> - -<p> -'The letter ignores him—a curious omission. -In their joy, perhaps Lord and Lady Fettercairn -forgot. But, by the way, here is a letter -for him that came by the London mail.' -</p> - -<p> -'A letter for him!' said Shafto, faintly, -while his heart grew sick with apprehension, -he knew not of what. -</p> - -<p> -'Mr. Florian's face is strangely familiar to -me,' said Mr. Kippilaw aloud; but to himself, -'Dear me, dear me, where can I have seen -features like his before? He reminds me -curiously of Lennard Melfort.' -</p> - -<p> -Shafto gave a nervous start. -</p> - -<p> -The letter was a bulky one, and bore the -Wembury and other post-marks, and to -Shafto's infinite relief was addressed in the -familiar handwriting of Dulcie Carlyon. -</p> - -<p> -He chuckled, and a great thought worthy -of himself occurred to him. -</p> - -<p> -In the solitude of his own room at the -hotel, he moistened and opened the gummed -envelope, and drew forth four closely written -sheets of paper full of the outpourings of the -girl's passionate heart, of her wrath at the -theft of her locket by Shafto, and mentioning -that she had incidentally got the address of -Mr. Kippilaw from her father, and desiring -him to write to her, and she would watch for -and intercept the postman by the sea-shore. -</p> - -<p> -'Bosh,' muttered Shafto, as he tore up and -cast into the fire Dulcie's letter, all save a -postscript, written on a separate scrap of -paper, and which ran thus:— -</p> - -<p> -'You have all the love of my heart, Florian; -but, as I feel and fear we may never meet -again, I send you this, which I have worn -next my heart, to keep.' -</p> - -<p> -<i>This</i> was a tiny tuft of forget-me-nots. -</p> - -<p> -'Three stamps on all this raggabash!' -exclaimed Shafto, whom the girl's terms of -endearment to Florian filled with a tempest -of jealous rage. He rolled the locket he had -wrenched from Dulcie's neck in soft paper, -and placed it with the postscript in the -envelope, which he carefully closed and -re-gummed, placed near the fire, and the moment -it was perfectly dry he gave it to Florian. -</p> - -<p> -If the latter was surprised to see a letter to -himself, addressed in Dulcie's large, clear, -and pretty handwriting, to the care of 'Lawyer -Kippilaw,' as she called him, he was also -struck dumb when he found in the envelope -the locket, the likeness, and the apparently -curt farewell contained in one brief sentence! -</p> - -<p> -For a time he stood like one petrified. -Could it all be real? Alas! there was no -doubting the postal marks and stamps upon -this most fatal cover; and while he was -examining it and passing his hand wildly more -than once across his eyes and forehead, Shafto -was smoking quietly at a window, and to all -appearance intent on watching the towering -rock and batteries of the Castle, bathed in -morning sunshine—batteries whereon steel -morions and Scottish spears had often gleamed -of old. -</p> - -<p> -Though his soul shrank from doing so, -Florian could not resist taking Shafto into -his confidence about this unexplainable event; -and the latter acted astonishment to the life! -</p> - -<p> -Was the locket thus returned through the -post in obedience to her father's orders, after -he had probably discovered the contents of it? -</p> - -<p> -But Shafto demolished this hope by drawing -his attention to the tenor of the pithy -scrap of paper, which precluded the idea that -it had been done under any other influence -than her own change of mind. -</p> - -<p> -'Poor Florian!' sneered Shafto, as he -prepared to take his departure for Craigengowan; -'now you had better proceed at once to -cultivate the wear-the-willow state of mind.' -</p> - -<p> -Florian made no reply. His ideas of faith -and truth and of true women were suddenly -and cruelly shattered now! -</p> - -<p> -'She has killed all that was good in me, -and the mischief of the future will be at her -door!' he exclaimed, in a low and husky -voice. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Florian, don't say that,' said Shafto, -who actually did feel a little for him; and -just then, when they were on the eve of -separation, even his false and artful heart did -feel a pang, with the sting of fear, at the -career of falsehood to which he had committed -himself; but his ambition, innate greed, -selfishness, and pride urged him on that -career steadily and without an idea of flinching. -</p> - -<p> -After Mr. Kippilaw's remarks concerning -how the face of Florian interested him, and -actually that he bore a likeness to the dead -Major—to his own father, in fact—Shafto -became more than desirous to be rid of him -in any way. He thought with dread of the -discovery and fate of 'the Claimant,' and of -the fierce light thrown by the law on that -gigantic imposture; but genuine compunction -he had none! -</p> - -<p> -'Well,' he muttered, as he drove away from -the hotel with his portmanteau, 'I must -keep up this game at all hazards now. I -have stolen—not only Florian's name—but -his place, so let him paddle his own -canoe!' -</p> - -<p> -'I'll write you from Craigengowan,' were -his parting words—a promise which he never -fulfilled. Shafto, who generally held their -mutual purse now, might have offered to -supply the well-nigh penniless lad with money, -but he did not. He only longed to be rid of -him—to hear of him no more. He had a -dread of his presence, of his society, of his -very existence, and now had but one hope, -wish, and desire—that Florian Melfort should -cross his path never again. And now that -he had achieved a separation between him -and Dulcie, he conceived that Florian would -never again go near Revelstoke, of which -he—Shafto—had for many reasons a nervous -dread! -</p> - -<p> -Full of Dulcie and her apparently cruel -desertion of him, which he considered due to -calm consideration of his change of fortune—or -rather total want of it—Florian felt numbly -indifferent to the matter Shafto had in hand -and all about himself. -</p> - -<p> -While very nearly moved to girlish tears at -parting from one with whom he had lived -since infancy—with whom he had shared the -same sleeping-room, shared in the same sports -and studies—with whom he had read the -same books to some extent, and had ever -viewed as a brother—Florian was rather -surprised, even shocked, by the impatience -of that kinsman, the only one he had in all -the wide world, to part from him and begone, -and to see he was calm and hard as flint or -steel. -</p> - -<p> -'Different natures have different ways of -showing grief, I suppose,' thought the simple -Florian; 'or can it be that he still has a -grudge at me because of the false but winsome -Dulcie? If affection for me is hidden -in his heart, it is hidden most skilfully.' No -letter ever came from Craigengowan. The -pride of Florian was justly roused, and he -resolved that he would not take the initiative, -and attempt to open a correspondence with -one who seemed to ignore him, and whose -manner at departing he seemed to see more -clearly and vividly now. -</p> - -<p> -The fact soon became grimly apparent. -He could not remain idling in such a fashionable -hotel as the Duke of Rothesay, so he -settled his bill there, and took his portmanteau -in his hand, and issued into the streets—into -the world, in fact. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XI. -<br /><br /> -SHAFTO IN CLOVER. -</h3> - -<p> -About six months had elapsed since Shafto -and Florian parted, as we have described, at -Edinburgh. -</p> - -<p> -It was June now. The luxurious woods -around Craigengowan were in all their leafy -beauty, and under their shadows the dun -deer panted in the heat as they made their -lair among the feathery braken; the emerald -green lawn was mowed and rolled till it was -smooth as a billiard-table and soft as -three-pile velvet. -</p> - -<p> -The air was laden with the wafted fragrance -of roses and innumerable other flowers; and -the picturesque old house, with its multitude -of conical turrets furnished with glittering -vanes, its crow-stepped gables and massive -chimneys, stood boldly up against the deep -blue sky of summer; and how sweetly peaceful -looked the pretty village, seen in middle -distance, through a foliated vista in the -woodlands, with the white smoke ascending -from its humble hearths, the only thing that -seemed to be stirring there; and how beautiful -were the colours some of its thatched -roofs presented—greenest moss, brown lichen, -and stonecrop, now all a blaze of gold, while -the murmur of a rivulet (a tributary of the -Esk), that gurgled under its tiny arch, 'the -auld brig-stane' of Lennard's boyhood, would -be heard at times, amid the pleasant voices -of some merrymakers on the lawn, amid the -glorious shrubberies, and belts of flowers -below the stately terrace, that had long since -replaced the moat that encircled the old -fortified mansion, from whence its last Jacobite -lord had ridden forth to fight and die for -James VIII., on the field of Sheriffmuir—King -of Scotland, England, France, and -Ireland, as the unflinching Jacobites had it. -</p> - -<p> -A gay and picturesquely dressed lawn-tennis -party was busy tossing the balls from -side to side among several courts; but apart -from all, and almost conspicuously so—a -young fellow, in a handsome light tennis suit -of coloured flannels, and a beautiful girl were -carrying on a very palpable flirtation. -</p> - -<p> -The gentleman was Shafto, and his companion -was Finella Melfort, Cosmo's orphan -daughter (an heiress through her mother), -who had returned a month before from a -protracted visit in Tyburnia. They seemed -to be on excellent terms with each other, and -doubtless the natural gaiety of the girl's -disposition, her vivacity of manner, and their -supposed mutual relationship, had opened the -way to speedy familiarity. -</p> - -<p> -She was a dark-haired and dark-eyed, but -very white-skinned little beauty, with a perfect -<i>mignonne</i> face, a petite but round and compact -figure, gracefully formed, and very -coquettish and <i>spirituelle</i> in all her ways. -</p> - -<p> -She had received her peculiar Christian -name at the special request of her grandfather, -that silly peer being desirous that her name -might go down in the peerage in connection -with that of the famous Finella of Fettercairn. -</p> - -<p> -'A winsome pair they would make,' was -the smiling remark of Mr. Kenneth Kippilaw, -who was of the party (with three romping -daughters from Edinburgh), to Lord Fettercairn, -who smirked a grim assent, as if it -was a matter of indifference to him, which -it was not, as his legal adviser very well -knew; and my Lady Drumshoddy, who heard -the remark, bestowed upon him a bright -and approving smile in return for a knowing -glance through the glasses of his gold -<i>pince-nez</i>. -</p> - -<p> -In Craigengowan the adventurous Shafto -Gyle had found his veritable Capua—he was -literally 'in clover.' Yet he never heard -himself addressed by his assumed name -without experiencing a strange sinking and -fluttering of the heart. -</p> - -<p> -The once-despised Lennard Melfort's -sword, his commission, and his hard-won -medals earned in Central India and the Terai -of Nepaul were now looked upon as precious -relics in his mother's luxurious boudoir at -Craigengowan, and reclaimed from the -lumber-attic, his portrait, taken in early life, -was again hung in a place of honour in the -dining-hall. -</p> - -<p> -'What a fool my old uncle was to lose his -claim on such a place as this, and all for the -face of a girl!' was the exclamation of Shafto -to himself when first he came to Craigengowan, -and then he looked fearfully around -him lest the word <i>uncle</i> might have been -overheard by some one; and he thought—'If -rascally the trick I have played my simple -and love-stricken cousin—and rascally it was -and is—surely it was worth while to be the -heir of this place, Craigengowan. To reckon -as mine in future all this grand panorama of -heath-clad hills, of green and golden fields, -of purple muirland, and stately woods of oak -and pine where the deer rove in herds; as -mine the trout-streams that flow towards the -Bervie; the cascades that roar down the -cliffs; the beautiful old house, with its stables, -kennels, and terrace; its cellars, pictures, -plate, and jewellery, old china and vases of -marble and jasper, china and Japanese work; -and I possess all that rank and wealth can -give!' and so thought this avaricious rascal, -with a capacity for evil actions far beyond his -years. -</p> - -<p> -To the fair inheritance he had come to -steal he could not, however, add as his the -blue sky above it, or the waves of the German -Sea, which the North Esk flowed to join; -but he was not without sense appreciative -enough to enjoy the fragrance of the teeming -earth, of the pine forests where the brown -squirrels leaped from branch to branch, and -on the mountain side the perfume of the -golden whin and gorse. -</p> - -<p> -Appraising everything, these ideas were -ever recurring to his mind, and it was full of -them now as he looked around him, and at -times, like one in a dream, heard the pretty -babble of the high-bred, coquettish girl, who, -to amuse herself, made <i>œillades</i> at him; who -called him so sweetly 'Cousin Shafto,' and -who, with her splendid fortune, he was now -beginning to include among the many goods -and chattels which must one day accrue to him. -</p> - -<p> -Lord and Lady Fettercairn were, of course, -fully twenty years older than when we saw -them last, full of wrath and indignation at -Lennard for his so-called <i>mésalliance</i>. Both -were cold in heart and self-absorbed in nature -as ever. The latter was determined to be a -beauty still, though now upon the confines of -that decade 'when the cunning of cosmetics -can no longer dissemble the retribution of -Time the avenger.' The former was bald -now, and the remains of his once sandy-coloured -hair had become grizzled, and a -multitude of puckers were about his cold, -grey eyes, while there was a perceptible -stoop in his whilom flat, square shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -He was as full of family pride as ever, and -the discovery of an unexpected and authentic -heir and grandson to his title, that had never -been won in the field or cabinet, but was -simply the reward of bribery and corruption, -and for which not one patriotic act had been -performed by four generations, had given -him intense satisfaction, and caused much -blazing of bonfires and consumption of alcohol -about the country-side; and smiles that were -bright and genuine frequently wreathed the -usually pale and immobile face of Lady -Fettercairn when they rested on Shafto. -</p> - -<p> -We all know how the weak and easy adoption -of a pretender by a titled mother in a -famous and most protracted case not many -years ago caused the most peculiar -complications; thus Lady Fettercairn was more -pardonable, posted up as she was with -documentary evidence, in accepting Shafto Gyle -as her grandson. -</p> - -<p> -We have described her as being singularly, -perhaps aristocratically, cold. As a mother, -she had never been given to kissing, caressing, -or fondling her two sons (as she did a -succession of odious pugs and lap-dogs), but, -throwing their little hearts back upon -themselves, left nurses and maids to 'do all that -sort of tiresome thing.' -</p> - -<p> -So Finella, though an heiress, came in for -very little of it either, with all her sweetness, -beauty, and pretty winning ways, even -from Lord Fettercairn. In truth, the man -who cared so little for his own country and -her local and vital interests was little likely -to care much for any flesh and blood that did -not stand in his own boots. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Fettercairn heard from her 'grand-son' -from time to time with—for her—deep -apparent sympathy, and much genuine aristocratic -regret and indignation, much of the -obscure story of his boyhood and past life, at -least so much as he chose to tell her; and -she bitterly resented that Lennard Melfort -should have sought to put the 'nephew of -that woman, Flora MacIan,' into the army, -while placing 'his own son' Shafto into the -office of a miserable village lawyer, and so -forth—and so forth! -</p> - -<p> -Fortunate it was, she thought, that all this -happened in an obscure village in Devonshire, -and far away from Craigengowan and all its -aristocratic surroundings. -</p> - -<p> -She also thought it strange that -Shafto—('Whence came that name?' she would -mutter angrily)—should be so unlike her -dark and handsome Lennard. His eyebrows -were fair and heavy; his eyes were a pale, -watery grey; his lips were thin, his neck -thick, and his hair somewhat sandy in hue. -Thus, she thought, he was not unlike what -her husband, the present Lord Fettercairn, -must have been at the same age. -</p> - -<p> -As for the Peer himself, he was only too -thankful that an heir had turned up for his -ill-gotten coronet, and that now—so far as one -life was concerned—Sir Bernard Burke would -not rate it among the dormant and attainted -titles—those of the best and bravest men that -Scotland ever knew. -</p> - -<p> -As for their mutual scheme concerning -Shafto and their granddaughter Finella, with -her beauty and many attractive parts, the -former was craftily most desirous of furthering -it, knowing well that, <i>happen what might</i> -in the future, she was an heiress; that -marriage with her would give him a firm -hold on the Fettercairn family, though the -money of her mother was wisely settled on -the young lady herself. -</p> - -<p> -Indeed, Finella had not been many -weeks home from London, at Craigengowan, -before Lady Fettercairn opened the trenches, -and spoke pretty plainly to him on the -subject. -</p> - -<p> -Waving her large fan slowly to and fro, -and eyeing Shafto closely over the top of it, -she said: -</p> - -<p> -'I hope, my dearest boy, that you will find -your cousin Finella—the daughter of my -dead darling Cosmo—a lovable kind of girl. -But even were she not so—and all say she -is—you must not feel a prejudice against her, -because—because——' -</p> - -<p> -'What, grandmother?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because it is our warmest desire that you -may marry her.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why, haven't I money enough?' asked -Shafto, with one of his dissembling smiles. -</p> - -<p> -'Of course, as the heir of Fettercairn; but -one is always the better to have more, and -you must not feel——' -</p> - -<p> -'What?' asked Shafto, with affected impatience. -</p> - -<p> -'Please not to interrupt me thus. I mean -that you must not be prejudiced against her -as an expected<i> parti</i>.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why should I?' -</p> - -<p> -'One hears and reads so much of such -things.' -</p> - -<p> -'In novels, I suppose; but as she is so -pretty and eligible, why the dickens——' -</p> - -<p> -'Shafto!' -</p> - -<p> -'What now?' he asked, with some irritability, -as she often took him to task for his -solecisms. -</p> - -<p> -'Dickens is not a phrase to use. Exclamations -that were suited to the atmosphere -of Mr. Carlyon's office in Devonshire will -not do in Craigengowan!' -</p> - -<p> -'Well—she won't look at me with your -eyes, grandmother.' -</p> - -<p> -'How—her eyes——' -</p> - -<p> -'They will never seem so bright and -beautiful.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, you flattering pet!' exclaimed my -Lady Fettercairn, with a smile and pleased -flush on her old wrinkled face, for her 'pet' -had soon discovered that she was far from -insensible to adulation. -</p> - -<p> -Shafto certainly availed himself of the -opportunities afforded by 'cousinship,' -propinquity, and residence together in a country -house, and sought to gain a place in the good -graces or heart of Finella; but with all his -cunning and earnest wishes in the matter—apart -from the wonderful beauty of the girl—he -feared that he made no more progress -with her than he had done with Dulcie Carlyon. -</p> - -<p> -She talked, played, danced, and even -romped with him; they rambled and read -together, and were as much companions as -any two lovers would be; but he felt nearly -certain that though she flirted with him, -because it was partly her habit to appear to -do so with most men, whenever he attempted -to become tender she openly laughed at him -or changed the subject skilfully; and also -that if he essayed to touch or take her hand -it was very deliberately withdrawn from his -reach, and never did she make him more -sensible of all this than when he contrived to -draw her aside to the terrace on the afternoon -of the lawn-tennis party. -</p> - -<p> -She had long ere this been made perfectly -aware that love and marriage were objects of -all his attention, yet she amused herself with -him by her coquettish <i>œillades</i> and waggish -speeches. -</p> - -<p> -'Finella,' said he, in a low and hesitating -voice, as he stooped over her, 'I hope that -with all your flouting, and pretty, flippant -mode of treating me, you will see your way -to carry out the fondest desire of my heart -and that of our grandparents.' -</p> - -<p> -'Such a fearfully elaborate speech! And -the object to which I am to see my way is to -marry you, cousin Shafto?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes,' said he, bending nearer to her -half-averted ear. -</p> - -<p> -'Thanks very much, dear Shafto; but I -couldn't think of such a thing.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why? Am I so distasteful to you?' -</p> - -<p> -'Not at all; but for cogent reasons of my own.' -</p> - -<p> -'And these are?' -</p> - -<p> -'Firstly, people should marry to please -themselves, not others. Grandpapa and -grandmamma did, and so shall I; and I am -quite independent enough to do as I please -and choose.' -</p> - -<p> -'In short, you will not or cannot love me?' -</p> - -<p> -'I have not said so, you tiresome Shafto!' -said she, looking upward at him with one of -her sweetest and most bewitching smiles. -</p> - -<p> -'Then I have some hope, dear Finella?' -</p> - -<p> -'I have not said that either.' -</p> - -<p> -'You may yet love me, then?' -</p> - -<p> -'No; not as you wish it.' -</p> - -<p> -'But why?' -</p> - -<p> -'You have no right to ask me.' -</p> - -<p> -His fair beetling eyebrows knit, and a -gleam came into his cold, grey eyes as he -asked, after a pause: -</p> - -<p> -'Is there anyone else you prefer?' -</p> - -<p> -'You have no right to inquire,' replied she, -and a keener observer might have detected -that his question brought a tiny blush to her -cheek and a fond smile to her curved lips; 'so -please to let this matter drop, once and for -ever, dear Shafto, and we can be such -delightful friends—such jolly cousins.' -</p> - -<p> -And so ended one of many such conversations -on this topic—conversations that -developed indifference, if not quite aversion, -on the part of Finella, the clue to which -Shafto was fated to find in a few weeks after. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XII. -<br /><br /> -VIVIAN HAMMERSLEY. -</h3> - -<p> -The persistent attentions of Shafto were -alternately a source of amusement and worry -to Finella Melfort; and when she found them -become the latter, she had more than once -retreated to the residence of her maternal -grandmother, Lady Drumshoddy, though she -infinitely preferred being at Craigengowan, -where the general circle was more refined -and of a much better style; for Lady -Drumshoddy—natheless her title—was not quite -one of the 'upper ten,' being only the widow -of an advocate, who, having done without -scruple the usual amount of work to please -his party and the Lord Advocate, had been -rewarded therefor by an appointment (and -knighthood) in Bengal, where he had gone, -at a lucky time, with the old advice and -idea— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'They bade me from the Rupee Tree<br /> - Pluck India's endless riches,<br /> - And then I swore that time should see<br /> - Huge pockets in my breeches.'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -Thus Sir Duncan Drumshoddy's pockets -were so well filled that when he came home -to die, his daughter was heiress enough to be -deemed a 'great catch' by the Fettercairn -family, though her grandfather had been—no -one knew precisely what. -</p> - -<p> -And now Finella, by education, careful -training, and by her own habit of thought, -was naturally so refined that, with all her -waggery and disposition to laughter and -merriment, Shafto's clumsy love-speeches -occasionally irritated her. -</p> - -<p> -'I have somewhere read,' said he, 'that a -man may get the love of the girl he wants, -even if she cares little for him, if he only -asks her at the right time; but, so far as you -are concerned, Finella, the right moment has -not come for me, I suppose.' -</p> - -<p> -'Nor ever will come, I fear, cousin Shafto,' -she replied, fanning herself, and eyeing him -with mingled fun and defiance sparkling in -her dark eyes. -</p> - -<p> -Ere Shafto could resume on this occasion -Lord Fettercairn came hurriedly to him, saying, -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, by-the-bye, young Hammersley, -from London, will arrive here to-morrow for -a few weeks' grouse-shooting before he -leaves for his regiment in Africa. You will -do your best to be attentive to him, Shafto.' -</p> - -<p> -'Of course,' said the latter, rather sulkily, -however, all the more so that he was quick -enough to detect that, at the mention of the -visitor's name, a flush like a wave of colour -crossed the cheek of Finella. -</p> - -<p> -Something in his tone attracted the -attention of Lord Fettercairn, who said, -</p> - -<p> -'After the 12th I hope you will find a -legitimate use for your gun—you know what -I mean.' -</p> - -<p> -Shafto coloured deeply with annoyance, as -his grandfather referred to a mischievous act -of his, which was deemed a kind of outrage -in the neighbourhood. -</p> - -<p> -In the ruins of Finella's Castle at Fettercairn -a pair of majestic osprey had built their -nest, guarded by the morass around them, -and there they bred and reared a pair of -beautiful eaglets. No one had been allowed -to approach them, so that nothing should -occur to break the confidence of safety which -the pair of osprey acquired in their lonely -summer haunt, till soon after Shafto came to -Craigengowan, and by four rounds from his -breech-loader he contrived to shoot them all, -to the indignation of the neighbourhood and -even of my Lord Fettercairn. -</p> - -<p> -Not that the latter cared a straw about -these eagles as objects of natural history; but -the fact of their existence formed the subject -of newspaper paragraphs, and his vanity was -wounded on finding that one of his family -had acted thus. -</p> - -<p> -So on the morrow, at luncheon, the family -circle at Craigengowan had two or three -accessions to its number—friends invited for -the 12th of August—among others Mr. Kippilaw -the younger, a spruce and dapper -Edinburgh Writer to the Signet, 'who,' -Shafto said, 'thought no small beer of -himself;' and Vivian Hammersley, a captain of -the Warwickshire regiment, a very attractive -and, to one who was present, most decided -addition to their society. -</p> - -<p> -His regular features were well tanned by -the sun in Natal; his dark hair was shorn -short; his moustaches were pointed well out; -and his dark eyes had a bright and merry yet -firm and steady expression, as those of a man -born to command men, who had more than -once faced danger, and was ready to face it -again. -</p> - -<p> -He was in his twenty-seventh year, and -was every way a courteous and finished -English gentleman, though Shafto, in his -secret heart, and more than once in the -stables, pronounced him to be 'a conceited -beast.' -</p> - -<p> -Hammersley had fished in Norway, shot -big game in Southern Africa, hunted in the -English shires, taking his fences—even double -ones—like a bird; he had lost and won with a -good grace at Ascot and the Clubs, flirted 'all -round,' and, though far from rich, was a good -specimen of a handsome, open-handed, and -open-hearted young officer, a favourite with -all women, and particularly with his regiment. -</p> - -<p> -After luncheon he was seated beside Lady -Fettercairn; he was too wise in his generation -to have placed himself where he would have -wished, beside Finella, whose little hand, on -entering, Shafto thought he retained in his -rather longer than etiquette required; for if -Shafto's eyes were shifty, they were particularly -sharp, and he soon found that though -Finella, to a certain extent, had filled up her -time by flirting in a cousinly way with himself, -'now that this fellow Hammersley had come,' -he was 'nowhere' as he thought, with a very -bad word indeed. -</p> - -<p> -We have said that Finella had paid a -protracted and—to her—most enjoyable visit -to Tyburnia. There at balls, garden parties, -and in the Row she had met Vivian Hammersley -repeatedly; and these meetings had -not been without a deep and tender interest -to them both; and when they were parted -finally by her return to Craigengowan, though -no declaration of regard had escaped him, he -had been burning to speak to her in that -sweet and untutored language by which the -inmost secrets of the loving heart can be read; -and now that they had met again, they had -a thousand London objects to talk about -safely in common, which made them seem to -be what they were, quite old friends in fact, -and erelong Lady Fettercairn began, like -Shafto, to listen and look darkly and doubtfully on. -</p> - -<p> -But when they were alone, which was seldom, -or merely apart from others, there was -between them a new consciousness now—a -secret but sweet understanding, born of eye -speaking to eye—all the sweeter for its -secrecy and being all their own, a conscious -emotion that rendered them at times almost -afraid to speak or glance lest curious eyes or -ears might discover what that secret was. -</p> - -<p> -What was to be the sequel to all this? -Hammersley was far from rich according to -the standard of wealth formed by Lady -Fettercairn, and the latter had destined her -granddaughter with all her accumulated -wealth to be the bride of Shafto. -Hammersley knew nothing of this; he only knew -his own shortcoming in the matter of 'pocketability;' -but then youth, we are told, 'is -sanguine and full of faith and hope in an -untried future. It looks out over the pathway -of life towards the goal of its ambition, seeing -only the end desired, and giving little or no -heed to hills and dales, storms and accidents, -that may be met with on the way.' So, -happy in the good fortune that threw him -once more in the sweet society of bright -Finella Melfort, Captain Hammersley gave -full swing in secret to the most delightful of -day-dreams. -</p> - -<p> -In all this, however, we are somewhat -anticipating our narrative. -</p> - -<p> -But, like a wise man, while the luncheon -lasted he was most attentive to his hostess, -from whose old but still handsome face, like -that of Tennyson's Maud, 'so faultily faultless, -icily regular, and splendidly null,' he ever and -anon turned to that of Finella—that <i>mignonne</i> -face, which was so full of varying expression, -warmth, light, and colour. -</p> - -<p> -'Try that Madeira, Captain Hammersley,' -said Lord Fettercairn. 'You will scarcely -credit how long I have had it in the cellar. -I bought a whole lot of it—when was it, -Grapeston?' he asked, turning to the solemn -old butler behind him. -</p> - -<p> -'The year Mr. Lennard left home, my Lord.' -</p> - -<p> -'Everything at Craigengowan seems to -take date before or after that event,' said -Lord Fettercairn, with knitted brow. 'Do -you mean for India, Grapeston?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, my lord,' replied the butler, who -had carried 'Master Lennard' in his arms as a baby. -</p> - -<p> -'Such a rich flavour it has, and just glance -at the colour.' -</p> - -<p> -Hammersley affected to do so, but his eyes -were bent on the face of Finella. -</p> - -<p> -'I hope you won't find Craigengowan dull, -but every place is so after London.' -</p> - -<p> -'True, we live so fast there that we never -seem to have time to do anything.' -</p> - -<p> -And now, understanding that Shafto was -to be his chief companion at the covies on -the morrow, Hammersley talked to him of -hammerless guns, of central fire, of the mode -of breaking in dogs, training setters, and so -forth; and as these subjects had not been -included in Shafto's education at Lawyer -Carlyon's office, he almost yawned as he -listened with irritation to what he could not comprehend. -</p> - -<p> -'If you care for fishing, Hammersley,' said -Lord Fettercairn, 'the Bervie yields capital -salmon, sea and yellow trout. Finella has -filled more than one basket with the latter, -but Shafto is somewhat of a duffer with his -rod—he breaks many a rod, and has never -landed a salmon yet.' -</p> - -<p> -'And the shootings?' said Hammersley inquiringly. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, the best in the county are Drumtochty, -Fasque, Hobseat, and my own, as I -hope you will find to-morrow.' -</p> - -<p> -'Thanks—indeed, I am sure I shall.' -</p> - -<p> -'I have close on 5,000 acres, and the -probable bag of grouse and black game is -from 400 to 500 brace.' -</p> - -<p> -After dinner that evening Finella was -found singing at the piano—singing, as she -always did, without requiring pressure and -apparently for the mere pleasure of it, as a -thrush on a rose bush sings; but now she -sang for Vivian Hammersley, Shafto felt -instinctively that she did so, and his bitterness -was roused when he heard her, in a pause, whisper: -</p> - -<p> -'Please, Captain Hammersley, let Shafto -turn the leaves. He likes to do it, though he -can do little else in the way of music.' -</p> - -<p> -This kind of confidence seemed to imply -foregone conclusions and a mutual understanding, -however slight; but, to some extent, -Finella had a kind of dread of Shafto. -</p> - -<p> -Hammersley smiled and drew back, after -placing a piece of music before her; but not -before remarking: -</p> - -<p> -'This song you are about to sing is not a new one.' -</p> - -<p> -'No—it is old as the days when George -IV. was king—it is one you gave me some -weeks ago in London, you remember?' -</p> - -<p> -'Am I likely to forget?' -</p> - -<p> -'Turn the leaves, Shafto, please,' said -Finella, adjusting her dress over the -music-stool; 'but don't talk to me.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'It interrupts one so; but turn the leaves -at the proper time.' -</p> - -<p> -'Captain Hammersley will do that better -than I,' said Shafto, drawing almost sulkily -away, while the former resumed his place by -Finella, with an unmistakable smile rippling -over his face. -</p> - -<p> -This song, which, it would seem, Hammersley -had given her, was an old one, long -since forgotten, named the 'Trysting Place,' -and jealous anger gathered in Shafto's heart -as he listened and heard Hammersley's voice -blend with Finella's in the last line of each -verse: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'We met not in the sylvan scene<br /> - Where lovers wish to meet,<br /> - Where skies are bright and woods are green,<br /> - And bursting blossoms sweet;<br /> - But in the city's busy din,<br /> - Where Mammon holds his reign,<br /> - Sweet intercourse we sought to win<br /> - 'Mid fashion, guile, and gain;<br /> - Above us was a murky sky,<br /> - Around a crowded space,<br /> - Yet dear, my love, to thee and me,<br /> - Was this, our <i>trysting place</i>.'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'They are who say Love only dwells<br /> - 'Mid sunshine, light, and flowers;<br /> - Alike to him are gloomy cells<br /> - Or gay and smiling bowers;<br /> - Love works not on insensate things<br /> - His sweet and magic art;<br /> - No outward shrine arrests his wings,<br /> - His home is in the heart;<br /> - And dearest hearts like <i>thine</i> and <i>mine</i>,<br /> - With rapture must retrace—<br /> - How often Love has deigned to shine<br /> - On this our <i>trysting place</i>.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -'Miss Melfort, you have sung it more -sweetly than ever!' said Hammersley in a -low voice as he bent over her. -</p> - -<p> -'Confound him!' muttered Shafto to himself; -'where was this trysting place? I feel -inclined to put a charge of shot into him -to-morrow. I will, too, if the day is foggy!' -</p> - -<p> -Finella, though pressed, declined to sing -more, as the Misses Kippilaw, who were -rather irrepressible young ladies, now -proposed a carpet-dance, and she drew on her -gloves; and while she fumbled away, almost -nervously, with the buttoning of one, she knew -that Hammersley's eyes were lovingly and -admiringly bent on her, till he came to the -rescue, and did the buttoning required; and -to Shafto it seemed the process was a very -protracted one, and was a pretty little -connivance, as in reality it was. -</p> - -<p> -Miss Prim, Lady Fettercairn's companion, -was summoned, and she—poor creature—had -to furnish music for the occasion, till at -last Finella good-naturedly relieved her. -</p> - -<p> -So a carpet-dance closed the evening, and -then Shafto, though an indifferent waltzer, -thought he might excel in a square dance -with Finella; but he seldom shone in conversation -at any time, and on this occasion his -attempts at it proved a great failure, and -when he compared this with the animation of -Hammersley and Finella in the Lancers, he -was greatly puzzled and secretly annoyed. -The former did not seem to undergo that -agony so often felt by Shafto, of having -out-run all the topics of conversation, or to have -to rack his brain for anecdotes or jokes, but -to be able to keep up an easy flow of -well-bred talk on persons, places, and things, -which seemed to amuse Finella excessively, -as she smiled brightly and laughed merrily -while fanning herself, and looking more -sparkling and piquante than ever. -</p> - -<p> -'What the deuce can he find to say to -her?' thought Shafto; but Hammersley was -only finding the links—the threads of a dear -old story begun in London months ago. -</p> - -<p> -So passed the first day of Hammersley's -arrival at Craigengowan, and Finella laid her -head on her pillow full of bright and happy -thoughts, in which 'Cousin Shafto' bore no -share. -</p> - -<p> -But while these emotions and events were -in progress, where, in the meantime, was -Florian? Ay, Shafto Gyle, where? -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap13"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIII. -<br /><br /> -AMONG THE GROUSE. -</h3> - -<p> -Nathless the vengeful thoughts of the -unamiable Shafto and his threats muttered in -secret, the shooting next day passed off -without any peril being encountered by -the unconscious Hammersley—unconscious at -least of the enmity his presence was inspiring. -However, it was not so the second; and -Finella and her fair friends agreed that if he -looked so well and handsome in his heather-coloured -knickerbocker shooting-dress, with -ribbed stockings of Alloa yarn, his gun under -his arm, and shot-belt over his shoulder, how -gallant must he look when in full uniform. -</p> - -<p> -In the field the vicinity of Shafto was -avoided as much as possible, as he shot wildly -indeed. By the gamekeepers, servants, and -people generally on the estate he was simply -detested for the severity of his manner, his -tyranny, his disposition to bully, and meanness -in every way; though at first, when he came -to Craigengowan, they had laboured in vain, -and vied with each other in their attempts -to initiate him into those field-sports so dear -to Britons generally, and to the Scots in -particular; but when shooting grouse -especially, the beaters or 'drivers' had genuine -dread of him, and, when fog was on, sometimes -refused to attend him, and he was, as -they said among themselves, 'a new -experience i' the Howe o' the Mearns.' -</p> - -<p> -'I've seen as fu' a haggis toomed on a -midden,' said the old head-gamekeeper wrathfully, -as he drew his bonnet over his beetling -brows, 'but I'll keep my mind to mysel', and -tell my tale to the wind that blaws o'er -Craigengowan.' -</p> - -<p> -Though well past sixty now, Lord Fettercairn, -hale and hearty, was in the field with -his central-fire gun with fine Damascus -barrels. Shafto, Hammersley, young Kippilaw, -and four others made up the party. -</p> - -<p> -The morning was a lovely one, and lovely -too was the scenery, for August is a month -richly tinted with the last touches of summer, -blended with the russet tones of autumn; the -pleasant meadows are yet green, and over the -ripened harvest the breeze murmurs like the -ocean when nearly asleep. -</p> - -<p> -Apart from the joyous exhilaration of -shooting, and that out-door exercise so dear -to every English gentleman, Vivian -Hammersley felt all that which comes from the -romantic beauty of his surroundings—the -scenery of the Howe of the Mearns, which -is a low champaign and highly cultivated -country, studded with handsome mansions, -and ornamented by rich plantations and -thriving villages. -</p> - -<p> -Ere long the open muirs were reached, and -the hill-sides, the steep, purple ridges of -which the sportsmen had to breast; and, -keen sportsman though he was, Hammersley -had soon to admit that grouse-shooting was -the most fatiguing work he had yet -encountered; but soon came the excitements of -the first point, the first brood, and the first -shot or two. -</p> - -<p> -To the eye chiefly accustomed to brown -partridges, grouse look dusky and even black, -and they seem to hug the purple heather, but -when one becomes accustomed to them they -are as easy to knock over as the tame birds; -and now the crack of the guns began to ring -out along the hill-slopes. -</p> - -<p> -Shafto and Hammersley were about twenty -yards apart, and twice when a bird rose -before the latter, it was brought down -wounded but not killed by the former. -</p> - -<p> -Hammersley felt that this was 'bad form,' -as Shafto should not have fired, unless he -had missed or passed it; but he only bit his -lip and smiled disdainfully. Lord Fettercairn -remarked the discourtesy, and added, -</p> - -<p> -'Shafto, I do wish you would take an -example from Captain Hammersley.' -</p> - -<p> -'In what way?' grumbled Shafto. -</p> - -<p> -'He kills his game clean—few birds -run from him with broken wings and so -forth.' -</p> - -<p> -'I am glad to hit when I can,' said Shafto, -whose mode of life in Devonshire had made -him rather soft, and he was beginning to -think that nerves of iron and lungs like a -bagpipe were requisite for breasting up the -hill-slopes, and then shoot straight at anything. -</p> - -<p> -Hammersley worked away silently, neither -looking to his right nor left, feeling that -though several elements are requisite for -'sport,' the chief then was to kill as much -grouse as possible in a given time, but was -more than once irritated and discomposed by -Shafto, and even young Kippilaw, shooting in -a blundering way along the line even when -the birds were not flying high; and he -proceeded in a workmanlike way to bring -down one bird as it approached, the next -when it was past him, and so on. -</p> - -<p> -The first portion of the day the Fettercairn -party shot to points, and then to drivers, and -in their fear of Shafto's wild shooting, the -latter kept shouting while driving, and, as he -loathed the whole thing, and was now -'completely blown—pumped out,' as he phrased it, -he was not sorry when the magic word -'lunch' was uttered; and Hammersley -certainly hailed it, for with the lunch came -Finella, and with her arrival—to him—the -most delightful part of the day. -</p> - -<p> -She came tooling along the sunny pathway -that traversed the bottom of a glen, driving -with her tightly gauntleted and deft little -hands a pair of beautiful white ponies, which -drew the daintiest of basket-phaetons, -containing also Mr. Grapeston and an ample -luncheon-basket; and the place chosen for -halting was a green oasis amid the dark -heather, where a spring of deliciously cool -water was bubbling up, called Finella's Well. -</p> - -<p> -'Now, gentlemen,' said Lord Fettercairn, -'please to draw your cartridges. I was once -nearly shot in this very place by a stupid -fellow who omitted to do so. So glad you -have come, Finella darling, we are all hungry -as hawks, and thirsty too.' -</p> - -<p> -Lovely indeed did the piquante girl look -in her coquettish hat and well-fitting jacket, -while the drive, the occasion, and the touch -of Hammersley's hand as he assisted her to -alight gave her cheek an unwonted colour, -and lent fresh lustre to her dark eyes, and -the soldier thought that certainly there was -nothing in the world so pleasant to a man's -eye as a young, well-dressed, and beautiful girl. -</p> - -<p> -'You have had good sport,' said she to the -group, while her eye rested on Hammersley, -and then on the rows of grouse laid by braces -on the grass; and she 'brought a breeze -with her,' as the gentlemen thought, and had -a pleasant remark for each. Her mode of -greeting the members of the party was -different, as to some she gave her hand like -a little queen, while to others she smiled, or -simply bowed; but provoked an angry snort -from Shafto by expressing a hope that he -'had not shot anyone yet.' -</p> - -<p> -And then he grew white as he recalled his -angry thoughts of the preceding night. -</p> - -<p> -'Why did you take the trouble to drive -here?' he asked her, in a low voice. -</p> - -<p> -'Because I chose to come; and I do so -love driving these plump darlings of ponies,' -replied the girl, patting the sleek animals -with her tiny, slim hand. -</p> - -<p> -'Old Grapeston would have done well -enough; and why did you not bring one of -the Kippilaw girls?' -</p> - -<p> -'They are at lawn-tennis. If I thought I -could please you—not an easy task—I should -have tried to bring them all, though that is -rather beyond the capacities of my phaeton.' -</p> - -<p> -Shafto never for a moment doubted that -she had come over to superintend the -luncheon because 'that fellow Hammersley' -was one of the party; and in this suspicion -perhaps he was right. -</p> - -<p> -As for Hammersley, being ignorant of -Shafto's antecedents, his present hopes, and -those of Lady Fettercairn, he could not -comprehend how the grandson and heir-apparent -of a peer came to be 'such bad form—bad -style, and all that sort of thing,' as he -thought; and all that became rather worse -when Shafto was under the influence of -sundry bumpers of iced Pommery Greno -administered by Mr. Grapeston. -</p> - -<p> -As the sportsmen lounged on the grass, -and the luncheon proceeded under the -superintendence of old Jasper Grapeston, -Finella, the presiding goddess, looked -unusually bright and happy—a consummation -which Shafto never doubted, in his rage and -jealousy, came of the presence of Vivian -Hammersley, and that her brilliance was all -the result of another man's society—not his -certainly, and hence he would have preferred -that she was not light-hearted at all. -</p> - -<p> -He could see that with all her <i>espieglerie</i> -Finella found no occasion to laugh at -Hammersley or tease or snub that gentleman as -she did himself, but the attentions of -Hammersley were delicately and seductively paid. -Deferential and gentle at all times, to all -women, he had always been so to Finella -Melfort, and she was able to feel more than -his words, looks, or manner suggested to -others; and he imagined—nay, he was -becoming certain—and a glow of great joy came -with the certainty—that Finella's sweet dark -eyes grew brighter at his approach; that a -rose-leaf tinge crossed her delicate cheek, and -there came a slight quiver into her voice -when she replied to him, -</p> - -<p> -'Was it all really so?' -</p> - -<p> -Fate was soon to decide that which he had -been too slow or timid to decide for himself. -</p> - -<p> -As he said one of the merest commonplaces -to her, their eyes met. -</p> - -<p> -It was only one lingering glance! -</p> - -<p> -But looks can say so much more than the -voice, the eyes surpassing the lips, breaking -or revealing what the silence of months, it -may be years, has hidden, and leading heart -to heart. -</p> - -<p> -'Grandpapa,' said Finella, suddenly, and -just before driving off, 'do you shoot over -this ground to-morrow?' -</p> - -<p> -'To a certain extent we shall—but why?' -</p> - -<p> -'Shall I bring the luncheon here?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, pet, to Finella's Well.' -</p> - -<p> -'So, then, this shall be our trysting-place!' -said she, with a bow to all, and a merry -glance which included most certainly Vivian -Hammersley, to whom the landscape seemed -to darken with her departure. -</p> - -<p> -'Now is the time for shooting to advantage,' -said Lord Fettercairn, who knew -by old experience that when the afternoon -shadows, and more especially those of evening, -begin to lengthen, the slopes of the hills are -seen better, that the birds, too, lie better, -and that as the air becomes more fresh and -cool, men can shoot with greater care and -deliberation than in the heat of noon. But -Hammersley, full of his own thoughts, full of -the image of Finella and that tale-telling -glance they had exchanged, missed nearly -every bird, to the great exultation of Shafto, -who made an incredible number of bad and -clumsy jokes thereon—jokes which the young -Englishman heard with perfect indifference -and equanimity. -</p> - -<p> -Shafto, however, scarcely foresaw the -result of the next day's expedition, and -certainly Hammersley did not do so either. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap14"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIV. -<br /><br /> -THE TWO FINELLAS. -</h3> - -<p> -Next day, when the grouse-shooting had -been in progress for an hour or two, a -mishap occurred to Hammersley. He twisted -his ankle in a turnip-field, fell heavily on -one side, and staggered up too lame to take -further share in the sport for that day at -least. -</p> - -<p> -'When Finella comes with the lunch in -the pony-phaeton, she will drive you home,' -said Lord Fettercairn, who then desired -one of the beaters to give Hammersley -the assistance of an arm to the well, -where the repast was to be laid out as -before. -</p> - -<p> -When Shafto saw his rival limping he was -delighted, and thought, 'This will mar his -waltzing for a time at least;' but he was less -delighted when he heard of Lord Fettercairn's -natural suggestion. -</p> - -<p> -'It is likely a cunning dodge,' was his next -thought, 'to get a quiet drive with her to -Craigengowan.' -</p> - -<p> -And Finella's look and exclamation of -alarm and interest were not lost upon him -when she arrived and found Hammersley -seated on the grass by the side of the well, -and saw the difficulty with which he rose to -greet her, propping himself upon his unloaded -gun as he did so; and soft, indeed, was the -blush of pleasure that crossed her delicate -face when she heard of 'grandpapa's arrangement;' -and certainly it met, secretly, with the -entire approbation of Hammersley, who -anticipated with delight the drive home with such -a companion. -</p> - -<p> -After a time the luncheon—though skilfully -protracted by Shafto—was over, and -Finella and her 'patient' were together in -the phaeton, and she, with a smile and farewell -bow, whipped up her petted ponies, Flirt -and Fairy, whom every day she fed with -apples and carrots. -</p> - -<p> -Shafto thought jealously and sulkily that -she was in great haste to be gone; but more -sulky would he have been had he seen, or -known that when once an angle of the glen -was reached where the road dipped out of -sight, the ponies were permitted to go at -their own pace, which ere long dwindled into -a walk, till they passed the vast ruined castle -of Fettercairn. Finella and Hammersley -were, however, if very happy, very silent, -though both enjoyed the drive in the bright -sunshine amid such beautiful scenery, and he -quite forgot his petty misfortune in contemplating -the delicate profile and long drooping -eyelashes of the girl who sat beside him, and -who, with a fluttering heart, was perhaps -expecting the avowal that trembled on his lips, -especially when he placed his hand on hers, -in pretence of guiding the ponies, which -broke into a rapid trot as the lodge gates -were passed; and glorious as the opportunity -accorded him had been, Hammersley's heart, -while burning with passionate ardour, seemed -to have lost all courage, for he had a sincere -dread of Lady Fettercairn, and suspected -that her interests were naturally centred in -Shafto. -</p> - -<p> -At seven-and-twenty a man, who has -knocked about the world, with a regiment -especially, for some nine years or so, does -not fall over head and ears in love like a -rash boy, or without calculating his chances -of general success; and poor Hammersley, -though he did not doubt achieving it with -Finella herself, saw deadly rocks and breakers -ahead with her family, and his spirit was a -proud one. To make a declaration was to -ruin or lose everything, for if the family were -averse to his suit he must, he knew, quit -their roof for ever, and Finella would be lost -to him, for heiresses seldom elope now, save -in novels; and he knew that in her circle the -motives for marriage are more various and -questionable than with other and untitled -ranks of life. Rank and money were the -chief incentives of such people as the -Melforts of Fettercairn. 'Venal unions,' -says an essayist, 'no doubt occur in the -humbler classes, but love is more frequently -the incentive, while with princes and -patricians the conjugal alliance is, in nine -instances out of ten, a mere matter of <i>expedience</i>.' -</p> - -<p> -Craigengowan was reached, and not a -word of the great secret that filled his heart -had escaped him, for which he cursed his -own folly and timidity when the drive ended, -and a groom took the ponies' heads. -</p> - -<p> -Yet the day was not over, nor was a -fresh opportunity wanting. Lady Fettercairn -and all her female quests had driven to a -flower-show at the nearest town—even -Mrs. Prim was gone, and the house was empty! -</p> - -<p> -Everything in and about Craigengowan -seemed conducive to love-talk and -confidences. The great and picturesque house -itself was charming. The old orchards -would ere long be heavy with fruit, and were -then a sight to see; on the terrace the -peacocks were strutting to and fro; there were -fancy arbours admirably adapted for flirtation, -and a quaint old Scottish garden (with a sun -and moon dial) now gay with all the flowers -of August. -</p> - -<p> -On a lounge near an open window facing -the latter Hammersley was reclining, when -Finella, after changing her driving dress, -came into the drawing-room, and finely her -costume suited her dark and piquante style -of beauty. She wore a cream-coloured silk, -profusely trimmed with filmy lace, and a -cluster of scarlet flowers on the left shoulder -among the lace of the collarette that encircled -her slender neck; and Hammersley, as he -looked at her, thought that 'beauty -unadorned' was rather a fallacy. -</p> - -<p> -His undisguised expression of admiration -as he partly rose to receive her caused her to -colour a little, as she inquired if his hurt was -easier now; but, instead of replying, he -said, while venturing slightly to touch her -hand: -</p> - -<p> -'Tell me, Miss Melfort, how you came by -your dear pretty name of Finella? Not -from Finella in "Peveril of the Peak"?' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah, I am very unlike her!' -</p> - -<p> -'You are certainly quite as charming!' -</p> - -<p> -'But neither dumb nor pretending to be -so,' said the girl, with one of her silvery little -laughs. -</p> - -<p> -'Finella!' said Hammersley, as if to -himself, in a low and unconsciously loving -tone; 'whence the name? Is it a family one?' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't you know?' she asked. -</p> - -<p> -'How could I know? I know only that I -will never forget it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Of course you could not know. The -origin of my name is one of the oldest legends -of the Howe of the Mearns.' -</p> - -<p> -'Howe—that is Scotch for "hollow," I -believe.' -</p> - -<p> -'No; "hollow" is the English for <i>howe</i>,' -replied Finella, laughing, as she recalled a -quip of Boucicault's to the same purpose. -'You saw the great old castle we passed in -our drive home?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, I am called Finella from a lady who -lived there.' -</p> - -<p> -'After it fell into ruin?' -</p> - -<p> -'No; before it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then she must have lived a precious long -time ago.' -</p> - -<p> -'She certainly did—some—nearly a -thousand years ago.' -</p> - -<p> -'What a little quiz you are! Now, Miss -Melfort, what joke is this?' -</p> - -<p> -'No joke at all,' said she, quite seriously; -'you can read about it in our family history—or -I shall read it to you in the "Book of -Fettercairn."' -</p> - -<p> -She took from a table near a handsome -volume, which her grandfather—to please -whom she was named Finella—had in a -spirit of family vanity prepared for private -circulation, and as if to connect his title with -antiquity, prefaced by a story well known in -ancient Scottish history, though little known -to the Scots of the present day. -</p> - -<p> -We give it from his Lordship's book -verbatim as she read it to Vivian -Hammersley, who—cunning rogue—was not -indisposed with such a charming and -sympathetic companion as Finella to make the -most of his fall, and reclined rather luxuriously -on the velvet lounge, while she, seated in a -dainty little chair, read on; but he scarcely -listened, so intent was he on watching her -sweet face, her white and perfect ears, her -downcast eyelids with their long lashes—her -whole self! -</p> - -<p> -The Melforts, Lords Fettercairn (Strathfinella) -and of that Ilk, take their hereditary -title from the old castle of that name, which -stands in the Howe of the Mearns, and is -sometimes called the Castle of Finella. It -is situated on an eminence, and is now -surrounded on three sides by a morass. It -is enclosed within an inner and an outer wall -of oblong form, and occupying half an acre of -ground. The inner is composed of vitrified -matter, but no lime has been used in its -construction. The walls are a congeries of -small stones cemented together by some -molten matter, now harder than the stones -themselves; and the remarkable event for -which this castle is celebrated in history is -the following: -</p> - -<p> -When Kenneth III., a wise and valiant -king (who defeated the Danes at the battle -of Luncarty, and created on that field the -Hays, Earls of Errol, Hereditary Constables -of Scotland, and leaders of the Feudal -cavalry, thus originating also the noble -families of Tweeddale and Kinnoull), was on -the throne, his favourite residence was the -castle of Kincardine, the ruins of which still -remain about a mile eastward of the village -of Fettercairn, and from thence he went -periodically to pay his devotions at the -shrine of St. Palladius, Apostle of the Scots, -to whom the latter had been sent by Pope -Celestine in the sixth century to oppose -the Pelagian heresy, and whose bones at -Fordoun were enclosed in a shrine of gold -and precious stones in 1409 by the Bishop of -St. Andrews. -</p> - -<p> -The king had excited the deadly hatred -of Finella, the Lady of Fettercairn, daughter -of the Earl of Angus, by having justly put to -death her son, who was a traitor and had -rebelled against him in Lochaber; and, with -the intention of being revenged, she prepared -at Fettercairn a singular engine or 'infernal -machine,' with which to slay the king. -</p> - -<p> -This engine consisted of a brass statue, -which shot out arrows when a golden apple -was taken from its hand. -</p> - -<p> -Kenneth was at Kincardine, engaged in -hunting the deer, wolf, the badger and the -boar, when she treacherously invited him to -her castle of Fettercairn, which was then, -as Buchanan records, 'pleasant with shady -groves and piles of curious buildings,' of -which there remained no vestiges when he -wrote in the days of James VI.; and thither -the king rode, clad in a rich scarlet mantle, -white tunic, an eagle's wing in his helmet, -and on its crest a glittering <i>clach-bhuai</i>, or -stone of power, one of the three now in the -Scottish regalia. -</p> - -<p> -Dissembling her hate, she entertained the -king very splendidly, and after dinner -conducted him out to view the beauties of the -place and the structure of her castle; and -Kenneth, pleased with her beauty (which her -raiment enhanced), for she wore a dress of -blue silk, without sleeves, a mantle of fine -linen, fastened by a brooch of silver, and all -her golden hair floating on her shoulders, -accompanied her into a tower, where, in an -upper apartment, and amid rich festooned -arras and 'curious sculptures' stood the -infernal machine. -</p> - -<p> -She courteously and smilingly requested -the king to take the golden apple from the -right hand of the statue; and he, amazed by -the strange conceit, did so; on this a rushing -sound was heard within it as a string or cord -gave way, and from its mouth there came -forth two barbed arrows which mortally -wounded him, and he fell at her feet. -</p> - -<p> -Finella fled to Den Finella, and Kenneth -was found by his retinue '<i>bullerand in his -blude</i>.' -</p> - -<p> -Den Finella, says a writer, is said, in the -genuine spirit of legendary lore, to have -obtained its name from this princess, who, -the more readily to evade her pursuers, -stepped from the branches of one tree to -those of another the whole way from her -castle to this den, which is near the sea, in -the parish of St. Cyres, as all the country -then was a wild forest. -</p> - -<p> -Buchanan deems all this story a fable, -though asserted by John Major and Hector -Boece, and thinks it more probable that the -king was slain near Fettercairn in an ambush -prepared by Finella. -</p> - -<p> -So ended the legend. -</p> - -<p> -As the girl read on, Vivian Hammersley -had bent lower and lower over her, till the -tip of his moustache nearly touched her rich -dark hair, and his arm all but stole round -her. Finella Melfort was quite conscious of -this close proximity, and though she did not -shrink from it, that consciousness made her -colour deepen and her sweet voice become unsteady. -</p> - -<p> -'That is the story of Finella of Fettercairn,' -said she, closing the book. -</p> - -<p> -'And to this awful legend of the dark -ages, which only wants blue-fire, lime-light, -and a musical accompaniment to set it off, -you owe your name?' said he, laughingly. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—it was grandfather's whim.' -</p> - -<p> -'It is odd that you—the belle of the last -London season, should be named after such a -grotesque old termagant!' -</p> - -<p> -She looked up at him smilingly, and then, -as their eyes met, the expression of that -glance exchanged beside the well on the hills -came into them again; heart spoke to heart; -he bent his face nearer hers, and his arm -went round her in earnest. -</p> - -<p> -'Finella, my darling!' escaped him, and as -he kissed her unresisting lips, her blushing -face was hidden on his shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -And <i>this</i> tableau was the result of the two -days' shooting—a sudden result which neither -Shafto nor Hammersley had quite foreseen. -</p> - -<p> -Of how long they remained thus neither -had any idea. Time seemed to stand still -with them. Finella was only conscious of -his hand caressing hers, which lay so willingly -in his tender, yet firm, clasp. -</p> - -<p> -Hammersley in the gush of his joy felt -oblivious of all the world. He could think -of nothing but Finella, while the latter -seemed scarcely capable of reflection at all -beyond the existing thought that he loved -her, and though the avowal was a silent and -unuttered one, the new sense of all it admitted -and involved, seemed to overwhelm the girl; -her brightest day-dreams had come, and she -nestled, trembling and silent, by his side. -</p> - -<p> -The unwelcome sound of voices and also -of carriage-wheels on the terrace roused -them. He released her hand, stole one -more clinging kiss, and forgetful of his fall -and all about it started with impatience to -his feet. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Fettercairn and her lady guests had -returned from the flower-show, and to avoid -them and all the world, for a little time yet, -the lovers, with their hearts still beating too -wildly to come down to commonplace, tacitly -wandered hand in hand into the recesses of a -conservatory, and lingered there amid the -warm, flower-scented atmosphere and shaded -aisles, in what seemed a delicious dream. -</p> - -<p> -Finella was conscious that Vivian -Hammersley was talking to her lovingly and -caressingly, in a low and tender voice as he -had never talked before, and she felt that -she was 'Finella'—the dearest and sweetest -name in the world to him—and no more -Miss Melfort. -</p> - -<p class="t3"> -* * * * -</p> - -<p> -It would be difficult, and superfluous -perhaps, to describe the emotions of these -two during the next few days. -</p> - -<p> -Though now quite aware that Finella and -Hammersley had met each other frequently -before, Shafto's surprise at their intimacy, -though apparently undemonstrative, grew -speedily into suspicious anger. He felt -intuitively that <i>his</i> presence made not the -slightest difference to them, though he did -not forget it; and he failed to understand -how 'this fellow' had so quickly -gained his subtle and familiar position with -Finella.' -</p> - -<p> -It galled him to the quick to see and feel -all this, and know that he could never please -her as she seemed to be pleased with -Hammersley; for her colour heightened, her eyes -brightened, and her eyelashes drooped and -flickered whenever he approached or -addressed her. -</p> - -<p> -Shafto thought of his hopes of gaining -Finella and her fortune against any discovery -that might be made of the falsehood of his -position, and so wrath and hatred gathered -in his heart together. -</p> - -<p> -He was baffled at times by her bright -smiles and pretty, irresistible manner, but -nevertheless he 'put his brains in steep' to -scheme again. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap15"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XV. -<br /><br /> -AT REVELSTOKE AGAIN. -</h3> - -<p> -Meanwhile sore trouble had come upon -Dulcie Carlyon in her Devonshire home. -</p> - -<p> -Her father had been dull and gloomy of -late, and had more than once laid his hand -affectionately on her ruddy golden hair, and -said in a prayerful way that 'he hoped he -might soon see her well married, and that she -might never be left friendless!' -</p> - -<p> -'Why such thoughts, dear papa?' she would -reply. -</p> - -<p> -Dulcie had felt a sense of apprehension for -some time past. Was it born of her father's -forebodings, or of the presentiment about -which she had conversed with Florian? A -depression hung over her—an undefinable -dread of some great calamity about to happen. -At night her sleep was restless and broken, -and by day a vague fear haunted her. -</p> - -<p> -The evil boded was to happen soon now. -</p> - -<p> -With these oppressive thoughts mingled -the memory of the tall and handsome dark-eyed -lad she loved—it seemed so long ago, -and she longed to hear his voice again, and -for his breast to lay her head upon. But -where was Florian now? Months had passed -without her hearing of him, and she might -never hear again! -</p> - -<p> -Little could she have conceived the foul -trick that Shafto had played them both in the -matter of the locket; but, unfortunately for -herself, she had not seen the last of that -enterprising young gentleman. -</p> - -<p> -She felt miserably that her heart was lonely -and heavy, and that, young as she was, light -and joy, with the absence and ruin of Florian, -had gone out of her life. She was alone -always with her great sorrow, and longed -much for tears; but as her past life had been -a happy and joyous one, Dulcie Carlyon had -been little—if at all—given to them. -</p> - -<p> -One morning her father did not appear at -breakfast as usual. As yet undressed her -red-golden hair, that the old man loved to stroke -and caress, was floating in a great loose mass -on her back and shoulders, and her blue eyes -looked bright and clear, if thoughtful. -</p> - -<p> -She had, as was her daily wont, arranged -his letters, cut and aired the morning papers -for him, adjusted a vase of fresh flowers on -the table, with a basket of delicate peaches, -which she knew he liked, from the famous -south wall of the garden, with green fig -leaves round them, for Dulcie did everything -prettily and tastefully, however trivial. Then -she cut and buttered his bread, poured out his -tea, and waited. -</p> - -<p> -Still he did not appear. She knocked on -his bedroom door, but received no answer, -and saw, with surprise, that his boots were -still on the mat outside. -</p> - -<p> -She peeped in and called on him—'Papa, -papa!' but there was no response. -</p> - -<p> -The room was empty, and the morning sun -streamed through the uncurtained window. -The bed had not been slept in! Again she -called his name, and rushed downstairs in -alarm and affright. -</p> - -<p> -The gas was burning in his writing-room; -the window was still closed as it had been -overnight; and there, in his easy chair, with -his hands and arms stretched out on the table, -sat Llewellen Carlyon, with his head bent -forward, asleep as Dulcie thought when she saw him. -</p> - -<p> -'Poor papa,' she murmured; 'he has actually -gone to sleep over his horrid weary work.' -</p> - -<p> -She leaned over his chair; wound her soft -arms round his neck and bowed grey head—her -lovely blue eyes melting with tenderness, -her sweet face radiant with filial love, till, as -she laid her cheek upon it, a mortal chill -struck her, and a low cry of awful dismay escaped her. -</p> - -<p> -'What is this—papa?' -</p> - -<p> -She failed to rouse him, for his sleep was -the sleep of death! -</p> - -<p> -It was disease of the heart, the doctors -said, and he had thus passed away—died in -harness; a pen was yet clutched in his right -hand, and an unfinished legal document lay beneath it. -</p> - -<p> -Dulcie fainted, and was borne away by the -servants to her own room—they were old and -affectionate country folks, who had been long -with Llewellen Carlyon, and loved him and -his daughter well. -</p> - -<p> -Poor Dulcie remained long unconscious, -the sudden shock was so dreadful to her, and -when she woke from it, the old curate, -Mr. Pentreath, who had baptized Florian and -herself, was standing near her bed. -</p> - -<p> -'My poor bruised lamb,' said he, kindly -and tenderly, as he passed his wrinkled hand -over her rich and now dishevelled tresses. -</p> - -<p> -'What has happened?' she asked wildly. -</p> - -<p> -'You fainted, Dulcie.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why—I never fainted before.' -</p> - -<p> -'She don't seem to remember, sir,' whispered -an old servant, who saw the vague and -wild inquiring expression of her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'Drink this, child, and try to eat a morsel,' -said the curate, putting a cup of coffee and -piece of toast before her. -</p> - -<p> -'Something happened—something -dreadful—what was it—oh, what was it?' asked -Dulcie, putting her hands to her throbbing temples. -</p> - -<p> -'Drink, dear,' said the curate again. -</p> - -<p> -She drank of the coffee thirstily; but -declined the bread. -</p> - -<p> -'I beat up an egg in the coffee,' said he; -'I feared you might be unable to eat yet.' -</p> - -<p> -Her blue eyes began to lose their wandering -and troubled look, and to become less -wild and wistful; then suddenly a shrill cry -escaped her, and she said, with a calmness -more terrible and painful than fainting or hysterics: -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, I remember now—papa—poor papa—dead! -Found dead! Oh, my God! help -me to bear it, or take me too—take me too!' -</p> - -<p> -'Do not speak thus, child,' said Mr. Pentreath gently. -</p> - -<p> -'How long ago was it—yesterday—a -month ago, or when? I seem—I feel as if -I had grown quite old, yet you all look just -the same—just the same; how is this?' -</p> - -<p> -'My child,' said the curate, with dim eyes, -'your dire calamity happened but a short time -ago—little more than an hour since.' -</p> - -<p> -Her response was a deep and heavy sob, -that seemed to come from her overcharged -heart rather than her slender throat, and -which was the result of the unnatural tension -of her mind. -</p> - -<p> -'Come to my house with me,' said the -kind old curate; but Dulcie shook her head. -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot leave papa, dead or alive. I -wish to be with him, and alone.' -</p> - -<p> -'I shall not leave you so; it is a mistake -in grief to avoid contact with the world. -The mind only gets sadder and deeper into -its gloom of melancholy. If you could but -sleep, child, a little.' -</p> - -<p> -'Sleep—I feel as if I had been asleep for -years; and it was this morning, you tell -me—only this morning I had my arms round -his neck—dead—my darling papa dead!' -</p> - -<p> -She started to her feet as if to go where -the body lay under the now useless hands of -the doctor, but would have fallen had she not -clutched for support at Mr. Pentreath, who -upheld and restrained her. -</p> - -<p> -The awful thought of her future loneliness -now that she had thus suddenly lost her -father, as she had not another relation in the -world, haunted the unhappy Dulcie, and -deprived her of the power of taking food or -obtaining sleep. -</p> - -<p> -In vain her old servants, who had known -her from infancy, coaxed her to attempt -both, but sleep would not come, and the food -remained untasted before her. -</p> - -<p> -'A little water,' she would say; 'give me -a little water, for thirst parches me.' -</p> - -<p> -All that passed subsequently seemed like -one long and terrible dream to Dulcie. She -was alone in the world, and when her father -was laid in his last home at Revelstoke, within -sound of the tumbling waves, in addition to -being alone she found herself well-nigh penniless, -for her father had nothing to leave her -but the old furniture of the house they had -inhabited. -</p> - -<p> -That was sold, and she was to remain with -the family of the curate till some situation -could be procured for her. -</p> - -<p> -She had long since ceased to expect any -letter from or tidings of Florian. She began -to think that perhaps, amid the splendour of -his new relations, he had forgotten her. Well, -it was the way of the world. -</p> - -<p> -Never would she forget the day she quitted -her old home. Her father's hat, his coat and -cane were in the hall; all that he had used and -that belonged to him were still there, to bring -his presence before her with fresh poignancy, -and to impress upon her that she was fatherless, -all but friendless, and an orphan. -</p> - -<p> -The superstitious people about Revelstoke -now remembered that in Lawyer Carlyon's -garden, blossom and fruit had at the same time -appeared on more than one of his apple-trees, -a certain sign of coming death to one of his -household. But who can tell in this -ever-shifting world what a day may bring forth! -</p> - -<p> -One evening—she never forgot it—she had -been visiting her father's grave, and was -slowly quitting the secluded burial-ground, -when a man like a soldier approached her -in haste. -</p> - -<p> -'Florian!' She attempted to utter his -name, but it died away on her bloodless lips. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap16"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVI. -<br /><br /> -''TIS BUT THE OLD, OLD STORY.' -</h3> - -<p> -A poet says: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Not by appointment do we meet delight<br /> - And joy: they need not our expectancy.<br /> - But round some corner in the streets of life,<br /> - They on a sudden clasp us with a smile.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Florian it was who stood before her, but -though he gazed at her earnestly, wistfully, -and with great pity in his tender eyes as he -surveyed her pale face and deep mourning, -he made no attempt to take the hands she -yearningly extended towards him. She saw -that he was in the uniform of a private soldier, -over which he wore a light dust-coat as a sort -of disguise, but there was no mistaking his -glengarry—that head-dress which is odious -and absurd for English and Irish regiments, -and which in his instance bore a brass -badge—the sphinx, for Egypt. -</p> - -<p> -He looked thin, gaunt, and pale, and anon -the expression of his eye grew doubtful and -cloudy. -</p> - -<p> -'Florian!' exclaimed Dulcie in a piercing -voice, in which something of upbraiding -blended with tones of surprise and grief; and -yet the fact of his presence seemed so unreal -that she lingered for a moment before she -flung herself into his arms, and was clasped -to his breast. 'Oh, what is the meaning of -this dress?' she asked, lifting her face and -surveying him again. -</p> - -<p> -'It means that I am a soldier—like him -whose son I thought myself—a soldier of the -Warwickshire Regiment,' replied Florian with -some bitterness of tone. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, my God, and has it come to this!' -said Dulcie wringing her interlaced fingers. -'Could not Shafto—your cousin——' -</p> - -<p> -'Shafto cast me off—seemed as if he could -not get rid of me too soon.' -</p> - -<p> -'How cruel, when he might have done so -much for you, to use you so!' -</p> - -<p> -'I had no other resort, Dulcie; I would -not stoop to seek favours even from him, and -our paths in life will never cross each other -again; but a time may come—I know not -when—in which I may seek forgiveness of -enemies as well as friends—the bad and the -good together—for a soldier's life is one of -peril.' -</p> - -<p> -'Of horror—to me!' wailed Dulcie, weeping -freely on his breast. -</p> - -<p> -'This tenderness is strange, Dulcie! Why -did you cast me off in my utter adversity and -return to me my locket?' -</p> - -<p> -Dulcie looked up in astonishment. -</p> - -<p> -'What <i>do</i> you mean, Florian—have you -lost your senses?' she asked in sore perplexity. -'Where have you come from last?' -</p> - -<p> -'Plymouth; in a paper there I saw a notice -of your terrible loss, and resolved to see, even -if I could not speak with you.' -</p> - -<p> -'And you came——' -</p> - -<p> -'To see you, my lost darling, once again. -Oh, Dulcie, I thought I should die if I left -England and sailed for Africa without doing -so. I got a day's leave and am here.' -</p> - -<p> -'But why have you done this?' -</p> - -<p> -'This—what?' -</p> - -<p> -'Soldiering!' -</p> - -<p> -'Penniless, hopeless, what else could I -do?—besides, I thought you had cast me off -when you sent me back this locket,' he added, -producing the gift referred to. -</p> - -<p> -'That locket was stolen from me on the -night you left Revelstoke—literally wrenched -from my neck, as I told you in my letter—the -letter you never answered.' -</p> - -<p> -'I received no letter, Dulcie—but your -locket was taken from you by whom?' -</p> - -<p> -'Shafto.' -</p> - -<p> -'The double villain! He must have intercepted -that letter, and utilised the envelope -with its postmarks and stamps to deceive me, -and effect a breach between us.' -</p> - -<p> -'Thank God you came, dearest Florian!' -</p> - -<p> -'I thought you had renounced me, Dulcie, -and now I almost wish you had.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'It is little use to remember me now—I -am so poor and hopeless.' -</p> - -<p> -'After all,' said she, taking his face between -her hands caressingly, 'what does poverty -matter if we love each other still?' -</p> - -<p> -'And you love me, Dulcie—love me yet!' -exclaimed Florian passionately. -</p> - -<p> -'And shall never, never cease to do so.' -</p> - -<p> -'But I am so much beneath you now in -position, Dulcie—and—and——' his voice -broke. -</p> - -<p> -'What, darling?' -</p> - -<p> -'May never rise.' -</p> - -<p> -'Would I be a true woman if I forsook you -because you were unfortunate?' -</p> - -<p> -'No; but you are more than a woman, -Dulcie—you are a golden-haired angel!' -</p> - -<p> -'My poor Florian, how gaunt and hollow -your cheeks are! You have suffered——' -</p> - -<p> -'Much since last we parted here in dear -old Devonshire. But Shafto's villainy -surpasses all I could have imagined!' -</p> - -<p> -'And where is Shafto now?' -</p> - -<p> -'With his grand relations, I suppose. I -am glad that we have unravelled that which -was to me a source of sorrow and dismay—the -returned locket. So you cannot take -back your heart, Dulcie, nor give me mine?' -said Florian. -</p> - -<p> -'Nor would I wish to do so,' she replied, -sweetly and simply. 'Though poor, we are -all the world to each other now.' -</p> - -<p> -'Hard and matter-of-fact as our every-day -existence is, there is—even in these -railway times—much of strange and painful -romance woven up with many a life; and -so it seems to be with mine—with ours, -Dulcie.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh that I were rich, Florian, or that you -were so!' exclaimed the girl, as a great pity -filled her heart, when she thought of her -lover's blighted life, their own baffled hopes, -and the humble and most perilous course that -was before him in South Africa, where the -clouds of war were gathering fast. 'I, too, -am poor, Florian—very poor; dear papa died -involved, leaving me penniless, and I must -cast about to earn my own bread.' -</p> - -<p> -'This is horrible—how shall I endure it?' -said he fiercely, while regarding her with a -loving but haggard expression in his dark eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'What would you have done if you had not -met me by chance here?' -</p> - -<p> -'Loafed about till the last moment, and -then done something desperate. I <i>would</i> have -seen you, and after that—the Deluge! In -two days we embark at Plymouth,' he added, -casting a glance at the old church of -Revelstoke and its burying-ground. 'There our -parents lie, Dulcie—yours at least, and those -that I, till lately, thought were mine. There -is something very strange and mysterious in -this change of relationship and position -between Shafto and myself. I cannot understand -it. Why was I misled all my life by -one who loved me so well? How often have -I stood with the Major by a gravestone -yonder inscribed with the name of Flora -MacIan and heard him repeat while looking -at it— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'A thousand would call the spot dreary<br /> - Where thou takest thy long repose;<br /> - But a rude couch is sweet to the weary,<br /> - And the frame that suffering knows.<br /> - I never rejoiced more sincerely<br /> - Than at thy funeral hour,<br /> - Assured that the one I loved dearly<br /> - Was beyond affliction's power!<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -Why did he quote all this to me, and tell -me never to forget that spot, or who was -buried there, if she was only Shafto's aunt, -and not my mother?' -</p> - -<p> -Florian felt keenly for the position of -Dulcie Carlyon, and the perils and mortifications -that might beset her path now; but -he was too young, too healthy and full of -animal life and spirits, to be altogether -weighed down by the thought of his humble -position and all that was before him; and -now that he had seen her again, restored to -her bosom the locket, and that he knew she -was true to him, and had never for a moment -wavered in her girlish love, life seemed to -become suddenly full of new impulses and -hopes for him, and he thought prayerfully -that all might yet be well for them both. -</p> - -<p> -But when? -</p> - -<p> -To Dulcie there seemed something noble -in the hopeful spirit that, under her influence, -animated her grave lover now. He seemed -to become calm, cool, steadfast, and, hap -what might, she felt he would ever be true -to her. -</p> - -<p> -He seemed brave and tender and true—'tender -and true' as a Douglas of old, and -Dulcie thought how pleasant and glorious it -would be to have such a handsome young husband -as he to take care of her always, and see -that all she did was right and proper and wise. -</p> - -<p> -A long embrace, and he was gone to catch -the inexorable train. She was again alone, -and for the first time she perceived that the -sun had set, that the waves looked black as -they rounded Revelstoke promontory, and -that all the landscape had grown dark, -desolate, and dreary. -</p> - -<p> -What a hopeless future seemed to stretch -before these two creatures, so young and so -loving! -</p> - -<p> -Florian was gone—gone to serve as a -private soldier on the burning coast of Africa. -It seemed all too terrible, too dreadful to -think of. -</p> - -<p> -'Every morning and evening I shall pray -for you, Florian,' wailed the girl in her heart; -'pray that you may be happy, good, and -rich, and—and that we shall yet meet in -heaven if we never meet on earth.' -</p> - -<p> -On the second morning after this separation, -when Dulcie was pillowed in sleep, and -the rising sun was shining brightly on the -waves that rolled in Cawsand Bay and -danced over the Mewstone, a great white -'trooper' came out of Plymouth Sound under -sail and steam, with the blue-peter flying at -its foremasthead, her starboard side crowded -with red coats, all waving their caps and -taking a farewell look at Old England—the -last look it proved to many—and, led by Bob -Edgehill, a joyous, rackety, young private of -the Warwickshire, hundreds of voices joined -chorusing: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Merrily, my lads, so ho!<br /> - They may talk of a life at sea,<br /> - But a life on the land<br /> - With sword in hand<br /> - Is the life, my lads, for me!'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -But there was one young soldier whose -voice failed him in the chorus, and whose -eyes rested on Stoke Point and the mouth of -the Yealm till these and other familiar features -of the coast melted into the widening -Channel. -</p> - -<p> -Dulcie was roused to exertion from the -stupor of grief that had come upon her by -tidings that a situation had been found for -her as companion—one in which she would -have to make herself useful, amiable, and -agreeable in the family of a lady of rank and -wealth, to whom she would be sent by -influential friends of Mr. Pentreath in London. -</p> - -<p> -The poor girl thought tearfully how desolate -was her lot now, cast to seek her bread -among utter strangers; and if she became ill, -delicate, or unable to work, what would become -of her? -</p> - -<p> -Her separation from Florian seemed now -greater than ever; but, as Heine has it: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Tis but the old, old story,<br /> - Yet it ever abideth new;<br /> - And to whomsoever it cometh<br /> - The heart it breaks in two.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -To leave Revelstoke seemed another wrench. -</p> - -<p> -Dulcie had been born and bred there, -and all the villagers in Revelstoke loved -and knew Lawyer Carlyon well, and were -deeply interested in the future of his daughter; -thus, on the day of her departure no one -made any pretence of work or working. -Heads were popping out and in of the windows -of the village street all morning, and a -cluster—a veritable crowd—of kindly folks -accompanied Mr. Pentreath and the weeping -girl to the railway station, for she wept freely -at all this display of regard and sympathy, -especially from the old, whom she might -never see again. -</p> - -<p> -When the train swept her away, and she -lost sight of the last familiar feature of her -native place, a strange and heavy sense of -utter desolation came over poor Dulcie, and -but for the presence of other passengers she -would have stooped her head upon her hot -hands and sobbed aloud, for she thought of -her dead parents—when did she not think of -them now? -</p> - -<p> -'Oh!' exclaims a writer, 'if those who have -loved and gone before us can see afar off -those they have left, surely the mother who -had passed from earth might tremble now -for her child, standing so terribly alone in the -midst of a seething sea of danger and temptations?' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap17"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVII. -<br /><br /> -AT CRAIGENGOWAN. -</h3> - -<p> -With the new understanding—the tacit -engagement that existed between herself and -Vivian Hammersley—Finella writhed with -annoyance when privately and pointedly -spoken to on the subject of her 'cousin' -Shafto's attentions and hopes. -</p> - -<p> -'Grandmamma,' said she to Lady Fettercairn, -'I don't see why I may not marry -whom I please. I am not like a poor girl -who has nothing in the world. Indeed, in -that case I am pretty sure that neither you -nor cousin Shafto would want me.' -</p> - -<p> -'She must settle soon,' said Lady Fettercairn, -when reporting this plain reply to -Lady Drumshoddy. 'I certainly shall not -take her to London again, yet awhile.' -</p> - -<p> -'You are right,' replied that somewhat -grim matron; 'and when once this Captain -Hammersley, who, to my idea, is somewhat -too <i>èpris</i> with her, is gone, you can easily -find some pretext for remaining at Craigengowan; -or shall I have her with me?' -</p> - -<p> -'As you please,' replied Lady Fettercairn, -who knew that the Drumshoddy <i>mènage</i> did -not always suit the taste of Finella; 'but I -think she is better here—propinquity and all -that sort of thing may be productive of good. -I know that poor Shafto's mind is quite made -up, and, as I said before, she must settle -soon. We can't have twenty thousand a year -slipping out of the family.' -</p> - -<p> -Finella thought little of their wishes or -those of Shafto. She thought only of that -passionate hour in the lonely drawing-room, -where she was alone with Vivian, and his lips -were pressed to hers; of the close throb of -heart to heart, and that the great secret of -her young girl's life was his now and hers no -longer, but aware of the opposition and -antagonism he would be sure to encounter just -then, she urged upon him a caution and a -secrecy of the engagement which his proud -spirit somewhat resented. -</p> - -<p> -He thought it scarcely honourable to take -advantage of Lord Fettercairn's hospitality, -and gain the love of Finella without his -permission; but as both knew that would -never be accorded—that to ask for it would -cut short his visit, and as he was so soon -going on distant service, with Finella he -agreed that their engagement should be kept -a secret till his return. -</p> - -<p> -And to blind the eyes of the watchful or -suspicious he actually found himself flirting -with one of the Miss Kippilaws, three young -ladies who thought they spoke the purest -English, though it was with that accent which -Basil Hall calls 'the hideous patois of -Edinburgh;' and, perceiving this, Lady -Fettercairn became somewhat contented, and -Finella was excessively amused. -</p> - -<p> -Not so the astute Shafto. -</p> - -<p> -'It is all a d——d game!' muttered that -young gentleman; 'a red herring drawn -across the scent.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why do you look so unhappy, dearest?' -asked Finella one evening, when she and her -lover found themselves alone for a few -minutes, during which she had been -contemplating his dark face in silence. -</p> - -<p> -'My leave of absence is running out so -fast—by Jove, faster than ever apparently -now!' -</p> - -<p> -'Is that the sole reason?' asked the girl -softly and after a pause, her dark eyes -darkening and seeming to become more -intense. -</p> - -<p> -'No,' he replied, with hesitation. -</p> - -<p> -'Tell me, then—what is the other?' -</p> - -<p> -'You know how I love you——' -</p> - -<p> -'And I—you.' -</p> - -<p> -'But in one sense my love is so liable to -misconstruction—so hopeless of proof.' -</p> - -<p> -'Hopeless, Vivian—after all I have -admitted?' she asked reproachfully. -</p> - -<p> -'I mean because I am almost penniless as -compared to you.' -</p> - -<p> -'What does that matter? Surely I have -enough for two,' said she, laughing. -</p> - -<p> -'And I fear the bitter opposition of your -family.' -</p> - -<p> -'So do I; but don't mind it,' said the -independent little beauty. -</p> - -<p> -'I have heard a rumour that one of the -Melforts who made a pure love-marriage was -cut off root and branch.' -</p> - -<p> -'That was poor Uncle Lennard, before I -was born. Well—they can't cut <i>me</i> off.' -</p> - -<p> -'They will never consent; and when I am -far away, as I soon shall be, if their evil -influence——' -</p> - -<p> -'Should prevail with me? Oh, Vivian!' -exclaimed the girl, her dark eyes sparkling -through their unshed tears. 'Think not of -their influencing me, for a moment.' -</p> - -<p> -'Thank you a thousand times for the -assurance, my love. It was vile of me to -think of such things. I have a sure conviction -that your cousin Shafto dislikes me most -certainly,' said Hammersley, after a pause. -</p> - -<p> -'I don't doubt it,' said she. -</p> - -<p> -'They mean you for him.' -</p> - -<p> -'They—who?' -</p> - -<p> -'Your grandparents.' -</p> - -<p> -'I know they do—but don't tease me by -speaking of a subject so distasteful,' exclaimed -Finella, making a pretty moue expression of -disdain. -</p> - -<p> -He pressed a kiss on her brow, another on -her hair, and his lips quickly found their way -to hers, after they had been pressed on her -snow-white eyelids. -</p> - -<p> -'I love you with my whole heart, Finella,' -he exclaimed passionately. -</p> - -<p> -'And I you,' said the artless girl again, in -that style of iteration of which lovers never -grow weary, with an adoring upward glance, -which it was a pity the gathering gloom -prevented him from seeing. -</p> - -<p> -As they walked slowly towards the house, -she quickly withdrew her hands, which were -clasped clingingly to his arm, as Shafto -approached them suddenly. He saw the abrupt -act, and drew his own conclusions therefrom, -and, somewhat to Finella's annoyance, turned -abruptly away. -</p> - -<p> -'So that is the amiable youth for whom -they design you,' said he in a whisper. -</p> - -<p> -'Did I not say you were not to speak of -him? To tell you the truth, I am at times -somewhat afraid of him.' -</p> - -<p> -'My darling—I must give you an amulet—a -charm against his evil influence,' said -Hammersley, laughing, as he slipped a ring -on her wedding-finger, adding, 'I hope it fits.' -</p> - -<p> -'What is this—oh, Vivian! actually a -wedding-ring—but I cannot wear, though I -may keep it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then wear this until you can, when I -return, darling,' said he, as he slipped a -gemmed ring on the tiny finger, and -stooping, kissed it. -</p> - -<p> -'My heart's dearest!' cooed the girl -happily. 'Well, Vivian, none other than the -hoop you have now given me shall be my -wedding-ring!' -</p> - -<p> -Had Lady Fettercairn overheard all this -she would have had good reason to fear that -Finella's twenty thousand a year was slipping -away from the Craigengowan family, all the -more so that the scene of this tender -interview was a spot below the mansion-house, -said to be traditionally fatal to the Melforts -of Fettercairn, the Howe of Craigengowan—for -there a terrible adventure occurred to the -first Lord, he who sold his Union vote, and of -whom the men of the Mearns were wont to -say he had not only sold his country to her -enemies, but that he had also sold his soul to -the evil one. -</p> - -<p> -It chanced that in the gloaming of the -28th of April, 1708, the first anniversary of -that day on which the Scottish Parliament -dissolved to meet no more, he was walking -in a place which he had bought with his -Union bribe—the Howe of Craigengowan, -then a secluded dell, overshadowed by great -alders and whin bushes—when he saw at the -opposite end the figure of a man approaching -pace for pace with himself, and his outline -was distinctly seen against the red flush of -the western sky. -</p> - -<p> -As they neared each other slowly, a strange -emotion of superstitious awe stole into the -hard heart of Lord Fettercairn. So strong -was this that he paused for a minute, and -rested on his cane. The stranger did -precisely the same. -</p> - -<p> -The peer—the ex-Commissioner on Forfeited -Estates—'pulled himself together,' -and put his left hand jauntily into the silver -hilt of his sword—a motion imitated exactly, -and to all appearance mockingly, by the -other, whose gait, bearing, and costume—a -square-skirted crimson coat, a long-flapped -white vest, black breeches and stockings -rolled over the knee, and a Ramillie wig—were -all the same in cut and colour as his -own! -</p> - -<p> -Lord Fettercairn afterwards used to assert -that he would never be able to describe the -undefinable, the strange and awful sensation -that crept over him when, as they neared -each other, pace by pace, he saw in the -other's visage the features of himself -reproduced, as if he had been looking into a -mirror. -</p> - -<p> -A cold horror ran through every vein. -He knew and felt that his own features were -pallid and convulsed with mortal terror and -dismay, while he could see that those of his -dreadful counterpart were radiant with spite -and triumphant malice. -</p> - -<p> -Himself seemed to look upon himself—the -same in face, figure, dress; every -detail was the same, save that the other -clutched a canvas bag, inscribed '£500' -the price of the Union vote (or, as some -said, the price of his soul)—on seeing which -my Lord Fettercairn shrieked in an agony -of terror, and fell prone on his face—a -fiendish yell and laugh from the other making -all the lonely Howe re-echo as he did so. -</p> - -<p> -How long he lay there he knew not precisely; -but when he opened his eyes the pale -April moon was shining down the Howe, -producing weird and eerie shadows, the alder -and whin bushes looked black and gloomy, -and the window lights were shining redly in -the tall and sombre mass of Craigengowan, -the gables, turrets, and vanes of which stood -up against the starry sky. -</p> - -<p> -He never quite recovered the shock, but -died some years after; and even now on -dark nights, when owls hoot, ravens croak, -toads crawl, and the clock at Craigengowan -strikes twelve, something strange—no one -can exactly say what—is to be seen in the -Howe, even within sound of the railway -engine. -</p> - -<p> -But to resume our own story: -</p> - -<p> -Though a day for parting—for a separation -involving distance, time, and no small -danger to one—was inexorably approaching, -Finella was very happy just then, with a -happiness she had never known before, and -with a completeness that made life—even to -her who had known London for a brilliant -season—seem radiant. She had been joyous -like a beautiful bird, and content, too, before -the renewal and fuller development of her -intimacy with Vivian Hammersley; but she -was infinitely more joyous and content now. -''Twas but the old, old story' of a girl's love, -and in all her sentiments and all her hopes -for the future Vivian shared. -</p> - -<p> -The beautiful dreams of a dual life had -been partly—if not fully—realised through -him, who seemed to her a perfect being, a -perfect hero: though he was only a smart -linesman, a handsome young fellow like a -thousand others, yet he possessed every -quality to render a girl happy. -</p> - -<p> -Shafto felt that Hammersley had quite -'cut the ground from under his feet' with -Finella, as he phrased it; and hating him in -consequence, and being a master in cunning -and finesse, wonderfully so for his years, he -resolved to get 'the interloper's' visit to -Craigengowan cut short at all hazards, and -he was not long in putting his scheme in -operation. -</p> - -<p> -The lovers thus were not quite unconscious -of being watched by eyes that were quickened -by avarice, passion, and jealousy; yet, withal, -they were very, very happy—in Elysium, in -fact. -</p> - -<p> -Finding that Hammersley had suddenly -become averse to gambling, after a long day -among the grouse, Shafto strove hard to lure -him into play one evening in the smoke-room. -</p> - -<p> -Hammersley declined, aware that Shafto -was remarkably sharp at cards, having become -somewhat efficient after years of almost -nightly play in the bar-room of the Torrington -Arms at Revelstoke. -</p> - -<p> -Shafto's manner on this evening became -almost insulting, and he taunted him with -'taking deuced good care of such money as -he had.' -</p> - -<p> -''Pon my soul, young fellow, do you know -that you are rather—well—ah—rude?' said -Hammersley, removing his cigar for a -moment and staring at the speaker. -</p> - -<p> -'Sorry, but it's my way,' replied Shafto. -</p> - -<p> -'Perhaps you had better make that your -way,' said Hammersley, his brown cheek -reddening as he indicated the room-door with -his cigar. Then suddenly remembering that -he must preserve certain amenities, and as -guest—especially one circumstanced as he was -secretly—he pushed his cigar-case towards -Shafto, saying—'Try one of these—they are -Rio Hondos, and are of the best kind.' -</p> - -<p> -'Thanks, I prefer my own,' said Shafto, sulkily. -</p> - -<p> -At last, piqued by the manner of the latter, -and having been lured into drinking a little -more brandy and soda than was good for him -after dinner, the unsuspecting Englishman -sat down to play, and though he did so -carelessly, his success was wonderful, for, while -not caring to win, he won greatly. -</p> - -<p> -Higher and higher rose the stakes, till a -very considerable sum had passed into his -hands, and, handsome though Shafto's -quarterly allowance from his 'grandfather,' paid -duly by Mr. Kippilaw, he could not help the -lengthening of his visage, and the growing -pallor of it, while his shifty eyes rolled about -in his anxiety and anger; and Lord Fettercairn -and young Kippilaw, who were present, -looked on—the former with some annoyance, -and the latter with amused interest. -</p> - -<p> -Quite suddenly, Kippilaw exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -'Hey—what the deuce is this? Captain -Hammersley, you have dropped a card.' -</p> - -<p> -And he picked one up from that officer's -side, and laid it on the table. -</p> - -<p> -'The ace of spades! By heaven, you have -<i>already</i> played that card!' exclaimed Shafto, -with fierce triumph. -</p> - -<p> -'It is not mine!' said Hammersley, hotly. -</p> - -<p> -'Whose, then?' -</p> - -<p> -'How the devil should I know?' asked -Hammersley, eyeing him firmly. -</p> - -<p> -'Your luck has been marvellous, but not -so much so when we know that you play with -double aces,' said Shafto, throwing down his -cards and starting from the table, as the other -did, now pallid with just rage. -</p> - -<p> -'Would you dare to insinuate?' began the -officer, in a hoarse tone. -</p> - -<p> -'I insinuate nothing; but the disgraceful -fact speaks for itself; and I think you have -been quite long enough among us in -Craigengowan,' he added, coarsely. -</p> - -<p> -Vivian Hammersley was pale as death, -and speechless with rage. He thought first -of Finella and then of his own injured -honour; and we know not what turn this -episode might have taken had not Lord -Fettercairn, who, we have said, had been -quietly looking on from a corner, said gravely, -sharply, and even with pain, as he started -forward: -</p> - -<p> -'Shafto! I saw you drop <i>that card</i>, where -Mr. Kippilaw picked it up—drop it, whether -purposely or not I do not say—but drop it -you did.' -</p> - -<p> -'Impossible, sir!' -</p> - -<p> -'It is <i>not</i> impossible,' said the peer, irately; -'and I am not blind or liable to make -mistakes; and you too manifestly did so; -whence this foul accusation of a guest in -my own house—a gentleman to whom -you owe a humble and most complete -apology.' -</p> - -<p> -Shafto was speechless with rage and baffled -spite at the new and sudden turn his scheme -had taken, and at being circumvented in his -own villainy. -</p> - -<p> -'My Lord Fettercairn, from my soul I -thank you!' said Hammersley, drawing himself -up proudly, looking greatly relieved in -mind, and, turning next to Shafto, evidently -waited for the suggested apology. -</p> - -<p> -But in that he was disappointed, as the -'heir' of Fettercairn turned abruptly on his -heel and left the room, leaving his lordship -to make the <i>amende</i>, which he did in very -graceful terms. -</p> - -<p> -As it was impossible now for both to remain -longer under the same roof after a fracas of -this kind, Hammersley proposed at once to -take his departure for the south by a morning -train; but Lord Fettercairn, who, with all his -selfish shortcomings, had been shocked by the -episode, and by several other ugly matters -connected with his newly found 'grandson,' -would by no means permit of that -movement; and in this spirit of hospitality even -Lady Fettercairn joined, pressing him to -remain and finish his visit, as first intended, -while Shafto, in a gust of baffled rage and -resentment, greatly to the relief of Finella -and of the domestics, betook himself to -Edinburgh, thus for a time leaving his rival more -than ever in full possession of the field. -</p> - -<p> -'Whether she is influenced by Captain -Hammersley I cannot say,' were the parting -words of Lady Fettercairn to this young -hopeful; 'but you seem by this last untoward -affair to have lost even her friendship, and it -will be a dreadful pity, Shafto, if all her -money should be lost to you too.' -</p> - -<p> -And Shafto fully agreed with his 'dear -grandmother' that it would be a pity -indeed. -</p> - -<p> -As a gentleman and man with a keen sense -of honour, Hammersley disliked exceedingly -the secrecy of the engagement he had made -with Finella, and felt himself actually colour -more than once when Lord Fettercairn -addressed him; but his compunctions about it -grew less when he thought of the awful -escape he had made from a perilous accusation, -that might have 'smashed' him in the -Service, and of the trickery of which Shafto -was capable—a trickery of which he had not -yet seen the end. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap18"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVIII. -<br /><br /> -AT THE BUFFALO RIVER. -</h3> - -<p> -The evening of the 10th January was closing -in, and the blood-red African sun, through a -blended haze of gold and pale green, red and -fiery, seemed to linger like a monstrous -crimson globe at the horizon, tinging with -the same hues the Buffalo River as its broad -waters flowed past the Itelizi Hill towards -Rorke's Drift. -</p> - -<p> -There a picquet of the Centre or Second -column of infantry (of the army then -advancing into Zululand), under Colonel Richard -Glyn of the 24th Regiment, was posted for -the night. The main body of the picquet, -under Lieutenant Vincent Sheldrake, a smart -young officer, was bivouacked among some -mealies at a little distance from the bank of -the river, along the margin of which his -advanced sentinels were posted at proper -distances apart, and there each man stood -motionless as a statue, in his red tunic and -white tropical helmet, with his rifle at the -'order,' and his eyes steadily fixed on that -quarter in which the Zulu army was supposed -to be hovering. -</p> - -<p> -To reach the Buffalo River the various -columns of Lord Chelmsford's army could -not march by regular roads, as no such thing -exists in Zululand, and the sole guides of our -officers in selecting the line of advance -through these savage regions were the -grass-covered ruts left by the waggon-wheels of -some occasional trader or sportsman in past -times. -</p> - -<p> -As the column had been halted for the -night, at a considerable distance in rear of -the outlying picquet, the men of the latter -had their provisions with them ready cooked, -and were now having their supper in a grassy -donga or hollow. The earthen floor was -their table, and Lieutenant Sheldrake, being -more luxurious than the rest, had spread -thereon as a cloth an old sheet of the <i>Times</i>; -but the appetites of all were good, and their -temperament cheery and hearty. Their rifles -were piled, and they brewed their coffee over -a blazing fire, the flame of which glowed on -their sun-burned and beardless young faces, -and a few Kaffirs squatted round their own -fire, jabbered, gesticulated, and swallowed -great mouthfuls of their favourite liquor -'scoff.' -</p> - -<p> -Sheldrake was too ill or weary to attend -closely to his own duties, and the moment -the evening meal was over, he desired the -sergeant of the picquet to 'go round the -advanced sentries.' -</p> - -<p> -The sergeant, a young and slender man, -and who was no other than Florian, touched -the barrel of his rifle and departed on his -mission—to visit the sentinels in rotation by -the river bank, and see that they were in -communication with those of the picquets on -the right and left. -</p> - -<p> -The scenery around was savage and -desolate; long feathery grass covered the -veldt for miles upon miles. The chief features -in it were some blue gum trees, and on a -koppie, or little eminence, the deserted ruins -of a Boer farm under the shadow of a clump -of eucalyptus trees; and in the foreground -were some bustards and blue Kaffir cranes -by the river bank. -</p> - -<p> -Short service and disease had given Florian -rapid promotion; for our soldiers, if brave, -had no longer the power of manly endurance -of their predecessors under the old system. -According to General Crealock, the extreme -youth of our soldiers in South Africa rendered -their powers for toil very small; while the -Naval Brigade, composed of older men, had -scarcely ever a man in hospital. The Zulu -campaign was a very trying one; there were -the nightly entrenchments, the picquet duty -amid high grass, and the absence of all -confidence that discipline and that long mutual -knowledge of each other give in the ranks. -He added most emphatically that our younger -soldiers were unfit for European campaigning; -that half the First Division were 'sick;' -there were always some 200 weak lads in -hospital, 'crawling about like sick flies,' and, -like him, every officer was dead against the -short-service system. -</p> - -<p> -The face of our young sergeant was handsome -as ever; but it was strangely altered -since late events had come to pass. There -was a haggard and worn look in the features, -particularly in the eyes. The latter looked -feverish and dim—their brightness less at -times, while a shadow seemed below them. -</p> - -<p> -Florian having, as he now deemed, no -right to the name of Melfort, or even that of -MacIan, had enlisted under the latter name, -as that by which he had been known from -infancy, lest he might make a false -attestation. The name of Gyle he shrank from, -even if it was his—which at times he doubted! -His regiment was the brave old 24th, or -Second Warwickshire, which had been raised -in the eventful year 1689 by Sir Edward -Dering, Bart, of Surrenden-Dering, head of -one of the few undoubted Saxon families in -England, and it was afterwards commanded -in 1695 by Louis, Marquis de Puizar. -</p> - -<p> -Second to none in the annals of war during -the reigns of Anne and the early Georges, -the 24th in later times served with valour at -the first capture of the Cape of Good Hope, -in the old Egyptian campaign, in the wars of -Spain and India, and now they were once -again to cover themselves with a somewhat -clouded and desperate glory in conflict with -the gallant Zulus. -</p> - -<p> -Florian in his new career found himself -occasionally among a somewhat mixed and -rough lot—the raw, weedy soldiers of the -new disastrous system—but there were many -who were of a better type; and the thought -of Dulcie Carlyon—the only friend he had in -the world, the only human creature who loved -him—kept him free from the temptations and -evil habits of the former; and he strove to -live a steady, pure, and brave life, that he -might yet be worthy of her, and give her no -cause to blush for him. -</p> - -<p> -He got through his drilling as quickly as -he could, and soon discovered that the sooner -a soldier takes his place in the ranks the -better for himself. He found that though -many of his comrades were noisy, talkative, -and quarrelsome, that the English soldier -quicker than any other discovers and appreciates -a gentleman. His officers soon learned -to appreciate him too, and hence the rapidity -with which he won his three chevrons, and -Mr. Sheldrake felt that, young though he -was, he could trust Florian to go round the -sentinels. -</p> - -<p> -Each was at his post, and the attention of -each increased as the gloom after sunset -deepened, for none knew who or what might -be approaching stealthily and unseen among -the long wavy grass and mossy dongas that -yawned amid the country in front. -</p> - -<p> -'Hush, Bob!' said he to his comrade, Edgehill, -whom he heard singing merrily to himself, -'you should be mute as a fish on outpost -duty, and keep your ears open as well as your -eyes. What have you got in your head, -Bob, that makes you so silly? But, as the -author of the "Red Rag" says, we soldiers -have not much in our heads at any time, or -we wouldn't go trying to stop cannon balls -or bullets with them.' -</p> - -<p> -'Right you are, Sergeant,' replied Bob, -'but I can't think what made you—a -gentleman—enlist.' -</p> - -<p> -'Because I was bound to be a soldier, I -suppose. And you?' -</p> - -<p> -'Through one I wish I never had seen?' -</p> - -<p> -'Who was that?' -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'The handsome young girl,<br /> - With her fringe in curl,<br /> - That worked a sewing-machine,'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -—sung the irrepressible Bob; and Florian -returned to report 'all right' to Mr. Sheldrake. -</p> - -<p> -Though the actual cause of the Zulu war -lies a little apart from our story, it may be -necessary to mention that we invaded the -country of Cetewayo after giving him a -certain time, up to the 11th of January, to -accept our ultimatum; to adopt an alternative -for war, by delivering up certain of his subjects -who had violated British territory, attacked a -police-station, and committed many outrages,—among -others, carrying off two women, one -of whom they put to a barbarous death near -the Buffalo River. -</p> - -<p> -But instead of making any apology, or -giving an indemnity, Cetewayo prepared to -defend himself at the head of an enormous -army of hardy Zulu warriors, all trained in a -fashion of their own, divided into strong -regiments, furnished with powerful shields -of ox-hide, and armed with rifles, war clubs, -and assegais—a name with which we are now -so familiar. The shaft of this weapon averages -five feet in length, with the diameter of -an ordinary walking-stick, cut from the assegai -tree, which is not unlike mahogany in its fibre, -and furnished with a spear-head. Some are -barbed, some double-barbed, and the tang of -the blade is fitted—when red-hot—into the -wood, not the latter into the blade, which is -then secured by a thong of wet hide, and -is so sharp that the Zulu can shave his -head with it; and it is a weapon which -they can launch with deadly and unerring -skill. -</p> - -<p> -The Zulu king, says Captain Lucas, was -unable to sign his own name, 'and was as -ignorant and as savage as our Norman kings,' -and he thought no more of putting women, -'especially young girls, to death, than Bluff -King Hal' himself; yet a little time after all -this was to see him presented at Osborne, -and to become the petted and fêted exile of -Melbury Road, Kensington. -</p> - -<p> -This night by the Buffalo River was -Florian's first experience of outpost duty, -and he felt—though not the responsible -party—anxious, wakeful, and weary after a -long and toilsome day's march. -</p> - -<p> -He knew enough of military matters to be -well aware that the importance of outposts, -especially when dealing with a wily and savage -enemy, could scarcely be exaggerated, for no -force, when encamped in the field, can be -deemed for a moment safe without them. -Thus it was a maxim of Frederick the Great -that it was pardonable to be defeated, but -never to be surprised. -</p> - -<p> -'I don't understand all this change that -has come over my life,' thought he, as he -stretched himself on the bare earth near the -picquet fire; 'but I wonder if my father and -mother can see and think of me where they -are. Yet I sometimes feel,' he added, with -a kind of boyish gush in his heart, 'as if they -were near me and watching over me, so they -must see and think too.' -</p> - -<p> -Where was Dulcie, then, and what was she -doing? How supporting herself, as she said -she would have to do? Had she found -friends, or, months ago, been trodden, with -all her tender beauty, down in the mire of -misfortune and adversity? -</p> - -<p> -These were maddening thoughts for one -so far away and so utterly powerless to help -her as Florian felt himself, and rendered him -at times more reckless of his own existence -because it was useless to her. -</p> - -<p> -The air around was heavy with the dewy -fragrance of strange and tropical plants, and -vast, spiky, and fan-shaped leaves cast their -shadows over him as he strove to snatch the -proverbial 'forty winks' before again going -'the rounds,' or posting the hourly reliefs, for -they are always hourly when before an enemy. -</p> - -<p> -And when our weary young soldier did -sleep, he dreamt, not of the quick-coming -strife, nor even of blue-eyed Dulcie, with -her wealth of red golden hair, but, as the -tender smile on his lips might have showed, -of the time when his mother watched him in -his little cot, with idolizing gaze, and when he, -the now bronzed and moustached soldier, was -a little child, with rings of soft dusky hair -curling over his white forehead; when his -cheeks had a rosy flush, and his tiny mouth -a smile, and she fondly kissed the little hands -that lay outside the snow-white coverlet her -own deft fingers had made—the two wee -hands that held his mother's heart between -them—the heart that had long since mouldered -by Revelstoke Church. -</p> - -<p> -And so he slept and dreamed till roused -by the inevitable cry of 'Sentry, go!' and, -that duty over, as he composed himself to -sleep again, with his knapsack under his -head for a pillow, he thought as a soldier— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'To-day is ours. To-morrow never yet<br /> - On any human being rose or set!'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap19"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIX. -<br /><br /> -ELANDSBERGEN. -</h3> - -<p> -Next morning when the picquet was relieved -young Sheldrake, who paid Hammersley's -company in absence of the latter, who was soon -expected with a strong draft from England, -said to Florian— -</p> - -<p> -'Look here, MacIan, I've made a stupid -mistake. The company's money I have left -among my heavier baggage in the fort beyond -Elandsbergen, and I have got the Colonel's -permission to send you back for it. This -is just like me—I've a head, and so has a -pin! The Quartermaster will lend you his -horse, and you can have my spare revolver -and ammunition. Have a cigar before you -go,' he added, proffering his case, 'and look -sharp after yourself and the money. There -is a deuced unchancy lot in the quarter you -are going back to. We don't advance from -this till to-morrow, so you have plenty of -time to be with us ere we cross the river, if -you start at once.' -</p> - -<p> -'Very good, sir,' replied Florian, as he -saluted and went away to obtain the horse, -the revolver, and to prepare for a duty which -he intensely disliked, and almost doubted his -power to carry out, as it took him rearward -through a country of which he was ignorant, -which was almost without roads, and where -he would be single-handed, if not among -savages, among those who were quite as -bad, for in some of these districts, as in the -Orange Free State and Boerland, there -swarmed broken ruffians of every kind, -many of them deserters; and, says an -officer, 'so great, in fact, was the number -of these undesirable specimens of our -countrymen assembled in Harrysmith alone -that night was truly made hideous with -their howlings, respectable persons were -afraid to leave their houses after nightfall, -and the report of revolvers ceased to elicit -surprise or curiosity. I have been in some -of the most notorious camps and towns in -the territories and mining districts of the -United States, but can safely assert that I -never felt more thankful than when I found -my horse sufficiently rested here to continue -my journey.' There were lions, too, in the -wild plains, for some of our cavalry horses -were devoured by them; the tiger-cat and -the aarde-wolf also. -</p> - -<p> -With a knowledge of all this Florian -loaded his revolver, looked carefully to the -bridle and stirrup leathers of his horse, -received a note from Mr. Sheldrake to the -officer commanding the little fort near the -foot of the Drakensberg, and left the camp -of No. 2 column on his solitary journey, -steering his way by the natural features of -the country so far as he could recall them -after the advance of the 10th January, and -watching carefully for the wheel tracks or -other indications of a roadway leading in a -westerly direction; and many of his comrades, -including Bob Edgehill, watched him with -interest and kindly anxiety till his white -helmet disappeared as he descended into a -long grassy donga, about a mile from Rorke's -Drift. -</p> - -<p> -The evening passed and the following day -dawned—the important 12th—when Zululand -was to be invaded at three points by the three -columns of Lord Chelmsford; the advance -party detailed from Colonel Glyn's brigade -to reconnoitre the ground in front got under -arms and began to move off, and Sheldrake -and others began to feel somewhat uneasy, -for there was still no appearance of the -absent one. -</p> - -<p class="t3"> -* * * * -</p> - -<p> -The country through which Florian rode -was lonely, and farmhouses were few and -many miles apart. Its natural features were -undulating downs covered with tall waving -grass, furrowed by deep, reedy water-courses; -here and there were abrupt rocky eminences, -and dense brushwood grew in the rugged -kloofs and ravines. -</p> - -<p> -The air was delightful, and in spite of his -thoughts the blood coursed freely through -his veins; his spirits rose, and, exhilarated -by the pace at which his horse went, he could -not help giving a loud 'Whoop!' now and -then when a gnu, with its curved horns and -white mane, or a hartebeest appeared on the -upland slopes, or a baboon grinned at him -from amid the bushes of a kloof. -</p> - -<p> -Before him stretched miles of open and -grassy veldt, and the flat-topped hills of the -Drakensberg range closed the horizon. The -vast stretch of plain, across which ever and -anon swept herds of beautiful little antelopes, -was covered with luxuriant grass, which -seemed smooth as a billiard-table, and over it -went the track, which he was always afraid of -losing. But, if pleasant to look upon, the -veldt was treacherous ground, for hidden by -the grass were everywhere deep holes -burrowed by the ant-bears, and into these his -horse's forelegs sank ever and anon, to the -peril of the animal and his rider too. Thus -Florian was compelled to proceed at a canter -with his reins loose, while he sat tight and -prepared for swerving when his nag, which was a -native horse, prepared to dodge an apparent -hole, which they can do with wonderful sagacity. -</p> - -<p> -So Florian was not sorry when he left the -veldt behind him, and after a ride of about -thirty miles saw the earthworks of the small -fort at the foot of Drakensberg appear in -front with a little Union Jack fluttering on a -flagstaff. -</p> - -<p> -This was about mid-day. -</p> - -<p> -Anxious to return as soon as he could rest -his horse, he lost no time in delivering -Sheldrake's note to the officer in command, -and with the key of a trunk indicated -therein among his best uniform, and amid -girls' photos, bundles of letters, old button -bouquets, rare pipes, and an omnium-gatherum -of various things, the bag was found, -with the company's money, and delivered to -Florian, who, after a two hours' halt, set out -on his return journey; but he had not -proceeded many miles when he found that his -horse was utterly failing him, and, regretting -that he had not remained at the post for the -night, he resolved to spend it in the little -town of Elandsbergen, towards which he bent -his way, leading the now halting nag by the -bridle. -</p> - -<p> -Elandsbergen consisted of a few widely -detached cottages studding both sides of a -broad pathway, amid a vast expanse of veldt -or prairie, with fragmentary attempts at -cultivation here and there; and how the people -lived seemed somewhat of a mystery. Rows -of stunted oaks lined the street, if such it -could be called, and through it flowed a rill of -pure water, at which the poor nag drank -thirstily. -</p> - -<p> -Elandsbergen boasted of one hostelry, -dignified by the title of the Royal Hotel, -where 'civil entertainment for man and beast' -was promised by the landlord, 'Josh Jarrett.' It -was a somewhat substantial edifice of two -storeys, built of baked brick, square in form, -with a flat roof composed of strong lattice-work, -covered with half-bricks and with clayey -mortar to render it impervious to the torrents -of the South African rainy season. -</p> - -<p> -In some of the windows were glass panes; -in others sheepskin with the wool off, which, -in consequence of extreme tension, attains a -certain transparency. Giving his horse to a -Kaffir ostler, whose sole raiment was a -waistcoat made of a sleeveless regimental tunic, -Florian somewhat wearily entered the 'hotel,' -the proprietor of which started and changed -colour at the sight of his red coat, as well he -might, for, though disguised by a bushy beard, -sedulously cultivated, and a shock head of -hair under his broad-leaved hat, he was one -of the many deserters from our troops, -already referred to, and, though apparently -anxious to appear civil, was secretly a ruffian -of the worst kind. -</p> - -<p> -The room into which he ushered Florian -was bare-walled, the furniture was of the -plainest and rudest kind, and the floor was -formed of cow-dung over wet clay, all -kneaded, trodden, and hardened till it could -be polished, a process learned from the Zulus -in the construction of their kraals. -</p> - -<p> -A fly-blown map of Cape Colony, a cheap -portrait of Sir Bartle Frere, and the skull of -an eland with its spiral horns were the only -decorations of the apartment, and the literature -of 'the day' was represented by three -tattered copies of the <i>Cape Argus</i>, <i>Natal -Mercury</i>, and the <i>Boer Volksteem</i>. -</p> - -<p> -Josh Jarrett was dressed like a Boer, and in -person was quite as dirty as a Boer; his loose -cracker-trousers were girt by a broad belt -with a square buckle, whereat hung a leopard-skin -pouch and an ugly hunting-knife with a -cross hilt. In the band of his broad hat were -stuck a large meerschaum pipe and the tattered -remnant of an ostrich feather. -</p> - -<p> -The Kaffir ostler now came hurriedly in, -and announced something in his own language -to the landlord, who, turning abruptly to -Florian, said— -</p> - -<p> -'You are in something of a fix, Sergeant!' -</p> - -<p> -'How—what do you mean?' demanded Florian. -</p> - -<p> -'That your horse is dying.' -</p> - -<p> -'Dying!' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, of the regular horse-sickness.' -</p> - -<p> -Florian in no small anxiety and excitement -hurried out to the stable, in which two other -nags were stalled, and there he saw the poor -animal he had ridden lying among the straw -in strong convulsions, labouring under that -curse of South Africa, the horse-sickness, a -most mysterious disorder, which had suddenly -attacked it. -</p> - -<p> -The animal had looked sullen and dull all -morning, and in the stable had been assailed -by the distemper and its usual symptoms, -heaving flanks, disturbed breathing, glassy -eyes, and a projecting tongue tightly clenched -between the teeth. Then came the convulsions, -and he was dead in half an hour, -and Florian found that he would probably -have to travel afoot for more than twenty -miles before he could rejoin the column on -the morrow. -</p> - -<p> -'Where have you come from, Sergeant?' -asked Josh Jarrett, when they returned to the -public room. -</p> - -<p> -'The fort at the Drakensberg, last.' -</p> - -<p> -'Taking French leave, eh?' said Jarrett, -with a portentous wink and a brightening eye. -</p> - -<p> -'Not at all!' replied Florian, indignantly. -</p> - -<p> -'Fellows do so every day now in these -short-service times.' -</p> - -<p> -'I was going to the front, when my horse -fell lame.' -</p> - -<p> -'Belong to the Mounted Infantry?' -</p> - -<p> -'The dismounted now, I think,' replied -Florian. 'I should like to rest here for the -night, and push on as best I can to-morrow; -so what can I have for supper?' -</p> - -<p> -Josh Jarrett paused a moment, as if he -thought a sergeant's purse would not go far -in the way of luxuries, and then replied: -</p> - -<p> -'Rasher of bacon and eggs, or dried beef -and a good glass of squareface or Cape smoke, -which you please.' -</p> - -<p> -'The first will do, and a glass of the -squareface, which means Hollands, I suppose. -Cape smoke is a disagreeable spirit,' replied -Florian wearily, as he took off his helmet -and seated himself in a large cane-bottomed -chair. -</p> - -<p> -'Won't you lay aside your revolver?' asked -Jarrett. -</p> - -<p> -'Thanks—well, no—I am used to it.' -</p> - -<p> -'As you please,' said the other surlily, and -summoning in a loud voice a female named -'Nan,' left the room. -</p> - -<p> -The latter laid the table, brought in the -frugal supper, with a case bottle of squareface, -and, instead of leaving the room, seated -herself near a window and entered into conversation, -with what object Florian scarcely knew, -but he disliked the circumstance, till he began -to remember that she probably considered -herself his equal. -</p> - -<p> -When his hasty repast was over, taking a -hint from a remark that he was weary, she -withdrew, and then Florian began to consider -the situation. -</p> - -<p> -He was fully twenty miles from the regiment; -a rough country, not to be traversed -even by daylight, infested with wild animals, -and many obnoxious things, such as -puff-adders, perhaps Zulus, lay between; and -unless Jarrett would accommodate him with -a horse, which was very unlikely (he seemed -such a sullen and forbidding fellow), he would -have to travel the journey on foot, and begin -betimes on the morrow as soon as dawn would -enable him to see the track eastward. -</p> - -<p> -He examined Sheldrake's handsome revolver -and its ammunition, reloading the six -chambers carefully. Then he thought of the -company's money; and tempted, he knew -not by what rash impulse unless it was mere -boyish curiosity, he untied the red tape by -which the paymaster had secured the mouth -of the bag to have a peep at the gold. -</p> - -<p> -He had never seen a hundred sovereigns -before, and never before had so much money -in his possession. Some of the glittering -coins fell out on the clay floor; and as he -gathered them up a sound made him look -round, and from the window he saw a human -face suddenly vanish outside, thus showing -that some one had, hitherto unnoticed, been -furtively watching him, and he strongly -suspected it to be the woman Nan, prompted, -perhaps, by idle curiosity, and in haste he -concealed the gold. -</p> - -<p> -He was the more convinced of the lurker -being she when, soon after, she entered, retook -her seat by the window, through which the -evening sun was streaming now, and began -to address him in a light and flippant manner, -as if to get up a flirtation with him for ulterior -purposes; but his suspicions were awakened -now, and Florian was on his guard. -</p> - -<p> -He perceived that she had made some -alterations and improvements in her tawdry -dress, and had hung in her ears a pair of -large old-fashioned Dutch ear-rings shaped -like small rams' horns of real gold. -</p> - -<p> -She seemed to be about thirty years of -age, and was not without personal attractions, -though all bloom was past, and the -expression of her face was marred by its being -alternately leering, mocking, and—even in -spite of herself—cruel. Yet her eyes were -dark and sparkling. She wore a fringe of -thick brown hair close down to them, -concealing nearly all her forehead. Her mouth, -if large, was handsome, but lascivious-looking, -and Florian, whose barrack-room -experience had somewhat 'opened his eyes,' -thought—though he was not ungallant -enough to say so—that her absence would -be preferable to her company, which she -seemed resolved to thrust upon him. But -guests were doubtless scarce in these parts, -and the 'Royal Hotel,' Elandsbergen, had -probably not many visitors. -</p> - -<p> -She asked him innumerable questions—his -age, country, regiment, and so forth—and all -in a wheedling coaxing way, toyed with his -hair, and once attempted to seat herself on -his knee; but he rose and repelled her, and -then it was that the unmistakably cruel -expression came flashing into her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'You are too young and too handsome -to be killed and disembowelled by the big -Zulus,' said she after a pause; 'they could -eat a boy like you. Why don't you desert -and go to the Diamond Fields?' -</p> - -<p> -'Thank you; I would die rather than do that!' -</p> - -<p> -'And so you serve the Queen, my dear?' -she said sneeringly. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'For what reason do you fight the poor Zulus?' -</p> - -<p> -'Honour,' replied Florian curtly. -</p> - -<p> -'I have read—I have some book-knowledge, -you see—that when a Swiss officer -was reproached by a French one that he -fought for pay, and not like himself for -honour, "So be it," replied the Swiss, "we -each of us fight for that which he is most in -need of."' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't see the allusion in this instance: -a soldier, I do my duty and obey orders.' -</p> - -<p> -'Have a drop more of the squareface—you -can't be so rude as to refuse a lady,' -she continued, filling up a long glass, which -she put to her lips, and then to those of -Florian, who pretended to sip and then put -the glass down. -</p> - -<p> -He was at a loss to understand her and -her advances. Vanity quite apart, he knew -that he was a good-looking young fellow, -and that his uniform 'set him off;' but he -remembered the face at the window, and was -on his guard against her in every way. -Would she have acted thus with an officer? he -thought; and in what relation did she -stand to the truculent-looking landlord—wife, -daughter, or sister? Probably none -of them at all. -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly her mood changed, or appeared -to do so, and seating herself at a rickety old -piano, which Florian had not noticed before, -she, while eyeing him waggishly, proceeded -to sing a once-popular flash song, long since -forgotten in England, and probably taken -out by some ancient settler, generations -ago, to the Cape Colony: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'If I was a wife, and my dearest life<br /> - Took it into his noddle to die,<br /> - Ere I took the whim to be buried with him,<br /> - I think I'd know very well <i>why</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'If poignant my grief, I'd search for relief—<br /> - Not sink with the weight of my care:<br /> - A salve might be found, no doubt, above ground,<br /> - And I think I know very well <i>where</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Another kind mate should give me what fate<br /> - Would not from the former allow;<br /> - With him I'd amuse the hours you abuse,<br /> - And I think I'd know very well <i>how</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - ''Tis true I'm a maid, and so't may be said<br /> - No judge of the conjugal lot;<br /> - Yet marriage, I ween, has a cure for the spleen,<br /> - And I think I know very well <i>what</i>.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -This she sang with a skill and power that -savoured of the music hall, and then tried -her blandishments again to induce Florian to -drink of the fiery squareface; but he resisted -all her inducement to take 'just one little -glass more.' -</p> - -<p> -Why was she so anxious that he should -imbibe that treacherous spirit, which he -would have to pay for? And why did the -landlord, who certainly seemed full of -curiosity about him, leave him so entirely -in her society? -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly the voice of the latter was heard -shouting, 'Nan, Nan!' -</p> - -<p> -'That is Josh,' said she impatiently; -'bother him, what does he want now? Josh -is getting old, and nothing improves by age.' -</p> - -<p> -'Except brandy,' said Florian smiling, as -he now hoped to be rid of her. -</p> - -<p> -'Right; and squareface, perhaps. Have -one glass more, dear, before I leave you.' -</p> - -<p> -But he turned impatiently away, and she -withdrew, closing a scene which caused -Florian much suspicion and perplexity. He -remembered to have read, that 'man destroys -with the horns of a bull, or with paws like a -bear; woman by nibbling like a mouse, or -by embracing like a serpent.' And he was -in toils here unseen as yet! -</p> - -<p> -The light faded out beyond the dark -ridges of the Drakensberg, and Florian -requested to be shown to his sleeping-apartment, -which was on the upper storey. -</p> - -<p> -'You may hear a roaring lot here -by-and-by,' said his host; 'but you are a soldier, -and I dare say will sleep sound enough. You -will be tired, too, after your ride.' -</p> - -<p> -The man had now a sneaking and wicked -look in his eyes, which avoided meeting -those of Florian, and which the latter did -not like, but there was no help for it then. -</p> - -<p> -'You will call me early if I sleep too -long,' said Florian, as Jarrett gave him a -candle. -</p> - -<p> -The hand of the latter shook as he did -so—he had evidently been drinking heavily, -and his yellow-balled eyes were bloodshot, -and his voice thick, as he said: -</p> - -<p> -'Good-night, Sergeant; you'll sleep sound -enough,' and closed the door. -</p> - -<p> -With a sigh almost of relief Florian found -himself alone. He set down the sputtering -candle, and turned to fasten the door. It -was without a lock, and secured only by a -latch, by which it could be opened from the -outside as well as within. -</p> - -<p> -On making this startling discovery, Florian's -heart glowed with indignation and growing -alarm! He felt himself trapped! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap20"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XX. -<br /><br /> -BAFFLED! -</h3> - -<p> -The room was small, low-ceiled, and its only -furniture was a table, chair, and truckle-bed—all -obviously of Dutch construction—and, -unless he could find some means to secure -his door, he resolved to remain awake till -dawn. The only window in the room -overlooked the roof of the stable where the -dead horse lay. The sash was loose, and -shook in the night wind, and he could see -the bright and, to him, new constellations -glittering in the southern sky. -</p> - -<p> -Florian contrived to secure the door by -placing the chair on the floor as a wedge or -barrier between it and the bedstead, on the -mattress of which—though not very savoury -in appearance—he cast himself, for he was -weary, worn, and felt that there was an -absolute necessity for husbanding his strength, -as he knew not what might be before him, so -he extinguished the candle. -</p> - -<p> -Something in the general aspect and bearing -of the man Josh Jarrett, and in those of the -woman, with her efforts to intoxicate him, and -something, too, in his general surroundings -and isolated situation—for the few scattered -houses of Elandsbergen were all far -apart—together with the memory of the prying face -he had seen at the window, at the very -moment he was picking up the gold, all -served to put Florian on his guard; thus he -lay down without undressing, and, longing -only for daylight, grasped ever and anon the -butt of his pistol. -</p> - -<p> -For some time past he had been unused -to the luxury of even a truckle-bed or other -arrangements for repose than his grey -greatcoat and ammunition blanket, with a -knapsack for a pillow; hence, despite his -keen anxiety, he must have dropped asleep, -for how long he knew not; but he suddenly -started up as the sound of voices below came -to his ear, and the full sense of his peculiar -whereabouts rushed on him. -</p> - -<p> -Voices! They were coarse and deep, but -not loud—voices of persons talking in low -and concentrated tones in the room beneath, -separated from him only by the ill-fitting boarding -of the floor, between the joints of which -lines of light were visible, and one bright -upward flake, through a hole from which a -knot had dropped out. -</p> - -<p> -'Curse him, he's but a boy; I could -smash the life out of him by one blow of -my fist!' he heard his host, Josh Jarrett, -say. -</p> - -<p> -Others responded to this, but in low, -stealthy, and husky tones. Certain that -some mischief with regard to himself was on -the <i>tapis</i>. Florian crept softly to the orifice -in the floor, and looked down. Round a -dirty and sloppy table, covered with -drinking-vessels, pipes and tobacco-pouches, bottles -of squareface and Cape smoke, were Josh -Jarrett and three other ruffians, digger-like -fellows, with Nan among them, all drinking; -and a vile-looking quintette they were, -especially the woman, with her hair all -dishevelled now, and her face inflamed by -that maddening compound known as Cape -smoke. -</p> - -<p> -'When I was ass enough to be in the -Queen's service,' said Jarrett with a horrible -imprecation, 'these 'ere blooming officers and -non-comms. led me a devil of a life; they -said it was my own fault that I was always -drunk and in the mill. Be that as it may, -I've one of the cursed lot upstairs, and I'll -sarve him out for what they made me -undergo, cuss 'em. One will answer my -purpose as well as another. Nan, you did -your best to screw him, but he was -wary—infernally wary. Blest if I don't think the -fellow is a Scotsman after all, for all his -English lingo.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, he did shirk his liquor,' hiccupped -the amiable Nan; 'you should have drugged -it, Josh.' -</p> - -<p> -'But then we didn't know that he had all -this chink about him.' -</p> - -<p> -'That must be ours,' growled a fellow who -had not yet spoken, but was prodding the -table with a knife he had drawn from his -belt; 'we'll give him a through ticket to the -other world—one with the down train.' -</p> - -<p> -'And no return,' added Nan, laughing. -</p> - -<p> -Florian felt beads of perspiration on his -brow; he was one against five—entrapped, -baited, done to death—and if he did not -appear at headquarters with the fatal money, -what would be thought of him but that he -had deserted with it, and his name would -be branded as that of a coward and robber. -</p> - -<p> -Dulcie! The thought of Dulcie choked -him, but it nerved him too. -</p> - -<p> -Another truculent-looking fellow now came -in, making five men in all. -</p> - -<p> -'He has money galore on him—Nan saw -the gold—money in a canvas bag. How -comes he, a sergeant, to have all this in his -grab, unless he stole it?' said Jarrett, in -explanation to the new-comer. -</p> - -<p> -'Of course he stole it—it's regimental -money, and evidently he is deserting with -it,' said the other, who was no doubt, like -Jarrett, a Queen's bad bargain also; for he -added, 'What the devil do Cardwell's short-service -soldiers care about their chances of -pension or promotion—that's the reason he -has the bag of gold; so why shouldn't we -make it ours? It is only dolloping a knife -into him, and then burying him out in the -veldt before daylight. Even if he was -traced here, who is to be accountable for a -deserter?' -</p> - -<p> -And this practical ruffian proceeded at -once to put a finer edge and point upon his -long bowie knife. -</p> - -<p> -'You forget that he has a revolver,' said Nan. -</p> - -<p> -'I don't,' said Jarrett; 'but he ain't likely -to use it in his sleep, especially when we pin -him by the throat.' -</p> - -<p> -He was but one against five armed and -reckless desperadoes; and there was the -woman, too, whose hands were ready for -evil work. The stair that led to his room -was narrow—so much so that there was but -space for one on a step. The lower or outer -door he knew to be securely locked and -bolted. The window of his room, we have -said, overlooked the lean-to roof of the -stable, where he knew that two horses were -in stall—a sure means of escape could he -reach one; but the door, he was aware, was -locked, and the key in possession of the -Kaffir groom. -</p> - -<p> -He was maddened by the thought that his -barbarous and obscure death would brand -him with a double disgrace; and death is -more than ever hard when suffered at the -hands of cowards. -</p> - -<p> -'What is the use of all this blooming -talk?' said one, starting from the table; 'let -us set about the job at once!' -</p> - -<p> -'Look you,' said Jarrett, 'if roused he'll -perhaps try to escape by the stable-roof, so -while you fellows go up the stair, I go round -to the back of the house and cut off his -retreat.' -</p> - -<p> -'The stable-roof,' thought Florian, 'my -only chance lies that way.' -</p> - -<p> -He opened the window at the very -moment that stealthy steps sounded on the -wooden stair, and a red light streamed under -the door, which their felon hands failed to -force, so firmly was the chair wedged -between it and the bed. He slid down the -stable-roof, and dropped safely on the ground, -to be faced by Josh Jarrett, who came rushing -on, knife in hand, but Florian shot him -down, firing two chambers into his very -teeth, and then he sprang away like a hare -out into the open veldt, leaving the ruffian -wallowing in his blood. -</p> - -<p> -He knew not and cared not in what -direction he ran at first, as he could hear the -oaths and imprecations of his pursuers, over -whom his youth, lightness, and activity gave -him an advantage; but after a time red-dawn -began to streak the eastern sky, and he -knew that was the direction which, if he was -spared, would take him to the bank of the -Buffalo River. -</p> - -<p> -He continued to run at a good steady -double, saving his wind as he did so, and his -courage and confidence rose when he found -that he was distancing his pursuers so much -that he could neither see nor hear anything -of them. -</p> - -<p> -As he ran on he thought for a moment or -two of the fierce gleaming eyes and glistening -teeth of Jarrett—of the blood he had shed, -and the life he had perhaps taken for the -first time, remorsefully; but had he not acted -thus, what would he have been? A gashed -corpse! -</p> - -<p> -'Bah!' he said aloud, 'I am a soldier—why -such thoughts at all? Why should I -have mercy when these wretches would have -had none?' and he began to regret that he -had not fired a random shot or two through -the room-door and knocked over some of -them on the staircase. -</p> - -<p> -A sound now struck his ear; it was the -thud of galloping hoofs upon the veldt, and -his heart sank as he remembered the two -horses in the stable, where his dead nag was -lying. -</p> - -<p> -He looked back, and there, sure enough, -in the grey dawn were two mounted men -riding in scouting fashion, far apart, and he -could not for a moment doubt they were two -of Jarrett's companions in pursuit, thirsting -with avarice and for revenge. -</p> - -<p> -He made his way, stumbling wildly and -breathlessly down a wooded ravine to elude -their sight; on and on he strove till a vine -root caught his foot: his hands outstretched -beat the air for a moment, and then he fell -headlong forward and downward into a -donga full of brushwood. -</p> - -<p> -For a moment he had a sense of strange -palms, and giant cacti, and of great plants -with long spiky leaves being about him, and -then he became unconscious as he lay there -stunned and bleeding profusely from a wound -in his forehead, which had come in contact -with a stone. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -END OF VOL. 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