-cil MONICA. MONICA H 1Rov>eL BY EVELYN EVEEETT-GEEEISr. Author of •ToRwooB's Trust," "The Last of the Dacres, " RUTHYEX OP RUTHYEX," ETC. IX THREE V0LU3IES. VOL. I. LONDON : WAEL> AND DOWNEY, 12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C. 1889, PRINTED BY KELLY AND CO., GATE STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, AND KINGSTON-ON-THAMES, ?25 CONTENTS. CHAPTER THE FIRST. PAGE The Trevlyns of Castle Trevlyn . . . 1 ^ CHAPTER THE SECOND. Monica's Ride 23 - CHAPTER THE THIRD. Lord Trevlyn's Heir 43 CHAPTER THE FOURTH. Conrad Fitzgerald 63 CHAPTER THE FIFTH. S Sunday at Trevlyn ...... 84 a ^ CHAPTER THE SIXTH. t In Peril 103 o CHAPTER THE SEVENTH. j^ "Wilt thou Have this Woman?" . . .125 CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. •• Woo'd, and Married, and A' '' . . . 145 vi CONTENTS. CHAPTER THE NINTH. PAGE Married . . . . . . . . 167 CHAPTER THE TENTH. Mischief-makers . . . . . . 181 CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH. The Little Rift 206 MONICA MONICA. CHAPTER THE FIEST. THE THEVLYNS OF CASTLE TREVLYN. " Good-bye, Monica. I will look in again to-morrow : but I assure you there is no cause for anxiety. He is not worse than usual, and will be better soon." The doctor was buttoning up his heavy driving- coat as he spoke, and at the con- clusion of the sentence he opened the heavy oak door, letting in a blast of cold air and a sheet of fine, penetrating rain. " Oh, Eaymond, what weather ! I ought not to have sent for you." VOL. I. 1 2 MONICA. " Nonsenss ! Yoa know I am weather- proof. 01(1 Jack will find his way home, if I cannot. Good-bye again." The door closed upon the stalwart figure, and Lady Monica Trevlyn was left standing alone upon the wide staircase, amid the gathering shadows of the great hall. Castle Trevlyn was, in truth, a sufficiently grim and desolate place, both within and without. Tangled park, dense pine woods, and a rocky iron-bound coast surrounded it, cutting it off, at it were, from communi- cation with the outside world. Within its walls lay a succession of vast, stately chambers, few of them now inhabited — regions where carved black oak, faded tapestry, rusty armour, and antique relics of bygone days seemed to reign in a sort of mournful grandeur, telling their own THE TREVLYNS OF CASTLE TEEVLYX. 3 tale of past magnificence and of present poverty and decay. Yes, the Trevlyns were a fallen race ; for tlie past tliree generations the reigning earl had been poor, and the present Lord Trevlyn had failed to do anything towards restoring the decaying fortunes of his house. He too was very poor, hence the air of neglect that reigned around and within the castle. Monica, however, his only child, was far too well used to the gloom and grim- ness of the old castle to be in the least oppressed by it. She loved her lonely, desolate home with a curious, passionate intensity, and could not picture any- thing more perfect than the utter silence and isolation that hemmed in her life. The idea of desiring a change 4 MONICA. had never so mucli as occurred to her. Monica was very beautiful, with a beauty of a rare kind, that haunted the memory of those who saw her, as a strain of music sometimes haunts the ear. Her face was always pale and grave, and at first sight cold even to hardness, yet endued with an underl^dng depth and sweetness that often eluded observation, though it never failed to make itself felt. It was a lovely face — • like that of a pictured saint for purity of outline, of a Greek statue for perfection of feature — almost as calm and colourless as marble itself. Yet, behind the sta- tuesque severity lay that strange, sad, v^istful sweetness which could not quite be hidden away, and gave to the beholder the idea that some great trouble had over- THE TEEVLYNS OF CASTLE TEEVLYN. 5 sLadowecl tlie girl's life. Let us go wiili her, and see what that trouble was. "When the door closed upon Eaymond Pendrill, she stood for a moment or two silent and motionless, then turned and mounted the shallow stairs once more, and, passing down a long corrider, opened the door of a fire -lit room, and entered softly. The room had two tenants : one, a great mastiiF dog, who acknowledged Monica's entrance by gently flopping his tail against the floor ; the other, a lad of seventeen, wdio lay upon an invalid couch, his face very white and his brows drawn with pain. As Monica looked at him her face quivered, and a look of unspeakable tenderness swept over it, transfiguring 6 MONICA. it for tlie moment, and showing wonderful possibilities in every line and curve. She bent over him, laying one cool, strong hand upon his hot head. " Better, Arthur ? '' " Yes, getting better. That stuff Ray- mond gave me is taking the pain away. Stir up the fire, and sit where I can see you. I like that best." Arthur Pendrill, cousin to Eaymond Pendrill, the young doctor who had just left the castle, was the only child by a first marriage of Lord Trevlyn's second wife. Hoping for an heir, the earl had married again when Monica was seven years old, but his hopes had not been realised, and the second Lady Trevlyn had died only a few years after her union with him. THE TEEVLTNS OF CASTLE TEEVLYN. 7 Arthur, w^lio had been only a mite of t^o years old when he first came to Castle Trevlyn, knew nothing, of course, of any other home ; and he and Monica had o-rown up like brother and sister, and were tenderly attached, perhaps all the more so from radical differences of character and temperament. Their childhcod had been uncloudedly happy ; they had enjoyed a glorious liberty in their wild Cornish home that could hardly have been ac- corded to them anywhere else. Monica's had always been the leading spirit ; physi- cally as well as mentally, she had always been the stronger ; but he adored her, and emulated her with the zeal and enthusiasm of youth. He followed her wherever she led like a veritable shadow, until that fatal day, five years ago, which had laid 8 MONICA. liim upon a bed of sickness, and had turned Monica in a few hours' time from a child to a woman. Upon that day there had been a terrible end to the mad-cap exploits in clifF- climbing in which the girl had always delighted, and Arthur had been carried back to the castle, as all believed, to die. He did not die, however, but recovered to a suffering, helpless, invalid life ; and Monica, who held herself sternly responsi- ble for all, and who had nursed him with a devotion that no mother could have surpassed, now vowed deep down in her heart that her own life should henceforth be devoted to him, that for him she would in future live, and that whatever she could do to lighten his load of pain and make his future happier should be done, at THE TREVLYNS OF CASTLE TREVLYN. 9 whatever cost to herself, as the one atone- ment possible for the rashness which had cost him so dear. Five years ago that vow had been recorded, and Monica, from a gay, high- spirited girl, had grown into a pale, silent, thoughtful woman ; but she had never wearied of her self-imposed charge — never faltered in her resolution. Arthur was her special, sacred charge. Anything that would conduce to his welfare and happiness was to be accomplished at whatever cost. So far, to tend and care for him had been her aim and object of life, and her deep love had made the office sweet. It had never occurred to her that any contingency could possibly arise by which separation from him should prove the truest test of her devotion. 10 MONICA. Whilst Arthur and Monica were dream- ing their own dreams upstairs, by the light of his dancing fire, no thought of coming changes clouding the horizon of their imagination, downstairs, in the earl's study, a consultation was being held between him and his sister which would have startled Monica not a little had she heard it. Lord Trevlyn was a tall, stately, grey- headed man of sixtj^, with a finely-chiselled face and the true Trevlyn cast of counten- ance that his daughter had inherited. His countenance wore, however, a look of pallor and ill-health that, to a practised eye, de- noted weakness of the heart, and his figure had lost its old strength and elasticity, and had grown thin and a little bowed. His expression had much of gentleness mingling with its pride and austerity, as if, with THE TKEYLYNS OF CASTLE TEEVLYN. 11 the advance of years, liis nature liad softened and sweetened, as indeed had been the case. Lady Diana, on the other hand, had grown more sharp and dictatorial with advancin^f a^'e. She was a "modish" old lady, who, although quite innocent of such adornments, always suggested the idea of powder and patches, high-heeled shoes and hoops. She generally carried a fan in her hand, dressed richly and quaintly, and looked something like a human parrot, with her hooked nose, keen black eyes, and quick, sharp voice and movements. She had an independent and sufficient income of her ow^n, and divided her time between her London house and her brother's Cornish castle. She had always expressed it as her intention to 12 ]VIO^•ICA. provide for Monica, as her father could do little for his daughter, everything going with the entail in the male line ; but there was a sort of instinctive hostility be- tween aunt and niece, of which both were well aware, and Lady Diana was always deeply offended and annoyed by Monica's quiet independence, and her devotion to Arthur. It was of Monica they were talking this boisterous autumn eveninsf. " She has a sadly independent spirit," remarked Lady Diana, sighing, and fanning herself slowly, although the big panelled room was by no means warm. " I often think of her future, and wonder what will become of her." Lord Trevlyn made no immediate re- sponse, but by-and"by said slowly : THE TREV'LYXS OF CASTLE TREVLYN. 13 " I have been thinking of late very seriously of the future." " Why of late ? " was the rather sharp question. " I have not been feeling so well since my illness in the spring. Eaymond Pen- drill and his brother have both spoken seriously to me about the necessit}^ for care. I know what that means — they think my state critical. If I am taken, what will become of Monica ? " " I shall, cf course, provide for her." " I know you will do all that is kind and generous ; but money is not every- thing. Monica is peculiar : she wants controlling, yet " " Yet no one can control her : I know that well ; or only Arthur and his whims. She has no companions but her dogs and U MONICA. horses. My blood runs cold every time I see her on that wild black thing she rides, with those great dogs bounding round her. There will be another shocking accident one of these days. She ought to be controlled — taken away from her ex- traordinary life. Yet she will not hear of coming to London with me even on a short visit ; she will not even let me speak of it," and Lady Diana's face showed that she was much affronted, " That is just it," said Lord Trevlyn, slowly ; " her life and Arthur's both seem bound up in Trevlyn." Lady Diana made a significant gesture, which the earl understood. • " Just so ; and yet — unless under most exceptional circumstances — unless what I hardly dare to hope should happen — she THE TRE7LYNS OF CASTLE TKE7LYN. 15 must, they must both leave it, at some not very distant date." The hesitation of Lord Trevlyn's manner did not escape his sister. " What do you mean ? " she asked abruptly. " I mean that I have been in correspon- dence lately with my heir, and that I expect him shortly at Trevlyn." " Your heir ? " " Yes, Kandolph Trevlyn, one of the Warwickshire branch. The extinction of the Trevlyns at Drayton last year, you know, made him the next in succession. I made inquiries about him, and then entered into personal communication." Lady Diana looked keenly interested. " What have you made out ? " " That he is very well spoken of every- 16 MONICA. where as a young man of high character and excellent parts. He is wealthy — very wealthy, I believe, an only son, and en- riched by a long minority. He is six or seven and twenty, and he is not married." Lady Diana's eyes began to sparkle. " And he is coming here ? " " Yes, next week. Of course I need not tell you what is in my thoughts. I object to m.atch-making, as a rule. I shall put no pressure upon Monica cf any kind, but if those two should by chance learn to love one another, I could say my ' Nunc dimittis ' at any time." Lady Diana looked very thoughtful. " Monica is undoubtedly beautiful," she said, " and she is interesting, which perhaps is better." Her brother, however, made no reply, and as he did not appear in- THE TREVLYNS OF CASTLE TREVLYN. 17 cliiied to discuss the matter farther — they were seldom in entire accord in talking of Monica — she presently rose and quitted the room, saying softly to herself as she did so, " I should love to see that proud girl with a husband's strong hand over her." That evening, when alone with his daughter. Lord Trevlyn introduced the topic most in his thoughts at that time. " Monica, do you never want a little variety ? What should you say to a visitor at Trevlyn ? " " I would try to make one comfortable. Are you expecting anyone, father ? " " Yes, a kinsman of ours : Mr. Trevlyn, whose acquaintance I wish to make." " Who is he ? I never heard of him before." U" " Xo ; I have not known much about VOL. I. 2 18 MONICA. him myself till lately, when circumstances made him my heir. Monica, have you ever thought what will happen at Trevlyn in the event of my death ? " A very troubled look crept into Monica's dark, unfathomable eyes. Her face looked pained and strained. " I think you ought to know, Monica," said the earl, gently. " Perhaps you have thought that the estates would pass to you in due course of time." Monica pressed her hands closely to- gether, but her voice was steady, her words were quietly spoken. " I do not know if I have ever thought about it ; but I suppose I have fancied you would leave all to Arthur or to me." " Exactly, you would naturally inherit all I have to leave ; but Trevlyn is entailed THE TREVLYNS OF CASTLE TREVLYX. 19 in the male line, and goes with the title. At my death Mr. Eandolph Trevlyn will be the next earl, and all will be his." Monica sat very still, feeling as if she had received some sudden stunning blow ; but she could not take in all in a moment the f^ist of such intelligence. A woman in some matters, she was a child in others. " But, father," she said quietly, and without apparent emotion, " Arthur is surely much nearer to you than this Mr. Trevlyn, whom you have never seen ? " The earl smiled half-sadly, and shook his head. " My dear, you do not understand these things ; I feel towards Arthur as if he were my son, but he is not of my kindred. He is my wife's son, not mine ; he is not a Trevlyn at all." 20 MONICA. Monica's troubled gaze rested on her father's face. " He cannot live anywhere but at Trevlyn," she said, slowly. " It would kill him to take him anywhere else ; " and in her heart she added — a little jealous hostility rising up in her heart against the stranger and usurper who was coming — " He ought to have it. He is a son and a brother here. By every law of right Trevlyn should be his." Foolish, irrational Monica! Where Arthur was concerned her eyes were blinded, her reason was warped by her love. And the ways of the great outside world were so difficult to understand. Presently she spoke in very low, measured tones, though not without a it tie falter in her voice now and then. THE TREVLYNS OF CASTLE TREVLYN. 21 " You mean that if — if you were to die — Arthur and I should be turned out of Trevlyn." " You would neither of you have any right to remain," answered Lord Trevlyn, choosing his words with care. " You would find a home with your aunt ; and as for Arthur, I suppose he would go to his cousins — unless, indeed, if he seemed unable to live away from the place, some arrangement with my successor could be made. Everything would depend on him, but of course it would be a difficult arrangement." She drew a long breath, and passed her hand across her eyes. " Mr. Trevlyn is coming here, you say?" " Yes, next week. I think it is right 22 MONICA. that we should become acquainted with our kinsman, especially as so much may- depend upon him in the future/' " I think so too," answered Monica ; and then she quietly left him, without uttering another word. g^a^:^^ ^^^ CHAPTEK THE SECOND. Monica's ride. The next morning dawned fair and clear, as is often the case after a storm. Monica rose early, her first thought, as usual, for Arthur. She crept on tip-toe to his room, to find him as she had left him, sleeping calmly — as he was likely now to do for hours, after the attack of the previous day ; and finding herself no longer required by him, the girl was not long in making up her mind how these early hours of glimmering daylight were to be spent. Seven o'clock found her in the saddle, mounted on her glossy black thorough-bred, who, gentle under her hand, would brook 24 MONICA. no other rider, and showed his mettle in every graceful eager movement, and in the restless quivering of his shapely limbs. His coat shone like satin in the pale early sunlight ; he pranced and curvetted as he felt his rider upon his back. Monica and her horse together made a picture that for beauty and grace could hardly meet its match in the length and breadth of the land. The girl was perfectly at home in the saddle. She heeded no whit the pawing of her steed, or the delighted baying of the great hounds who formed her escort, and whose noise caused Guy's delicate nerves many a restive start. She gathered up her reins with practised hand, soothed him by a gentle caress, and rode quietly and absently out of the great grass-grown MONICA'S EIDE. 25 court-yard and through a stretch of tangled park beyond. Once outside the gates, she turned to the right, and quickly gained a narrow grass-grown track, which led for miles alono- the ed^e of the e^reat frowning cliffs that almost overhung at a giddy height the tossing ocean far below. It was a perilous-looking path enough — one false step would be enough to hurl both horse and rider to certain destruction, but Monica rode fearlessly onward ; she and her horse were familiar with every step of the way, both knew the wild cliff path, and both loved it ; and Guy stretched his delicate supple limbs in one of those silent gallops over the elastic turf in which his heart delighted. Monica seldom passed more than a day without traversing that well-known track. 26 MONICA. She loved to feel the fresh salt wind as it blew off the sea and met her face. Some- times it was w^arm and tender as a caress, sometimes fierce and boisterous, a wet, blinding blast, laden w^ith spray from the tempest-tossed waves below ; but to-day it was a keen, fresh wind, salt, and strong, and life-giving — a wind that brought the warm colour to her cheek, the light to her eye and gave a peculiar and indescribable radiance to her usually cold and statuesque beauty. To-day she felt strangely restless and uneasy. A sort of haunting fear was upon her, a presentiment of coming trouble, that was perhaps all the harder to bear from its very vagueness. She had never before realised that the future would bring any change to the course of her life, save MONICA'S EIDE. 27 that of gradually increasing age. Not for an instant had it ever occurred to her that a possibility such as that hinted at last night by her father could by any chance arise. That she and Arthur might ever have to leave Trevlyn seemed the wildest of all wild dreams, and yet that is what in all probability must happen in the event of her father's death. Monica shuddered at the bare idea. Her beautiful dark eyes glowed strangely. It must not, it should not be. It would be too cruel, too hard, too unjust ! In deep abstraction, Monica rode along the cliff for some three miles, then turning her horse's head inland, she crossed an open space of wind-swept down, leaped a low stone wall, and found herself in a road, which she followed for some considerable 28 MONICA. distance. It led at length to the quaint little town of St. Maws, a pretty little place, nestling down in a wooded hollow, and intersected by a narrow inlet from the sea, which was spanned by a many-arched bridge. All the trees in the neighbourhood seemed to have collected round St. Maws, and its inhabitants were justly proud of their stately oaks and graceful beeches. Monica rode quietly through the empty streets, returning now and again a salutation from some tradesman or rustic. It w^as still early — only eight o'clock — and the sleepy little place was slowly awaking from its night's repose. At the far end of the town stood a good-sized house, well hidden from view behind a high brick wall. Guy turned in at the gate of his own accord, and, following a short, winding MONICA'S RIDE. 29 carriage drive, halted before tlie front door. The house was of warm red brick, mellowed by age ; there was an indescribable air of comfort and hospitahtj hanging over it. It was mantled by glossy ivy, and its gables, steep pitched roof, and twisted chimneys were charmingly picturesque. The door stood wide open as if to invite entrance. Monica's hounds had already announced her approach, and a tall, wiry-looking man of some thirty summers was stand- ing upon the threshold. He was not much like his brother, the blue-eyed, brown- bearded Eaymond, having a thin, sharp, closely-shaved face, very keen penetrating eyes, and a cynical mouth. Tom Pendrill was himself a doctor, like his brother ; but he did not practise on his own account, being a man of scientific predilections, with so MONICA. a taste for autliorsliip. His college fellowship rendered him independent of lucrative employment, and, save for assist- ing his brother with critical cases, his time was spent in study and research. " Well, Monica, you are abroad early to-day," was his greeting. Arthur's cousins had been like cousins to Monica almost ever since she could remember. *' You have come to breakfast, of course ? " " I came to tell Eaymond not to trouble to call at Trevlyn to-da}^, if he is busy. Arthur is much better. I want to see Aunt Elizabeth ; but I should like some breakfast very much." "I will take your horse," said Tom, as the girl slipped from the saddle. " You will find Aunt Elizabeth in the breakfast-room." MONICA'S EIDE. 31 The "Aunt Elizabeth " thus alluded to was the widow of the Tendrills' uncle, and she had lived with them for many years, keeping their house, and bring- ing into it that element of womanly re- finement and comfort which can never be found in a purely bachelor establish- ment. The young men were both warmly attached to her, as was her other nephew, Arthur, at the Castle. As for Monica, " Aunt Elizabeth " had been to her almost like a mother, supplying that great want in the girl's life of which she was only vaguely conscious — the want of tender womanly comprehension and sympathy in the trials and troubles of childhood and youth. It had been her habit for many years to brinf]^ all her troubles to Mrs. Pendrill. 32 MONICA. She did not discuss them with Artliur. Her mission was to soothe and clieer him, not to infect him with any fears or sorrows. He was her boy, her charge, her dearly- loved brother, but Aunt Elizabeth was her confidant and friend. She was a very sweet-looking old lady, with snow-white hair, and a gentle, placid, earnest face. She greeted Monica with a peculiarly tender smile, and asked after Arthur with the air of one who loved him. " He is better," said Monica, " much better, or I could not have come. He is asleep ; he will most likely sleep till noon. I want to talk to you. Aunt Elizabeth. I felt I must come to you. When breakfast is over, please let us go somewhere together. There is so much I want to say." MONICA'S RIDE, 33 When tliey found themselves at length secure from interruption in Mrs. Penclrill's pretty little parlour, Monica stood very quiet for a minute or two, and then turning abruptly to her aunt, she asked : " Is my father very much out of health?" Mrs. Pendrill was a little startled. " What makes you ask that, my love ? " "I can hardly say — I think it is the way he looked, the way Jie spoke. Please tell me the truth, dear Aunt Elizabeth. I have nobody but you to turn to," and there was a pathetic quiver in the voice as well as in the pale, sweet face. Mrs. Pendrill did not try to deceive her. She knew from both her nephews that Lord Trevlyn's health was in a very precarious state, and she loved Monica too well not to VOL. I. o Si MONICA. wish to see her somewhat prepared for a change that must inevitably fall upon her sooner or later. She had alwa^^s shrunk from thinking of this trouble, she shrank from bringing it home to Monica now ; but a plain question had been asked, and her answer must not be too ambiguous. Monica listened very quietly, as was her wont, not betraying any emotion save in the strained look of pain in her great dark eyes. Then very quietly, too, she told Mrs. Pendrill what her father had said the pre- vious evening about his heir, and about the prospective visit. " Aunt Elizabeth," said Monica suddenly after a long pause, betraying for the first time the emotion she felt, " Aunt Elizabeth, I do not wish to be wicked or ungenerous, but I hate that man ! He has no right to MO>;iCA'S EIDE. 35 be at Trevlyn, yet lie will some day come and turn out Arthur and me. I cannot help hating him for it ; but oh, if only he would be good to Arthur, if only he would let him stay, I could bear anvthinof else I think. Do you think he would be generous, and would let him keep his own little corner of the Castle ? It does not seem much to ask, yet father thought it might be difficult. Arthur is so patient, so good, he might learn to love him — he might even adopt him, so to speak. Am 1 very foolish to hope such things, Aunt Elizabeth ? — the}^ do not seem impossible to me." Mrs. Pendrill mused a little while. " Has this Mr. Trevlyn any family ? " '' I do not know. Father did not speak of a wife. I fancy he is an old bachelor." 3* 6 MONICA. ''He is old, then?" ''• I fancy lie is elderly, or at any rate middle-aged, or father would hardly care to have him on a visit. He must be younger than father, of course, but I do not know anything more about him. Oh, it will be very hard ; but if he will only be good to Arthur, I will try to bear the rest." " I am sure you will, my Monica," said Mrs. Pendrill tenderly. " I am sure you will never be ungenerous or act unworthily. A dark cloud seems hanging over your life, but there is light behind, though we cannot always see it. And, remember, my darling, that gold shines all the brighter for having been tried in the furnace.'' " I know the fellow," said Tom Pendrill, an hour later, when Monica had gone, an MONICA'S EIDE. 37 he had heard from his aunt part of what had passed between them. " Monica is out about his age ; he can't be more than six or seven and twenty, and a right good fellow he is too, and would make my lady a capital husband, if he is not married already. Eandolph Trevlyn was at Oxfoi'd; I knew him there pretty well, though he was only an undergraduate when I had taken my degree. The name sounded home- like, and I made friends with him. He wasn't anywhere near the title then, but I suppose there have been deaths in the family since. Well, well, the earl is quite right to have him down, and if he could manage to fall in love with Monica and marry her, it would simplify matters wonderfully ; but that wild bird will need a good deal of training before she will 38 MOi^ICA. come at a husband's call, and there is such a thing as spreading the snare too much in the sight of the quarry." No thought of this kind, however, entered into Monica's head. She was far too unversed in the ways of the world to entertain the smallest suspicion of the hopes entertained on her account. She thought a good deal of the coming guest as the days went by — thought of him with bitterness, with aversion, with mistrust, but in the light of a possible husband — never for a single instant. It was the day before the stranger was expected, and Monica, as the sun was sinking in the sk}^, was riding alone in the pine wood that surrounded the Castle. She was grave and pre-occupied, as she had been for the week past, haunted MONICA'S EIDE. 39 by the presage of coming sorrow and change. Her face was pale and sad, yet there was a wonderful depth of sweetness in its expression of wistful melancholy. The setting sun, slanting through the ruddy trunks of the tall pines, shone full upon her, lighting her golden hair, and making an aureole of glory round her head, showing off with peculiar clear distinctness the graceful outline of her supple figure and the beauty of the horse she rode. She was in a very thoughtful mood, so absent and pre-occupied as to be quite lost to outside impressions, when Guy suddenly swerved and reared, with a violence that would have unseated a less practised rider. Monica was not in the least alarmed, but the movement aroused her from her reverie, and she was quickly made 40 MONICA. aware of what had frightened the horse. A tall, broad-shouldered young man stepped forward, and laid a hand upon Guy's bridle, lifting his hat at the same time, and disclosing a broad brow, with a .sweeping wave of dark hair lying across it. ^' I beg a thousand pardons ; I believe I frightened your horse. He is evidently unused to the sight of trespassers. I trust you have not been alarmed." Monica smiled at the notion ; her face had been somewhat set and cold till the apology had been made. The stranger had no right to be there, certainly, but his frank admission of the fact went far to palliate the crime. She allowed herself to smile, and the smile was in itself a reve- lation. MONICA'S EIDE. 41 " It does not matter," she said quietly. " I know tlie wood is perplexing ; but if you keep bearing to the west you will find the road before long. Ko, I was not frightened, thank you. Good after- noon." She bent her head slightly, and the stranger uncovered again. He was smiling now, and she could not deny that he was very good-looking, and every inch the gentleman. She had not an idea who he was nor what he could be doing there ; but it was no business of hers. He was probably some tourist who had lost his way exploring the beauties of the coast. She was just a little puzzled by the look his face had worn as he turned away : there was a sort of subdued amusement in 42 MONICA. the dark blue eyes, and his long brown moustache had quivered as if with the effort to subdue a smile. Yet there had been nothing in the least impertinent in his manner ; on the contrary, he had been particularly courtly and polished in his bearing. Monica dismissed the subject from her mind, and rode home as the sun dipped beneath the far horizon. >?A; CHAPTER THE THIRD. LOKD TREVLYN's HEIR Lord Trevlyn sat in his study in the slowly waning daylight, waiting the arrival of his expected guest. Now that the moment had come, he shrank from the meeting a good deal more than he had once believed he should do. It was so loncf since he had seen a strange face, and his relations w^ith this unknown heir would perhaps be difficult : undoubtedly the situation was somewhat strained. Would the youug man think a trap was being set for him in the person of the beautiful Monica ? Was he acting a wise or fatherly part in schem- 44 MONICA. ing to give her to this stranger, if it should be possible to do so ? He had liked the tone of Eandolph Trevlyn's courteously-worded acceptance of his invitation. He had liked all that he heard of the man himself. He had a sort of presentiment that his wish would in time be realised, that this visit would not be fruitless ; but his child's happiness : would that be secured in securing to her the possession of a well- loved home ? Eandolph Trevlyn would hardly be likely to spend any great part of his life at this lonely sea-bound castle. He might pass a few months there, perhaps ; but where would the bulk of his time be spent ? Lord Trevlyn tried to picture his beau- LORD TEEVLYNS HEIR. 45 tiful, wayward, freedom-loving daughter mixing in tlie giddy whirl of London life, learning its ways and following its fashions, and he utterly failed to do so. She seemed indissolubly connected with the wild sea-coast, with the gloomy pine-woods, with the rugged independence of her sea- girt home. Monica a fashionable young countess, leading a gay life of social dis- traction ! The thing seemed impossible. But he had no time to indulge his imaginings farther. The door opened, and his guest was ushered in. The old earl rose and bade him welcome with his cus- tomary simple, stately courtesy. It was growing somewhat dark in that oak- panelled room, and for a minute or two he hardly distinguished the features of the stranger, but the voice and the words 46 MONICA. in whicli the young man answered liis greeting pleased his fastidious taste, and a haunting dread of which he had scarcely been fully aware faded from his mind at once and for ever in the first moment of introduction. Lord Trevlyn heaved an unconscious sigh of relief when he resumed his seat, and was able to give a closer scrutiny to his guest. One glance at his face, figure, and dress, together with the pleasant sound of his voice, convinced Lord Trevlyn that this young man was a gentleman in the rather restricted sense in which he em- ployed that elastic term. He was a handsome, broad-shouldered, powerful man, with a line figure, dark hair and moustache, dark blue eyes, frank and well-opened, a quiet, commanding air LORD TREVLYN'S HEIR. 47 and carriage, and that cast of countenance which plainly showed that the blood of the Trevlyns ran in his veins. Lord Trevlyn eyed him with quiet satisfaction, and from the conversation that ensued he had no reason to rescind his favourable impression. Eandolph Trevlyn was evidently a man of culture and refinement, with a mental capacity distinctly above the average. He was, morever, emphatically a man of the world in its truest and widest sense — a man who has lived in the world, and studied it closely, learning thereby from its silent teaching the good and the evil thereof. The two men talked for a time of the family to which they belonged, and the deaths that had lately taken place, bringino- this young man so near to the title. 48 MONICA. "The Trevlyns seem to be a dying race," said the old ear], half sadly. " Our family is slowly dying out. I suppose it has done its work in the world, and is not needed any longer in these stirring times. You and my daughter are now the sole representatives of the Trevlyns in your generation, as my sister and I are in ours." Eandolph Trevlyn looked into his kins- man's face with a great deal of reverence and admiration. He liked to meet a man who was a genuine specimen of the " old school." He felt a natural reverence for the head of his house, and his liking showed itself in voice and manner. Lord Trevlyn saw this, and was gratified, whilst the younger man was pleased to feel himself in accord with his host. The interview ended wdth mutual satisfaction on both LORD TREVLYN'S HEIR. 49 sides, and Eandolpli was taken up tlie great oak staircase, down one or two dim, ghostly corridors, and landed finally in a couple of large panelled rooms, most antiquely and quaintly furnished, in both of which, however, great fires of pine logs were blazing cheerily. " We dine at eight," Lord Trevlyn had said, in parting with his guest. " I shall hope then to have the pleasure of introducing you to my sister and my daughter." Left alone in his comfortable but rather grim-looking quarters, Eandolph broke into a low lauofh. " And so this sombre old place, full of ghosts and phantoms of departed days — this enchanted castle between sea and forest — is the home of the lovely girl I saw VOL. T. 4 50 MONICA. yesterday ! Incongruous, and yet so en- tirely appropriate ! She wants a setting of her own, different from anything else. It must have been Lady Monica I encoun- tered, the lady of the pine-wood. What a sad, proud, lovely face it was, with its frame of golden hair, and soft eyes like a deer's ; and her voice was as sweet as her face, low, and rich, and full of music. What has been the secret of her life ? Some sorrow, I am certain, has over- shadowed it. Who will be the happy man to bring the sunshine back to that lovely troubled face ? Eandolph Trevlyn, do not run on so fast. You are no longer a boy. You must not judge by first impressions ; you will know more of her soon." Eandolph's encounter with Monica the previous day had been purely accidental. LORD TREVLYN'S HEIR. 51 The young man had reached St. Maws one day earlier than he had expected, one day earlier than he had been invited to arrive at the Castle. Some business in Plymouth which he had expected would detain him some days had been despatched with greater speed than he had anticipated, and he had gone on to St. Maws to renew acquaintance with his old friend Pendrill, who lived, as he remembered, in that place. When he descended to the drawing room it was to find the earl and Lady Diana there before him, and he made as favour- able an impression upon the vivacious old lady as he had done before upon her brother. Yet he found his attention stray- ing sometimes from the animated talk of his companion, and his eyes would wander to the door by which Monica must enter. 4* m mmijy Of iLLims 52 MONICA. She came at last, stately, beautiful, statu- esque, her dress an antique cream-coloured brocade, that had, without doubt, belonged to some remote ancestress ; her golden hair coiled like a crown upon her graceful head. She had that same indescribable air of iso- lation and remoteness that had struck him so much when he had seen her riding in the wood. She did not lift her eyes when her father presented the stranger to her, but only bent her head very slightly, and sat down by herself, somewhat apart. But when dinner was announced, and Eandolph gave her his arm to lead her in, she raised her eyes, and their glances met. He saw that she recognised him, and yet she fjave not the slifrhtest siffn of havinsf done so, and her face settled into lines of even more severe gravity than before. He LOED TEEVLYN'S HEIE. 53 felt that she was annoyed at his having met and addressed her previously, and that she would brook no allusion to the encounter. His talk with the Pendrills had prepared him somewhat for Monica's coldness towards himself. It was natural enough, he thought, and perhaps a little interesting, especially as he meant to set himself to win her good-will at last. He did not make much way during dinner. Monica was very silent, and Lady Diana engrossed almost all his attention ; but he was content to bide his time, conscious of the charm of her presence, and of the haunting, pathetic character of her beauty, and deeply touched by the Btory of her devotion to the crippled, suffering Arthur, which was told him by the earl when they were alone together, 54 MONICA. with more of detail than he had heard it before. When he returned to the drawing-room, he went straight up to Monica, and said : " I am going to ask a favour of you, Lady Monica. I want to know if you will be good enough to introduce me to your brother ? " Her face softened slightly as she raised her eyes to his. It was a happy instinct that had led Eandolph to call Arthur by the name she most loved to hear, " your brother." " You would like to see him to-night ? " •" If it is not too late to intrude upon an invalid, I should very much." "I think he would be pleased," said Monica. " It is so seldom he has any one to talk to." LORD TEEVLYX'S HEIR. 55 The visit to Arthur was a great success. The lad took to Eandolph at once, de- lighted to find him so young, so pleasant, and so companionable. Of course he identified him at once as the hero of ]\Lonica's adventure yesterday, and was amused to hear his account of the meeting. Monica did not stay long in the room ; but her absence enabled Arthur to sing her praises as he loved to do, and Eandolph listened with a satisfaction that surprised himself. He was very kind to the boy, sincerely sorry for his helpless state, and more than ready to stand his friend if ever there should be occasion. Bdfjre he left the invalid that night, he felt that in him, at least, he had secured a staunch and trusty friend. But during the days that followed he 56 MONICA. could not hide from himself the fact that Monica avoided him. Indeed, he sometimes hardly saw her from morning till night, and when they did meet at the luncheon or dinner-table, she sat still and silent, scarcely vouchsafing him a word or a look. The first time Eandolph found himself alone with Monica was in this wise : he had been riding about the immediate pre- cincts of the Castle with the earl one morning, and his host was just expressing a wish to extend their ride farther, in order to see some of the best views of the neigh- bourhood — hesitating somewhat on his own account, as he had been forbidden to exert himself by much exercise — when Monica suddenly appeared, mounted on Guy, and attended by her convoy of dogs, ready for her daily gallop. LORD TH EVL YN'S HEIR. 67 Lord Trevlyn's face softened at her approach ; he loved his fair daughter with a deep and tender love. " Monica, my dear, you have come in good time. I want Mr. Trevlyn to see the view of the Castle from the Black Cliff, and the wonderful archway in the rocks farther along the coast. These fine days must not be wasted ; and I feel too tired to under- take the ride myself. Will you act as my substitute, and do the honours of Trevlyn ? " Monica glanced with a sort of mute wistfulness into her father's pale face, and assented quietly. The next moment she and Eandolph were riding side by side over the close soft turf of the sweeping downs. The girl's face was set and grave, she 58 MONICA. seemed lost in thought, and was only roused by the eccentricities of Guy's behaviour. The spirited little barb re- sented company even more than his mistress did, and showed his distaste by every means in his power. He was so troublesome that Eandolph was half afraid for Monica's safety, but she smiled at the idea of danger. " I know Guy too well," she answered ; " it is nothing. He only hates company. He is not used to it." " Had you not better have another horse to-day ? " " Let myself be conquered ? No, thank you. I always say that if that once were to happen, it would never be safe ever for me to ride Guy again." The battle with the horse brought the LORD TPvEVLYNS HEIR. 59 colour to lier face and the light to her eyes. She looked more approachable now as she cantered along beside him (victorious at last, with her dogs bounding about her) than she had ever done before. He drew her out a little about her four- footed favourites, and being a lover of animals himself, and knowing their ways, they found a good deal to say without trenching in any way upon dangerous or personal topics. They visited the places indicated by Lord Trevlyn, and Eandolph admired the beauties of the wild coast with a genuine appreciation that satisfied Monica. Had her companion been anybody but himself — an alien usurper come to spy out the land that would some time be his own — had his praises been less sounded in her 60 MONICA. ears by Lady Diana, whose praise was in Monica's eyes worse than any open condem- nation — she could almost have found it in her heart to like him ; but as it was, jealous distrust drove all kindlier feelings awa}^ and even his handsome person and pleasant address added to her sense of hos- tility and disfavour. Why was he to win all hearts — he wdio would so ruthlessly act the part of tyrant and foe, as soon as his chance came ? Did not even his friend. Lady Diana, continu- ally repeat that his succession to the Trevlyn estate must inevitably mean an im- mediate break-up of all existing forms and usages? Was it not an understood thing that he would exercise his power without considering anything but his strict legal right ? Lady Diana knew the world — that LORD TREVLYN'S HEIR. 61 world to which Eandolph evidently be- longed. If this was her opinion, was it not presumably the right one ? She sneered openly at the suggestion her niece had once thrown out of the possibility of his grant- ing to Arthur liberty to remain at Trevlyn. " You foolish child ! " she said sharply. " What is Arthur to him ? Men do not make sentimental attachments to each other. Arthur has no right here, and Mr. Trevlj^n will show him so very plainly when the time comes." Was it any wonder that Monica's heart rose in revolt against this handsome, powerful stranger, who seemed in a manner to hold her whole future in his strong hands ? Was it strange she avoided him ? Was it difficult to understand that she distrusted him, and that only his 62 MONICA. present kindness to Arthur and the lad's affection for him enabled her to tolerate with any kind of submission his presence in the house ? He tried now to make her talk of herself, of Arthur, of her home and her life there, but she became at once impenetrably silent. Her face assumed its old look of statuesque hauteur. The ride back to the Castle was a very silent one. Eandolph had enjo^^ed the hour he had spent in the company of Lady Monica, but he could not flatter himself that much ground had been gained. CHAPTEE THE FOUETH. COXRAD FITZGERALD. WnETnER Monica would ever have thawed towards him of her own free will Eandolpli Trevlyn could not tell ; but during a sharp attack of illness that prostrated Arthur at this juncture, he was so much in the sick boy's room, and so kind and patient and helpful there, that the girl's coldness began insensibly to melt ; and before the attack had passed, he felt that if she did not share her brotiier's liking for him, at least the old antipathy, hostility, had somewhat abated. They rode out together sometimes now, exploring the country round the Castle, or galloping over the wind-swept moors. 64 MONICA. Monica was generally silent, always reserved and unapproachable, and yet lie felt tliat a certain vantage-ground bad been gained, and he did not intend to allow it to slip away. Unconsciously almost to him- self, the wish had grown to win the heart of this wild, beautiful, lonely young creature. Yet the charm of her solitary tamelessness was so great that he hardly wished the spell to be too suddenly broken. He could not picture Monica other than she was — and yet he was growing to love her with every fibre of his being. • But fortune was not kind to Eandolph, as an incident that quickly followed showed him. He and Monica had ridden one day across a wild sweep of trackless moorland, when they came in sight of a picturesque CONRAD FirZ3ERALD. 65 Elizabethan house, in a decidedly dilapi- dated condition, whose red brick walls and mullioned windows took Eandolph's fancy. He asked who lived there. " No one now," answered Monica, with a touch as of regret in her voice ; " no one has lived there for years and years. Once it was such a bright, happy home — we used to play there so often, Arthur and I, when we were children ; but the master died, the children were taken away, and the house was shut up. That was ten 3^ears ago. I have never been there since." " Who is the owner ? Does he never reside here now ? " " He has never been back I believe he is not rich, and could not keep up the place. He must be about five-and-twenty by this time. He is Sir Conrad Fitzgerald VOL. I. 5 66 MONICA. — lie was such a nice boy when I used to play with him." Eandolph started suddenly ; he con- trolled himself in a moment, but Monica's eyes were very quick, and she had seen the instinctive recoil at the sound of the name. " Do you know Conrad Fitzgerald ? " she asked. " We have met," he answered, somewhat grimly. " I do not claim the honour of his acquaintance." Monica glanced at him. She saw some- thing in the stern lines of Randolph's face that told a tale of its own. She was not afraid to state the conclusion she reached by looking at him. " That means that 3'ou have quarrelled," she said. CONRAD FITZGERALD. 67 " I am not at liberty to explain what it means," was the answer, spoken with a certain stern gravity, not lost upon Monica. She had never seen her companion look like this before. The strength and resolu- tion of his face compelled a sort of involun- tary respect, yet she revolted against hearing the friend and playmate of her childhood tacitly condemned by this stranger. " I do not like innuendoes, Mr. Trevlyn," she said. " If you have anything to say against a man I think it is better spoken out." " I have nothing at all to say upon the subject of Sir Conrad Fitzgerald," he answered, quietly. " Ungenerous ! unmanly ! " was Monica's mental comment. " I cannot bear hearing 5* 68 MONICA. a character hinted away. I loved Conrad once, and he loved me. I do not believe he has done anything for which he should be condemned." Randolph thought little of the few chance words respecting Sir Conrad Fitz- gerald at the time when they were spoken ; but he was destined to think a good deal about that individual before many days had passed. Finding his way to Arthur's room towards dusk one day, as he often did, he was surprised to find quite a little group around the glowing fire. Monica and the dogs were objects sufficiently familiar to him by this time, but who was that graceful, fair-haired youth who sat beside the girl, his face turned towards her and away from Randolph, whilst he made CONRAD FITZGERALD. 69 some gay, laughing rejoinder to her in a very sweet, musical voice ? Eandolph recognised that laugh and that voice with another start of dismay. His face set itself in very stern lines, and he would have withdrawn in silence had he been able to do so unobserved ; but Arthur saw him as he moved to go, and cried gladly : " Oh, here is Eandolph — that is right. Our old friend and our new one must be introduced. Sir Conrad Fitzgerald — Mr. Eandolph Trevlyn." Eandolph's eyes were fixed full upon the face of the younger man as he made the slightest possible inclination of the head. His hand had unconsciously clenched itself in a gesture that was a little significant. Monica's eyes w^ere fixed upon Conrad. 70 MONICA. Was it possible that he quailed and flinched a little beneath the steady gaze bent upon him ? She did not think so, she was sure it could not be ; no, he was only drawing himself up to return that cold salutation with one expressive of sovereign contempt. Not a word was exchanged between the two men. Eandolph sat down beside Arthur, and began to talk to him. Conrad drew nearer to Monica, and entered into a low-toned conversation with her. His voice sounded tender and caressing, and ever and anon such words as these reached young Trevlyn's ears : " Do you remember, Monica ? " — " Ah, those sweet days of childhood ! " — " You have not forgotten ? " — " How often have I thought of it all." Evidently they were discussing the happy CONRAD FITZGERALD. 71 past — tlie bright days that had been shared by them before the cloud had fallen upon Monica's life. Eandolph could not keep his eyes aAvay from her face. It was lit up with a new expression, half sad, and yet strangely — infinitely sweet. Conrad's face was very beautiful too, with its delicate, almost effeminate colouring and serious, melancholy blue eyes. He had been a lovely child, and his beauty had not faded with time. It had stood him in good stead in many crises of his life, and was doing so still. There is an irrational association in most minds between beauty and goodness. But Eandolph's face grew more and more dark as he watched the pair opposite. Old memories were stirring within him, and at last he rose and quitted the room, feeling that he could no longer stand the 72 MONICA. presence of that man within it, could no longer endure to see him bending over Monica, and talking to her in that soft, caressing way. Conrad looked after him, a vindictive light in his soft blue eyes. As the door closed he uttered a low laugh. " What is it ? " asked Arthur. " Oh, nothing. I was only wondering how long he would be able to brazen it out ? " "Brazen what out ? " " Why, sitting there with my eye upon him. Couldn't you see how restless he got?" " Eestless ! " repeated Arthur, quickly. " Why should he be restless ? " Conrad laughed again. "Never mind, my boy. I bear him CONRAD riTZaERALD. 73 no malice. The least said the soonest mended," Monica was silent and a little troubled. She liked to understand things plainly. It seemed to her an unnatural thing for two men to be at almost open feud, yet unwilling to say a word as to the cause of their mutual antagonism. She thought that if they met beneath her father's roof they should be willing to do so as friends. Her gravity did not escape Conrad's notice. " Has he been maligning me already ? " he asked, suddenly, with a subdued flash in his eyes. " No," answered Monica, with a sort of involuntary coldness. " He has no', said a word. I do not think," she added 74 MONICA. presently, with a gentle dignity of manner, " that I should listen very readily from the lips of a stranger to stories detrimental to an old companion and playmate, told behind his back." Conrad gave her a look of humble gratitude. lie would have taken her hand and kissed it had she been anybody else, but somehow, demonstrations of such a kind always seemed impossible where Monica was concerned. Even to him she was decidedly unapproachable. " It is good indeed of you to say so," he said ; " but, Monica — I may call you Monica still, may I not ? as I have always thought of you all these long years — you might hear stories to my detriment that would not be untrue. There have been faults and follies and sins in my past life CONKAD FITZGEEALD. 75 that I would gladly blot out if I could. I have beeu wild and reckless often. I lost my parents very young, as you know, and it is hard for a boy without home and home influences to grow up as he should do.'' Conrad paused, and then added, with a good deal of feeling : " Monica, can a man do more than repent the past ? Can nothing ever wipe away the stain, and give him back his innocence again ? Must he always bear about the shadow of sorrow and shame ? " Monica's face was grave and thought- ful. She shook her head as she replied : " It is no use coming to me with hard questions, Conrad ; I know so little, so very little of the world you live in. Yet it seems to me that it would be hard indeed 76 MONICA. if repentance did not bring forgiveness in its wake." " ' Who with repentance is not satisfied, Is not of heaven nor of earth.' " quoted Arthur, lazily. " Wiiat is it you have done ? Can't you tell us all the story, and let us judge for ourselves — old friends and playmates as we are ? " " I should like to," answered Conrad, gently. " Some day I will ; but do not let us spoil this first meeting with bitter memories. Let it be enough for me to have come home, and have found my friends unchanged towards me. May I venture still to call you my friends ? " " To be sure," cried Arthur, readily ; but Conrad's eyes were fixed on Monica's face ; and she saw it, and looked back CONRAD FITZGERALD. 77 at liini with her steady, inscrutable gaze. " I do not think I change easily," she said, with her gentle dignity of manner. " You were my friend and playmate in our happy childhood. I should like to think of you always as a friend." " Of course," put in Arthur, gaily ; " of course we are all friends, and you must make friends with Eandolph, too. He is such a good fellow." *' I have no objection at all," answered Conrad, with a short laugh. " The difficulty, I imagine, will be on his side. Some men never forget or forgive any one who succeeds in finding them out." " Oh, we will manage Eandolph, never fear. You are ready, then, to make it up if he is ? " 78 MONICA. " Most certainly,'* was the ready answer. " He is the nobler man of the two," said Monica to herself — at least her reason and judgment said so ; her instinct, oddly enough, spoke in exactly opposite words ; but surely it was right to listen first to the voice of reason. " I say, Eandolph," said Arthur, half an hour later, when the young baronet had taken his departure and the other guest had returned to the invalid's room. '' Conrad is quite willing to make it up with you." Eandolph's smile was a little peculiar. " Sir Conrad Fitzgerald is very kind." " Well, you know, it's always best to make friends, isn't it ? Deadly feuds are a nuisance in these days, don't you think so ? " CONRAD FITZGERALD. 79 Eandolpli smiled again ; but his manner was certainly a little badlin^^. " Come now, Eandolpli," persisted Arthur, witli boyisli insistence, " you won't hang back now that he is ready for the recon- ciliation. He is the injured party, is he not?" There was rather a strange light in Ean- dolph's dark blue eyes. His manner was exceedingly quiet, yet he looked as if he could be a little dangerous. " Possibly," was the rather inconclusive answer. " You know he has come to stay some little time in the neighbourhood, and he will often be here. It will be so awkward if you are at daggers drawn all the time." " My dear boy, you need not put your- 80 MONICA. self about. I will take care that there shall be no annoyance to anybody." " You will make friends, then ? " " I will meet Sir Conrad Fitzgerald, whenever he is your father's guest, with the courtesy due from one man to another, w^hen circumstances brinsf them toorether beneath the roof of the same hospitable host. But to take his hand in reconcilia- tion or friendship is a thing that I cannot and Avill not do. Do you understand now ?" Arthur looked at him intently, as for once Monica was doing also. "Eandolph," he said, a little inconse- quently, " do you know I think I could almost be afraid of you sometimes. I never saw you look before as you looked just then." CONRAD FITZaEEALD. 81 The stern lines on Eandolph's face relaxed a little but he still looked grave and pre-occupied, sitting with his elbow on his knee, leaning forward, and pulling his moustache with an abstracted air. " You are rather unforgiving too, I think," pursued the boy. ^'Conrad admitted he had done wrong, but he is very sorry for the past ; and I think it is hard when old offences, repented of, are not consigned to oblivion." Eandolph was silent. " Don' t you agree ? " Still only inpenetrable silence. " Come, Eandolph, don't be so myste- rious and so revenfjeful. Let us have the whole story, and judge for ourselves." " Excuse me, Arthur ; but the life of Sir Conrad Fitzgerald is not one that I choose VOL. I. 6 82 MONICA. to discuss.. His affairs are no concern of mine, nor, if you will pardon my saying so, any concern of yours, either. You are at liberty to renew past friendship with him if it pleases you to do so ; but it is useless to ask me to do the same." And with that Eandolph rose, and quitted the room without another word. " There is something odd about it all," said Arthur, who was inclined to indulge a good deal of curiosity about other people's affairs : " but I think Conrad behaves the better of the two." Monica quietly assented ; but perhaps she might have changed her opinion had she heard the muttered threats breathed by Conrad as he rode across the darkening moor : " So, Eandolph Trevlyn, our paths have CONRAD FITZGERALD. 83 crossed once more ! I have vowed ven- geance upon you to your very face, and perhaps my day has come at last. I see through you. I see the game you are playing. I will baulk you, if I can : but in any case I will have my revenge 6* CHAPTER THE FIFTH. SUNDAY AT TREVLYN. It was Sunday, and Monica, with Eandolph beside her, was making her way by the path along the cUfF towards the little old church perched high upon the crags, between Trevlyn and St. Maws, but nearer to the town than the Castle. Eandolph had found out the ways of the house by this time. He knew now that Monica played the organ in the little church, that she started early and walked across the downs, instead of going in the carriage with her father and aunt. He knew that she generally lunched with the Pendrills between services, SUNDAY AT TREVLYN. 85 and that one of lier cousins walked back witli her to the Castle, and spent an hour with Arthur afterwards. He had found out all this during his first two Sundays, and upon the third he had ventured to ask permission to be her escort. Randolph was quite aware that he had lost ground with Monica of late ; that the barrier, partially broken down during the week of anxiety about Arthur, had risen up again as impenetrably as ever. How far Sir Conrad Fitzgerald's appearance upon the scene was to blame for this he could not tell, nor could Monica herself have explained ; but there was no mistaking the added coldness on her part, and the sense of restraint experienced in his presence. 86 MONICA. And yet he was conscious that his love for her increased every day, and that no coldness on her part checked or dwarfed its growth. He sometimes wondered at himself for the depth and intensity of his passion, for he was a man who had passed almo.