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 LI B RAR.Y 
 
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 ^'
 
 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 VOL. 1.
 
 NEW AND POPULAR NOVELS 
 
 AT ALL THE LIBEAEIES. 
 
 THE MAN SHE CARED FOR. By F. W. Robinson, 
 
 author of ' Grandmother's Money,' ' No Church,' &c. 3 vols. 
 
 WE TWO. By Edna Lyall, author of ' Donovan,' &c. 
 
 3 vols. 
 
 THE PITY OF IT. By Mrs. M. E. Smith, author of 
 
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 DAWN. By H. Rider Haggard. 3 vols. 
 OMNIA VANITAS : A Tale of Society. 1 vol. 
 
 HURST & BLACKETT, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
 
 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE 
 
 EV 
 
 JAMES GRANT 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF WAR," "THE CAMERONIANS,' 
 " THE SCOTTISH CAVALIER," 
 
 ETC. ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1884. 
 
 All rights reserved.
 
 %^3 
 
 THE MISTER OF ABEPtFELWE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 STALKING THE DEER. 
 
 ' I don't know what Olive will think, or 
 how she may view my loitering here, after 
 all these years of absence, instead of has- 
 w tening home to meet her ; but, truth to 
 tell, the temptation to have a shot on the 
 purple heather after sweltering so long in 
 
 India was so great ' 
 
 2" ' What does it matter what she thinks ?' 
 ^ interrupted the elder man, laughing. 
 ^ * When two persons are to spend the whole 
 J term of their natural lives together, they 
 
 YOL. I. B
 
 2 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 can surely spare a few days for pleasure 
 apart !' 
 
 ' But consider, I have not seen my little 
 -fiancee for seven years.' 
 
 * You will find her a pretty tall fiancee 
 now,' replied the other, ' and as handsome 
 as any girl in Scotland, Allan.' 
 
 The speakers were Lord Aberfeldie (he 
 was viscount in the Peerage) and his son 
 Allan, the Master, then at home on leave 
 from the Black Watch, in which he was a 
 captain ; and now, side by side, they were 
 creeping up a steep and stony corrie in 
 search of the red deer, but paused for a 
 few minutes to breathe and converse. 
 
 The Master — so entitled as the son of a 
 Scottish baron (we may add for the in- 
 formation of most English readers even in 
 these days) — was, like his father, a tall 
 and soldier-like fellow, with closely-shorn 
 dark brown hair, straight features, and an 
 almost black moustache, which partly con-
 
 STALKING THE DEER. 6 
 
 cealecl lips that were handsomely curved, 
 and expressive of no small degree of firm- 
 ness and decision. He carried his head 
 erect, and spoke rather with the air of one 
 used to command when addressing men, 
 but with great and subtle softness when 
 conversing with women of every station 
 and degree ; and already, under home 
 influences, his dark hazel eyes were losing 
 the keen and somewhat hawk-like expres- 
 sion they had worn when daily facing 
 death and suffering on active service. 
 
 Both father and son were handsome, 
 though there were nearly thirty years 
 between them in age, and both were, from 
 head to foot, unmistakably thorough-bred 
 men — the latter tanned deeply by a tropical 
 sun, and his forehead scarred by a wound 
 from a tulwar blade. 
 
 Lord Aberfeldie, now above fifty, had 
 taken a turn of service for a few years in 
 the Black Watch till his succession to the 
 
 b2
 
 4 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 title required liis presence at home, though 
 an enthusiastic soldier ; and soon af tet* his 
 place in the regiment which he loved so 
 well was taken by his only son and heir, 
 the Master, then fresh from college. 
 
 Father and son both wore plain shoot- 
 ing-kilts and jackets of coarse heather- 
 coloured stuff, with handsomely-mounted 
 sporans and skeins ; other ornaments they 
 had none, unless we except the crest of 
 Graham — their surname — an eagle talon- 
 ing a stork, in their glengarries ; and the 
 peer, who was a keen fisherman, had his 
 head-dress further garnished by various 
 flies and old fish-hooks. 
 
 When en route home to the family seat 
 at Dundargue, in the Carse of Gowrie, the 
 Master had been tempted by his father to 
 join him at their shooting-box among the 
 lovely Perthshire hills, where, at present, 
 the party consisted of only four — Mr. 
 Hawke Holcroft, an English guest, and
 
 STALKING THE DEER. O 
 
 Evan Cameron, a sub. of the Black Watch, 
 also on leave; and these two, attended by 
 a keeper and gillies, were creeping up 
 another corrie, rifle in hand, about half a 
 mile distant. 
 
 'You have had this — a — Mr. Holcroft 
 with you for some time at Dundargue V 
 said Allan Graham, questioningly. 
 
 ' Yes — for some weeks — before we came 
 up to the hills here.' 
 
 * He cannot know anything about the 
 implied engagement — that of Olive Ray- 
 mond with me?' 
 
 * Implied ?' 
 
 ' Well — the peculiar arrangements that 
 exist under her father's eccentric 
 will.' 
 
 ' Probably not — nay, undoubtedly not,' 
 replied his father, eyeing him keenly ; ' it 
 is no business of his — so, whence the ques- 
 tion, Allan ?' 
 
 * Because he showed me, rather vaunt-
 
 6 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 ingly, a very fine photo he keeps in his 
 pocket-book.' 
 
 ' A photo of Olive ?' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' The deuce he does. I have thought 
 her sometimes too epris with our horsey 
 friend Hawke Holcroft, and thus longed 
 for your return. They renewed at Dun- 
 dargue, an acquaintance formed last sea- 
 son in London, when Olive made some 
 sensation, I assure you ; and, now that you 
 have seen her photo, what do you think of 
 her — pretty ?' 
 
 'Pretty! She is downright beauti^ 
 ful!' 
 
 ' Ah — wait till you have seen her. She 
 does credit to your mother's rearing and 
 her governess's tutelage ; but you have 
 not exhibited much impatience hitherto. 
 Gad, when I was your age ' 
 
 ' You forget that she was such a child 
 when we parted,' interrupted Allan, strok-
 
 STALKI>s'G THE DEER. * / 
 
 ing out his long dark moustache. ' But 
 Avas it not rather cool of him to show me 
 her likeness ?' 
 
 ' Perhaps ; but then it was done in ig- 
 norance of the situation, and it is pro- 
 bably the result of some conservatory 
 flirtation.' 
 
 ' But just as he showed it to me, was it 
 not strange that I heard the cry of a 
 plover overhead, and ' 
 
 Lord Aberfeldie interrupted his son by a 
 hearty laugh, and tossed away the end of 
 his cigar. 
 
 ' After eight years' soldiering with the 
 Black Watch, do you actually retain the 
 superstition that the plover is a type of 
 inconstancy, and the bird of ill-omen 
 Burns, Scott, and Leyden describe it as 
 being ?' 
 
 Allan laughed, too ; but now, when 
 among his native mountains and the 
 scenes of his childhood, he could not help
 
 8. THE MASTEE OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 old Scottish impressions returning to him, 
 though certainly the ranks of his regiment 
 were the last place in which he was 
 likely to forget them. 
 
 The silver-haired and silver-bearded old 
 game-keeper, Dugald Glas (whose real 
 name was Mackinnon), a hawk-eyed Celt, 
 with a weather-beaten visage, and bare 
 knees that were brown as mahogany, now 
 urged silence and no more smoking. He 
 had discovered by the aid of his binocu- 
 lars a couple of deer grazing, but pretty 
 far apart, upon the hill-side ; and once 
 again by private signal the two parties 
 began mutually their stealthy approach 
 upward in the two corries that concealed 
 them in the forest^ for so it was called, 
 though destitute now of trees. 
 
 *A forest, as the word was strictly 
 taken in ancient times/ says Sir Thomas 
 Dick Lauder, * could not be in the hands 
 of anyone but the king, yet in later periods
 
 STALKING THE DEER. \) 
 
 forests have become the property of 
 subjects, or have been erected by thein, 
 though without being protected by forest 
 laws. The royal forest in the Isle of 
 Wight, in which there is not a single 
 tree, is not the only English example re- 
 maining of the view taken of this old 
 meaning of the word.' Hence, he adds, 
 ' Let not the Cockney suppose that the 
 word forest necessarily implies a district 
 covered with oaks, chestnuts, or trees of 
 any other description.' 
 
 A powerful and gigantic staghound, 
 wiry, sinewy, and iron-grey — the noble 
 dog that Landseer loved to depict — saw 
 the deer already without the aid of glasses 
 and strained hard upon his leash, an iron 
 chain, which was twisted round the mus- 
 cular wrist of the old keeper, who soothed 
 and patted him, while muttering in Gaelic, 
 ' Mar e Bran, is e hraithair /' (If it is not 
 Bran, it is his brother), alluding to Fingal's
 
 10 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIE. 
 
 favourite staghound, which he was thought 
 to resemble, as his hair was iron-grey, his 
 feet were yellow, with erect ears of a 
 ruddy tinge. 
 
 The forenoon was brilliantly clear, so 
 the deer-stalkers had not the weather to 
 contend with, as that, if untoward, may 
 render all strategy vain. 
 
 Lord Aberfeldie and his son were as 
 well aware as their skilled old keeper that 
 in stalking the chief things to regard are 
 the eyes and nose of the deer. His vision, 
 quick as that of an eagle, can detect a 
 human head above a ridge of rock or belt 
 of bracken, and he can scent an intruder 
 on his ' native heath,' if the breeze blows 
 from the former, at a wonderful distance ; 
 and old Dugald Glas, who had brought the 
 father and son to the forest at dawn with 
 as much care and secresy as if an assassin- 
 ation was in hand, had long scanned the 
 vicinity with his glasses before he discover-
 
 STALKING THE DEEE. ] 1 
 
 ed the stags in qiiestioD, and gave the 
 concealed stalkers the signal to approach 
 them. 
 
 The two animals were rather far apart • 
 both were quietly feeding, and — as the 
 season was considerably advanced — both 
 in colour were marvellously like the grey 
 stone and brown heather around them, 
 and both were, as yet, all unalarmed as 
 Lord Aberfeldie, the Master, and Dugald 
 Glas, while pausing and holding ever and 
 anon a council of war in low whispers, 
 crept up the stony corrie, keeping carefully 
 to leeward of the quarry they had selected, 
 leaving Cameron of Stratherroch and 
 Hawke Holcroft to approach the other as 
 best they might ; but it was in the present 
 instance absolutely necessary that both 
 parties should fire at the same instant, or 
 one of the stags would vanish at a gallop, 
 perhaps to the most distant limit of the 
 forest.
 
 12 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 In crawling after such game the bead 
 must be foremost when going up a hill, 
 and the feet foremost when going down, 
 and the stalker must creep on his stomach 
 and knees ; and all this, when done in the 
 kilt, over rough rocks, sharply-pointed 
 heather, and mossy bog, is not to be 
 effected without considerable toil and even 
 discomfort. 
 
 Nearly an hour of this kind of work had 
 gone on, the father and son creeping side 
 by side, softly and in silence, dragging 
 their rifles after them, old Dagald follow- 
 ing in the same fashion, with Bran strain- 
 ing on his iron chain ; and once or twice 
 they had actually to traverse the bed of a 
 mountain burn that brawled hoarselj^ 
 downward over its brown-worn pebbles 
 and boulders. 
 
 The stag was still feeding quietly, and 
 all unconscious of the approach of death ; 
 and the stalkers were, they thought, within
 
 STALKING THE DEER. 13 
 
 a safe distance now, and that ifc could not 
 escape them ; so Dugald Glas dropped be- 
 hind, after whispering to the Master in 
 Gaelic, 
 
 ' Blood upon the skein, Allan !' 
 
 Then the heart of the latter began to 
 beat highly as the moment for shooting 
 drew near, for after all their care and toil 
 it was quite possible that a grouse might 
 whirr up from the heather, and with a 
 warning cry scare the stag to full speed. 
 
 * You take aim, Allan,' whispered Lord 
 Aberfeldie, ' and I shall reserve my fire. 
 It is years since you had a shot at a dun 
 cow, my boy.' 
 
 Inch by inch the Master cautiously in- 
 serted his double-barrelled rifle between 
 the stiff tufts of purple heather that fringed 
 the bank of the hollow up which they had 
 been creeping, and brought the sights to 
 bear upon the beautiful and graceful ani- 
 mal that cropped the herbage, with hi3
 
 14 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 brandling antlers lowered ; and Allan, in 
 the excitement of the moment, felt his 
 pulses beating wildly. 
 
 ' If I miss — if I fail !' he muttered. 
 
 ' Tut — there is no such word as fail T 
 replied his father, unconsciously quoting 
 ^ Richelieu/ 
 
 Allan drew a long breath, while his dark 
 eye seemed to flash along the barrel, and 
 fired. Bang went a couple of rifles in the 
 distant corrie, but Aberfeldie and his son 
 took no heed of them. The latter's single 
 shot had sped true, piercing the stag above 
 the left eye. and now it lay prone on the 
 heather, tearing up tufts and sandy earth 
 with its hoofs in the agonies of death. 
 
 Allan's skein-dhu was promptly in his 
 hand ; the stag was gralloched, and Dugald 
 Glas, waving his bonnet, shouted loudly 
 for Alister Bane and Hector Crubach (or 
 lame Hector), two gillies, to bring up the 
 pony, on which the dead animal was slung,
 
 STALKING THE DEER. 15 
 
 and then the party set out for the place 
 appointed for lunclieon, as mid-day was 
 now lonor since past. 
 
 'AVhat the deuce are Stratlierroch and 
 Holcrof t about ?' exclaimed Lord Aberfel- 
 die, while shading his eyes with his hand ; 
 and to their success in sport we shall refer 
 in the next chapter.
 
 16 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HAWKE HOLCROFT. 
 
 The process of creepiDOf in serpent fashion 
 over sbarp.pointed heather, rough stones^ 
 and occasionally in the bed of a mountain 
 stream, as we have already described, 
 proved intensely tiresome and distasteful 
 to a ^ man about town ' like Mr. Hawke 
 Holcroft, who could not entirely conceal 
 his genuine disgust thereat, and at the 
 slowness of the whole affair, though re- 
 minded by Dugald's son Angus, a smart 
 young under-keeper, of the big hart of 
 Benmore, which was stalked • for seven 
 long summer days before it was killed.
 
 HAWKE HOLCROFT. 17 
 
 * But, for the Lord's sake, sir, keep quiet,' 
 whispered Angus. ' We are now close on 
 one of the finest of Macgilony's dun cows.' 
 
 ' I see no dun cow !' grumbled Holcroft. 
 
 ' He means yonder deer,' whispered 
 Cameron, a fair-haired and pleasant-look- 
 ing fellow. ' Macgilony was a famous 
 hunter in the olden time, and his dun 
 cows, as he called them, were the red 
 deer of the Grampians.' 
 
 But to Holcroft, whose idea of hunting 
 the stag was to have a scared and be- 
 wildered creature — a fallow deer, fed on 
 oats and hay, perhaps — cast loose from a 
 game-cart in a smooth, grassy park, the 
 perseverance, courage, and labour required 
 for stalking in the Highlands seemed a 
 simple waste of time and an inconceivable 
 bore. 
 
 ' Stop for a minute,' whispered Angus, 
 as they crept ujo the loind ; ' the stag can 
 smell with more than its nostrils.' 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 18 THE MASTER OF ^BERFELDIE. 
 
 As the stoppage took place directly in 
 the bed of a brawling burn, where they all 
 lay on their stomachs, Holcroft not un- 
 naturally asked, with no small irritation, 
 what he meant ; and the wiry young High- 
 lander, who was whiskered and moustached 
 to such an extent that, with his shaggy 
 eyebrows, he somewhat resembled a Skye 
 terrier in visage, explained his theory — no 
 uncommon one, though, of course, not 
 admitted by naturalists — that the red deer 
 can both smell and breathe through the 
 curious aperture beneath each eye, even 
 if their heads are immersed in water 
 when in the act of drinking. 
 
 ' Dioul !' muttered Angus, as they crept 
 forward again, but on dry heather this 
 time, ' we can't be too cautious, whateffer ! 
 A deer's eye is as keen as an eagle's, and 
 his nose acute as that of a foumart.' 
 
 ' The first shot shall be yours, Holcroft,' 
 said Cameron. ' I shall reserve my fire.
 
 HAWKE HOLCROFT. 19 
 
 He seems a powerful animal, and, if yon 
 onl}^ wound him, we may have the devil 
 to pay !' 
 
 * Thanks — but how ?' w^hispered Hol- 
 croft. 
 
 ' If the dogs bring him to bay, he may 
 turn upon us ere another cartridge can be 
 dropped in the barrel, and gore deep with 
 his horns/ 
 
 English sportsmen generally prefer hav- 
 ing the deer driven to stalking them, for the 
 bodily exertion requisite in the latter case 
 tries so severely every muscle and sinew ; 
 but, to the true Highland hunter, one deer 
 shot after a long and adventurous stalk, is 
 worth a hundred knocked over after a 
 successful drive by gillies, when the herd 
 is urged in wild confusion through some 
 narrow pass well garrisoned by breech- 
 loaders in secure ambush. 
 
 While Holcroft and Cameron crept soft- 
 ly forward nearer the browsing deer, the 
 
 c2
 
 20 THE MASTER OV ABERFELDIE. 
 
 youDg keeper threw his plaid over the eyes 
 of the staghound Shiuloch, and held it in 
 by main strength, though his wrist was 
 nearly dislocated by the strain of the leash, 
 and the ill-suppressed whimpers of the 
 animal were lost amid its muffling. 
 
 ' Now,' whispered Angus, hoarsely, full 
 of excitement — ^ now is your time, sir !' 
 
 Holcroft took a long aim ; in his intense 
 anxiety, and perhaps inspired by vanity, 
 he overdid his aim ; he fired at the precise 
 moment Allan's shot was heard in the 
 distant corrie, but only wounded the stag 
 in the shoulder, and, just as he let fly the 
 contents of the other barrel (and missed), 
 it fled away with the speed of the wind, 
 followed by the swift and powerful hound, 
 which, quick as thought, Angus let slip, 
 and both vanished down a deep glen, over- 
 hung by silver birches, close by. 
 
 * Ohone a Dhia ! but he has missed it, 
 after all — it is no use guiding a Sassenach
 
 HAWKE HOLCROFT. 21 
 
 whatever 1' muttered Angus, under bis 
 thick, ruddy moustache ; yet, as Cameron 
 could read by the expression that twin- 
 kled in his hazel eyes, secretly not ill- 
 pleased at the result, however. 
 
 ' I almost did it — hit him, at all events !' 
 said Holcroft, with intense mortification, 
 as he was too much of an Englishman not 
 to wish to excel in everything that apper- 
 tained to sport. 
 
 ' Almost !' repeated Angus, who added 
 to Cameron, in a low voice, " Cha d'rinse 
 theob riomh secdg P {i.e.. Almost, never 
 killed the game). 
 
 ' Better luck next time,' said the young 
 Laird of Stratherroch, consolingly. ' Allan 
 has knocked over his deer, I see.' 
 
 ' Attempt and Did-not were the two 
 worst hounds- of Fingal,' muttered Angus, 
 in his Perthshire Gaelic, with a furtive 
 glance, fall of meaning, at Stratherroch. 
 
 * To the genuine Highlander,' says a
 
 22 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIE. 
 
 recent EDglisli writer, 'it is a fixed article 
 of belief that there never yet was a Sassen- 
 ach who knew more about the wind and 
 weather, or about the innumerable other 
 mysteries which furnish the stalker with 
 the tact and skill required to perfect him 
 in his difficult craft, than a cow under- 
 stands of conic sections. With true Celtic 
 caution and prudence, the gillies tolerate 
 the opulent tenant from the south out of 
 respect for his cheque-book and his fre- 
 quent drafts upon it ; but in their hearts 
 they look upon him as an intruder, and are 
 not sorry when they contemplate his re- 
 ceding form, as he turns his face home- 
 wards, and leaves moor, loch, and mountain, 
 glen and forest to' their natural denizens.' 
 
 And in this spirit Angus was secretly 
 regarding the unconscious Mr. Holcroft, 
 who had the srenuine Southern idea that 
 no man of • woman born could undervalue 
 him.
 
 HAWKE HOLCEOFT. 23 
 
 So the little sliootiDg-partj united now, 
 and, not unwillingly, all sat down to have 
 luncheon, as they were sharply appetised 
 by long exercise in the keen mountain air, 
 and on no other tablecloth than the purple 
 heather ; the ample contents of a hamper 
 — game pies, cold beef, bread, champagne 
 (cooled in an adjacent runnel), whisky, 
 and so forth — were laid out by the active 
 hands of the gillies, expectant of their 
 own repast when the time came. 
 
 They lunched near the mossy ruins of a 
 clachan — some of those melancholy ruins 
 so common over all the Highlands, the 
 traces of a departed people who have 
 passed away to other lands, evicted by 
 grasping selfishness to make way for 
 grouse and deer. 
 
 There, the low, shattered gables, an old 
 well, some gooseberry bushes that marked 
 * where a garden had been,' were all that 
 remained of a once populous village,
 
 24 THE MASTEli OF ABEEFELDIE. 
 
 whose men had often gone forth to fight 
 for Scotland in the wars of old, and whose 
 descendants in latter years had manned 
 more than one company of the Black 
 Watch in Egypt and the Peninsula. 
 
 On the sunny hill-slope close by, a ruined 
 wall, low and circular — above which appear- 
 ed the grey arms of a solitary Celtic cross, 
 an aged yew-tree, and where long grass 
 waved in the wind — marked where lay the 
 last of the clan, whom no human power 
 could evict or send towards the setting 
 sun ; and these imparted a melancholy to 
 the solemn scenery, for solemn it was with 
 all its beauty. 
 
 It was of that kind peculiar to some 
 parts of Perthshire, where the subordinate 
 hills, rising a thousand Feet and more 
 above the valley, are entirely covered with 
 dusky pines, taking away all that appear- 
 ance of blackness and desolation present- 
 ed by naked mountain masses, and adding
 
 HAWKE HOLCROFT. 25 
 
 softness and beauty to the landscape, which 
 would otherwise be stern and grim. Nor 
 were the glassy loch and the murmuring 
 torrent wanting there, nor those passes 
 where the mountains approach each other, 
 and make them, like that of Killiecrankie, 
 excel even the famous Vale of Tempe. 
 
 Though not very impressionable by Na- 
 ture, Holcroft, influenced by the good 
 things he was imbibing, said something 
 about the beauty of the scenerj^, to which 
 Lord Aberfeldie responded, adding, with a 
 laugh, 
 
 * I do enjoy life in a shooting-box, and 
 of all the entrancing sports to me there is 
 none like stalking the deer.' 
 
 With his sodden knickerbocker suit dry- 
 ing slowly upon him in the mountain 
 wind, Holcroft could only assent to this 
 faintly, and wished, perhaps, that, like 
 Stratherroch, he wore a kilt, and could 
 wring the water out of the plaits thereof.
 
 26 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIE, 
 
 ' Of old in Scotland/ resumed Lord 
 Aberfeldie, as he lit his briar-root pipe, 
 'no man was deemed perfect in the craft 
 of hunting till he had landed a salmon 
 from the pool, shot an eagle on the wing, 
 and killed a stag. But, when here in a 
 shooting-box, I always thank heaven that 
 I am at least fifteen miles from a telegraph 
 wire, that letters can only come once a 
 day, and just before dinner, and bills and 
 lawyers' letters seldom or never at all. 
 Have a glass of something before you 
 lunch, Dugald,' he said, addressing his 
 venerable keeper ; ^ I know you will prefer 
 Glenlivet to all the Clicquot and Moet in 
 the world.' 
 
 'A cless, thank you kindly, my lord,' 
 replied Dugald, touching his bonnet, 
 * though my mouth can hold more of what- 
 ever it be.' 
 
 And, bowing to the company, Dugald 
 drained it in quick time.
 
 HAWKE HOLCEOFT. 27 
 
 ^ I daresay, Holcrof t,' said Allan, ' you 
 would prefer the deer driven to being 
 stalked ?' 
 
 ' Infinitely !' replied the other, as he 
 quaffed a bumper of sparkling Moselle. 
 
 'Well, I for one do not,' said the Master, 
 emphatically. 
 
 ' The Highlander of old would follow a 
 stag for days, or even for weeks, if neces- 
 sary.' observed Lord Aberfeldie, with 
 kindling eyes, ' sleeping in his plaid among 
 the heather, he would lie where nig^ht 
 found him. With his long gaff he would 
 catch a salmon between the water and the 
 sky ; but w^hen stalking he had no concep- 
 tion of the brutal German battues now so 
 common in the Highlands, and so degrad- 
 ing to sport,' he added ; in his energy, for- 
 getting that there was something of re- 
 buke in his remarks, w^hich certainly made 
 Holcroft's cheek redden with annoyance^ 
 and his rather shifty eyes to lower.
 
 28 THE MASTER OF ABEREELDIE. 
 
 The Master, aware tlaat this subject was 
 rather a hobby with his father, hastened 
 to change the conversation by observing, 
 
 ' How strange it seems, Stratherroch, 
 that you and I should be so suddenly liere 
 after all these past years with the regi- 
 ment — liere among the purple heather and 
 green bracken again.' 
 
 ' And a few weeks hence will see us 
 with it again, and back to the old pipe- 
 clay routine/ said Cameron. 
 
 'Regiments are now no longer what 
 they were in my time,' said Lord Aber- 
 feldie, a little irrelevantly, perhaps, but 
 pursuing his own ideas. ' Examinations, 
 cramming and useless pedantry, promotion 
 by selection and compulsory retirement 
 for the officers, with short service among 
 tlie men, render corps no longer what they 
 were in the old days, each a happy, mov- 
 able home. The time when a young 
 officer often said, with just pride and
 
 HAWKE HOLCROFT. 29 
 
 noble ambition, "My father and my grand- 
 father have both commanded this regiment, 
 and, please God, I hope at some period to 
 do the same," can never come again ! And 
 what Highland officer now, in the Black 
 Watch or any other of our national regi- 
 ments, is followed to the colours by a band 
 of his own name and kindred, or can 
 speak of his comrades as "my father's 
 people/' or " the men from our glen ;" 
 and yet such was the case when yonder 
 ruined clachan was instinct with village 
 life, and the voices of children were heard 
 around its humble hearths.' 
 
 ' The hero of Ghuznee had a theory that 
 no Scotsman was fitted to command a 
 regiment,' said Stratherroch, laughing. 
 
 ' I know that he detested Scotsmen, and 
 brought six officers, all Scotsmen, to a 
 court-martial ; and it was then he is said 
 to have made the statement which cost 
 him so dear in India.'
 
 30 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 ' How ?' asked Holcroft. 
 
 'Because, within an hour after, old 
 Colonel Wemyss, of the 52nd, paraded 
 him in rear of the cantonment, and planted 
 a bullet in his body by way of curing him 
 of prejudice for the future. Eather a 
 convincing argument, old Wemyss thought 
 it,' added Aberfeldie, laughing, as he knock- 
 ed the ashes from his cherished briar-root, 
 put it in its case, and dropped it into his 
 silver-mounted sporran. 
 
 ' Talking of regiments, I saw yours at 
 Portsmouth, Graham,' said Holcroft ; ' and 
 I thought the men looked graceful indeed, 
 with their kilts over their left shoulders 
 and their black sporrans waving above 
 their bronzed faces.' 
 
 Whether this was meant as a joke or a 
 sneer, it is impossible to say ; but his 
 hearers took it as the former, and laughed 
 accordingly, on which Holcroft added, 
 
 'I mean their plaid-shawls over their
 
 HAWKE HOLCROFT. 31 
 
 shoulders. I remember that Miss Ray- 
 mond laughed heartily when I made the 
 same remark/ 
 
 ' I don't wonder at that/ said Lord Aber- 
 feldie. ' Olive is a girl who laughs on 
 very slight occasions.' 
 
 ' You have not seen her since your re- 
 turn y said Holcroft to Allan Graham. 
 
 ' No ; but I shall very soon now.' 
 
 * She is a very handsome girl ; what the 
 deuce have the men been about to leave 
 her all this time Miss Eaymond ?' 
 
 ' All this time ? Why, she has not yet 
 seen her twentieth year,' exclaimed Allan, 
 with some annoyance, as he thought of the 
 photo. 
 
 * Her costumes are chic,' continued Hol- 
 croft, ' chic to a degree ! How I admired 
 her 23ortrait in the Grosvenor Gallery ; and 
 wise was the artist to label it "Fair to 
 See."' 
 
 Allan glanced at his father, and his face
 
 32 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 clouded to liear all this — praise though it 
 was — in the mouth of Hawke Holcroft. 
 
 ^You have an appreciation of beauty, 
 apparently,' said young Cameron. 
 
 ' Who has not ? Thus, as Disraeli says, 
 " the action of lovely woman on our 
 destiny is increasing," and, as Miss Ray- 
 mond ' 
 
 ' I am Miss Raymond's uncle and guar- 
 dian,' said Lord Aberfeldie, rather stiffly, 
 and to Mr. Holcroft, as it seemed, a little 
 irrelevantly, though cutting short what- 
 ever he meant to say ; for the peer winced 
 at the way in which his guest referred to 
 his niece in the hearing of gillies and 
 gamekeepers, and, more than all, in the 
 presence of Allan, whose dark eyes wore 
 rather a lowering expression ; but, as all 
 had hearty appetites after their recent 
 exercise and long exposure in the keen, 
 bracing mountain air of an autumn day, 
 they were inclined to use their knives and
 
 HAWKE HOLCROFT. 33 
 
 forks rather than their tongues, and the 
 subject, however pleasing to Mr. Holcroft, 
 was dropped. 
 
 The latter was not a pleasing type of 
 Englishman, though his air and bearing- 
 were thoroughly those of a gentleman. 
 He had a good square figure, but his legs 
 were somewhat of the spindle order, as 
 his knickerbocker suit revealed. He was 
 flaxen-haired, fair-skinned, and somewhat 
 freckled, with a tawny moustache and 
 pale grey eyes ; and strange it was that 
 these, though weak-looking, cunning, and 
 shifty, would assume at times, but covert- 
 ly, a defiant, even ferocious expression, if 
 evil passions excited him. 
 
 He was almost destitute of eyebrows, 
 but had a massive chin ; and as Allan Gra- 
 ham regarded him, as he lay stretched 
 upon the grass leisurely smoking, he by no 
 means showed his father's sentiment of 
 friendship for this son of an old friend ; 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 and there grew in his breast a mysterious 
 instinct — almost a presentiment — that 
 Holcroft would in some way or other bring 
 trouble upon them conjunctly or severally. 
 
 After the keepers and gillies had their 
 repast, the luncheon apparatus was pack- 
 ed up, and, shouldering their rifles, the 
 party set out for the shooting-box, which 
 was situated in a pretty glen a few miles 
 distant. 
 
 Angus, who was — as his father boasted 
 — strong as Cuchullin, again lifted the 
 deer to the pony's back, and preceded by 
 the family piper, Ronald Gair, with his 
 pipes in full blast to the air of ' The 
 Birks of Aberfeldie/ they departed down 
 the winding path towards the dark blue 
 loch that lay at the foot of the solemn, 
 pine-clad hills. 
 
 Like the gillies and keepers, Ronald 
 was never seen without a sprig of the 
 Buaidh craoh na Laihhreis (the laurel-tree
 
 HAWKE HOLCROFT. 35 
 
 of victory), the badge of the Grahams, in 
 his bonnet. 
 
 Ronald Gair's locks were silver now, 
 but they had been dark enough when he 
 played the Black Watch up the green slopes 
 of the Alma, through all Central India, to 
 the gates of Lucknow, and in later times 
 to the corpse-encumbered swamps of 
 Coomassie. 
 
 Holcroft winced at what he deemed the 
 dissonance of the pipes, and cursed their 
 sound in his heart ; but he was too well- 
 bred or too prudent to say anything on 
 the subject as he strode by Cameron's 
 side down the strath, with a huge regalia 
 between his teeth. Indeed, he might have 
 been pretty well used to their sound by 
 this time, as Ronald Gair roused the house- 
 hold with them in the morning, preceded 
 many a meal — dinner always — and seemed 
 to spend most of his time in incessant 
 ' tuning up ' between. 
 
 d2
 
 36 THE MASTER OE ABERFELDIE. 
 
 ^ I have a suspicion that lie is bad form,, 
 this Holcroft,' said Allan to his father, as 
 they could converse, unheard by the other 
 two, amid the din of the pipes, which Ronald 
 blew as if to wake the Seven Sleepers of 
 Ephesus, or Holgar Danske in his cavern 
 at Elsinore. * I have heard that he half 
 lives on play and his betting-book, and that 
 his little place in Essex, or rather what 
 remains of it, is dipped over head and ears. 
 Indeed, he admitted jocularly to Cameron 
 that it was mortgaged for thrice its value, 
 three times over, a fact which would 
 teach the holders prudence for the future. 
 Why did you have him here or at Dun- 
 d argue ?' 
 
 * Well — his father and I were old 
 friends, as you know ; his father, in fact, 
 by an act of great bravery, saved my life 
 at the Alma, when three Russians were at 
 the point of bayoneting me, as I lay help- 
 less on the field ; so you see, Allan, I can-
 
 HAWKE HOLCROFT. 37 
 
 not help being at least hospitable to the 
 poor fellow, and certainly his friend.' 
 
 Indeed, Lord Aberfeldie had always been 
 the latter to Holcroft, and not seldom his 
 * banker / but of this Allan knew nothing, 
 nor was ever likely to know, so far as his 
 father was concerned. 
 
 ' He seems to consider Olive an heiress,' 
 said Allan, after a pause. 
 
 ' As — of course — she is.' 
 
 * And he dared to speak of her under 
 the slangy name of " cash " to Stratherroch, 
 as I, by chance, overheard.' 
 
 Lord Aberfeldie knitted his dark brows, 
 and said, 
 
 ' I detest slang — it is deuced bad form ; 
 but Holcroft belongs, I know, to a horsey 
 set; 
 
 The sun was setting now, and gradually 
 his crimson glory was paling in fire on the 
 hill tops, till it faded out and died away, 
 and the shadows of the September night
 
 38 THE MASTEE OF ABEEFELDIE. 
 
 crept upward step by step from the 
 deep glens below, and one by one the stars 
 came out above the trees — a sea of dark 
 and solemn pines that covered all the 
 mountain slopes — and ere long the red 
 lights from the curtained windows of the 
 luxurious shooting-lodge were seen to cast 
 long lines of wavering radiance across the 
 bosom of the loch, by the margin of which 
 it stood. 
 
 Ere this, the great greyhound Shiuloch 
 (whose name means speed) had returned, 
 drenched with water (showing that he had 
 pursued the stag into some distant loch) 
 and bloody with more than one wound in- 
 flicted by antlers. 
 
 The sharp-set hunters had dined luxuri- 
 ously, and cigars with brandy and soda 
 had become the order of the night, when 
 the Master said to his father, 
 
 ' I think I have had enough of deer- 
 stalking — three weeks nearly — and to-
 
 HAWKE HOLCROFT. 39 
 
 morrow I shall start for Dunclargue/ 
 
 ' I think you are wise to do so,' replied 
 Lord Aberfeldie, with a pointed glance. 
 
 ' Sorry to lose you, Graham,' said Hol- 
 croft, concealing under a bright smile his 
 secret annoyance, envy, and alarm, of all 
 which more anon. 
 
 In this sudden resolution Allan Graham 
 was influenced, perhaps, by some remarks 
 of his father, the viscount, and pique at 
 those of Hawke Holcroft, together with a 
 natural longing to see his mother and 
 sister, and a growing consciousness that he 
 had been somewhat remiss and, to say the 
 least of it, ungallant to his cousin. Thus, 
 next day, he took his departure for Dun- 
 dargue ; but he could little foresee all the 
 bitter complications that were to arise, and 
 to culminate in the future, through his 
 merely lingering to stalk deer in his father's 
 forest. 
 
 When he went off, none shook his hand
 
 40 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 more warmly than Hawke Holcroft, thougli 
 tlie latter muttered under his breath, 
 
 'Fool that I was, not to make my 
 innings before this fellow came ; but if 
 some people could be put out of the way, 
 that others might take their place, how 
 much pleasanter this world would be — to 
 other people, at least.' 
 
 Little did the family of Aberfeldie know 
 that in Hawke Holcroft they had among 
 them an unscrupulous adventurer and most 
 dangerous guest !
 
 41 
 
 . CHAPTER III. 
 
 UNCLE EAYMONd's WILL. 
 
 ^ Marriage, indeed !' exclaimed Olive Ray- 
 mond, 'it will be time enough to speak of 
 that when this 'haggard in love," your 
 brother, turns up here at Dundargue. Be- 
 sides, all women don't marry, so why 
 should I ?' 
 
 *Most pretty ones do, and marry you 
 must !' replied, with a merry little laugh, 
 Eveline Graham, the sole daughter of the 
 house of Aberfeldie, to her English cousin, 
 as she usually called her. 
 
 ' Such stuff all this is ! Does not the 
 author of "The Red Rag" say that ''if
 
 42 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 there is a circumstance calculated to breed 
 mutual detestation in the minds of two 
 young people, it is the knowledge that 
 their respective parents have destined them 
 for each other !" ' 
 
 ' How readily you quote,' said Eveline. 
 
 ' Because I have the subject at heart/ 
 
 They were posed like a couple of Du 
 Manner's fashionable girls, and were 
 leisurely sipping afternoon tea at a pretty 
 Chippendale table from an exquisite 
 "Wedgwood service, and, for freedom to 
 gossip, had dispensed with all attendance. 
 
 Both the cousins were handsome girls, 
 whose bearded, belted, and corsletted an- 
 cestors — portraits of whom hung on the 
 walls, and who had often 
 
 * Carved at the meal with gloves of steel,' 
 in that same Castle of Dundargue — would 
 have regarded such a repast and such a 
 beverage as ' afternoon tea ' with no small 
 wonder, and, perhaps, disgust.
 
 UNCLE EAYMONd's WILL. 43 
 
 Eveline Graham was very softly featur- 
 ed and slender in figure ; but Olive Eay- 
 mond, who was the taller of the two, was 
 more fully developed, yet looked slim as a 
 Greek goddess in a dress of deep blue that 
 became her pure complexion and rich 
 brown hair, with only a tiny bouquet of 
 white flowers in the brooch at her bosom, 
 and a multitude of silver bangles — emblems 
 of conquest, perhaps — like silver fetters, 
 on her slender and snowy wrists. She 
 was fair and colourless, with dark grey 
 violet eyes that looked black under their 
 jetty fringes at night. 
 
 Eveline was more dazzlingly fair, but 
 more loetite^ with soft, hazel eyes, and 
 bright, brown hair that was shot with 
 gold. She had exquisite hands and feet, 
 and though petite, as we say, and slender, 
 she had a peculiar grace and dignity of 
 manner that only required a brocade-dress, 
 ruff, and lonsf stomacher to make her like
 
 44 THE MASTEE OF ABERPELDIE. 
 
 one of Iier stately 'forbears,' wTiose por- 
 traits by Jameson were in the room in 
 which she sat — a modern portion of the 
 grim old Castle of Dundargue, the aspect 
 and construction of which edifice were 
 very different from those of the additions 
 that had been made to it in later times. 
 
 And as the girls sit there, in the tem- 
 pered light of the afternoon sun streaming 
 through the French windows that open to 
 a stately balustraded terrace, and sip their 
 tea leisurely, their conversation will throw 
 some light upon the past, and perhaps the 
 future, of certain of our dramatis per^sonce. 
 
 ' When Allan returns — ' began Eveline. 
 
 ' Oh, don't talk to me again of Allan !' 
 interrupted Olive Raymond, with a petu- 
 lant toss of her pretty head, ' or I will 
 begin to tease you about Stratherroch.' 
 
 ' How ?' asked Eveline, colouring per- 
 ceptibly. 
 
 * He loves you — and you know he does.*
 
 UNCLE EATMONd's WILL. 45 
 
 * Yes,' said Eveline, as a soffc smile stole 
 over her mignonne face ; ^ I cannot doubt 
 it, though no word from which I could 
 infer it has ever escaped his lips ; but 
 poor Cameron has little more than his paj. 
 His paternal acres are mortgaged to the 
 full — even the shootings and fishings, I 
 believe, don't come to him. I heard 
 papa express to mamma his surprise that 
 Cameron could " pull through,'* as he 
 phrased it ; that he would have no in- 
 eligibles in future dangling about me, 
 and that — as I have nothing — I must 
 marry money! That was the word — oh, 
 how selfish it sounds, and how hateful !' 
 added the girl, while her rosy little nether 
 lip quivered. 'Poor Evan!' she murmur- 
 ed, dreamily; and as she uttered his 
 name her voice, which was soft even as 
 Cordelia's, became like that of Annie 
 Laurie, ' low and sweet.' 
 
 ' Ineligibles !' said her cousin ; ^ and yet
 
 46 THE MASTER OP ABERFELDIB. 
 
 he invited here Mr. Holcroft, who is well- 
 nigh penniless, and against whose atten- 
 tions Aunt Aberfeldie specially warned 
 me.' 
 
 *In the interests of Allan, of course/ 
 
 * Allan — absurd !' exclaimed Olive, shrug- 
 ging her handsome shoulders. * You all 
 seem to forget that he can only remember 
 me as a little girl.' 
 
 ' Still you are his fiancee' 
 
 * In a manner of way.' 
 
 * Distinctly so, if the tenor of your papa's 
 will is to be observed.' 
 
 ' Then I think he might have had some 
 curiosity about me, instead of spending 
 days at that stupid deer-forest. For all 
 he knows, I might have been a veritable 
 fright !' added Olive, with growing pique, 
 as she glanced at the reflection of her own 
 beautiful self in an adjacent console-mirror. 
 ' If he thinks that, as Master of Aber- 
 feldie, he has only to come and see, and
 
 UNCLE EATMONd's WILL. 47 
 
 conquer, I shall teach him that he is very 
 much mistaken.' 
 
 ' Olive — how can you talk thus ?' ex- 
 postulated soft little Eveline ; ' his delay 
 is probably all papa's fault.' 
 
 ' I am sure that I shall hate him then !' 
 
 * Query ?' said Eveline, with a saucy 
 smile on her lovely lips. 
 
 ' There is no query in this case,' per- 
 sisted Olive, as she set down her cup with 
 a jerk ; for in her spirit of freedom there 
 was at times a curious but unexpressed 
 antagonism in her heart to the family of 
 Aberfeldie, as if she felt herself somewhat 
 in their power, and even to her own dis- 
 advantage, and this spirit, which Holcroft 
 was not slow to discover, had rather en- 
 couraged his hopes. 
 
 'He will be sure to love you, at all 
 events, Olive dear, if he has any sense or 
 power of observation at all — you are so 
 pretty« — nay, so charming.'
 
 48 THE MASTER OF ABEREELDIE. 
 
 * Any fool may love a pretty face, and 
 generally does so.' 
 
 * But you possess much more than a 
 pretty face, Olive.' 
 
 ' Yes — the fortune which I am to 
 share with him ere my twenty-fifth year.' 
 
 * Or, if you refuse ' 
 
 ' One half of it goes to him, and the 
 other, or nearly so, to charitable institu- 
 tions,' exclaimed Olive, her sweet face 
 paling with absolute anger. 
 
 ' He will love you for yourself alone, I 
 am assured,' persisted Eveline, in defence 
 of her brother. ' You are beautiful, Cousin 
 Olive; you ride, row, dance, play lawn- 
 tennis, and flirt to perfection. Are not all 
 these qualities calculated to excite admira- 
 tion in a young ofiicer; and then, more 
 than all, you have such dear, funny ways 
 with you.' And the warm-hearted girl con- 
 cluded by laughing and kissing her cousin 
 on both cheeks effusively.
 
 UNCLE Raymond's will. 49 
 
 The tenor of this remarkable will, 
 which has been referred to more than 
 once, was, to say the least of it, peculiar. 
 
 Some years before this period, Olive 
 Raymond arrived at Dundarg'ue an orphan^ 
 left in charge of Lord Aberfeldie — the 
 child of his only sister, Muriel Graham, 
 who had married a Mr. Raymond, a poor 
 man^ whom means furnished by the Aber- 
 feldie family enabled to become one of the 
 wealthiest planters in Jamaica. Both her 
 parents had died early, and after her loca- 
 tion at Dundargue she became a species of 
 sister to Eveline and Allan Graham. 
 
 Happy, indeed, was Olive alike in her 
 Scottish home in the lovely Carse of Gow- 
 rie, and when the family took up their 
 abode, accordino^ to the season or the 
 sitting of Parliament, at their West-end 
 residence in London. 
 
 By will, Mr. Oliver Raymond left his 
 entire fortune, which was very consider- 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 hO THE xMASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 able, to his daughter ; but, in gratitude to 
 the family of his wife, on the strange con- 
 dition that she was to marry his nephew, 
 Allan Graham, whose death alone was to 
 free her from that contingency. If she 
 unreasonably refused, then, in that case, 
 after her twenty-fifth year, she was to for- 
 feit all that would accrue to her, save a 
 very slender allowance — the share so for- 
 feited to become the inheritance of her 
 cousin Allan ; and if he declined to wed his 
 cousin Olive, then, in that case, the money 
 so forfeited was to go to such Scottish 
 charitable institutions as Lord Aberfeldie 
 and the other trustees might select. 
 
 This will was, undoubtedly, a strange 
 one ; but then Mr. Eaymond had been a 
 strange and eccentric man, animated by 
 an intense regard and esteem for the 
 family of his deceased wife, the Grahams 
 of Aberfeldie, to whom he felt all his good 
 fortune had been due.
 
 UNCLE Raymond's will. 51 
 
 As children, the tenor of this tj-rannical 
 •will in no way affected the relations of 
 Olive and Allan with each other ; and the 
 latter — a manly and sturdy lad, when at 
 home from the College of Glenalmond, 
 where he pursued his studies and culti- 
 vated cricket, boxing, and football — petted 
 and made much of the violet-eved and 
 brown-haired little cousin, who had dropped 
 among them as if from the clouds ; but 
 after he had joined the Black TVatch as a 
 subaltern, and years passed on, and they 
 began to be talked of and deemed in the 
 family circle as an engaged couple, be- 
 trothed, affianced, and all the rest of it, 
 the young beauty and heiress began to re- 
 sent the terms of the will bitterly, per- 
 haps not unreasonably ; she became, as we 
 have said, antagonistic, and was perplexed 
 to think that her father could not have 
 foreseen some difficulties on the part of 
 his two legatees. 
 
 e2 

 
 52 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 Thus, as they both grew older, she 
 seldom replied to the letters which Allan 
 wrote to her, by his parents' desire, per- 
 haps, rather than his owd, till he ceased to 
 write to her at all, on which she became 
 severely piqued ; and once when she was 
 a little way on in her ' teens,' and when 
 Allan was at home for a very brief period 
 before departing to India, she treated 
 him with an indifference — almost animosity 
 — that made him deem the girl wayward, 
 cold-hearted, even purse-proud, and every- 
 thing unpleasant ; and with this fatal im- 
 pression he rejoined the Black Watch, and 
 amid many a flirtation might soon have 
 forgotten the heiress that was growing up 
 for him at Dundargue, but for the letters 
 he received from thence, and in which 
 ample references to her and her beauty 
 and accomplishments were never omitted ; 
 while she, on the other hand, when she 
 became of a marriasfeable agfe, seldom
 
 UNCLE EAYMONd's WILL. 53 
 
 ceased to stio^matise the will as outragfe- 
 ous, indelicate, grotesque, and unjust. 
 And now that her cousin Allan was comino 
 home — nay, had come home — for a pro- 
 tracted period on leave of absence, she felt 
 that a crisis was at hand in her fate — a 
 crisis in which she, like a hunted creature, 
 knew not how to escape. 
 
 ' Yes, Allan will soon learn to love you 
 for your own sake,' returned the gentle 
 Eveline, after a pause. 
 
 * How can I ever be certain of that ? 
 Oh, I owe little indeed to papa, who by 
 such a will as his seeks to degrade both 
 your brother and myself,' replied Olive. 
 
 ' Degrade !' exclaimed Eveline, her hazel 
 eyes distending. 
 
 ' Yes — by forcing us into a marriage on 
 one hand, or to accepting starvation on the 
 other.' 
 
 ' Starvation !— such strong language, 
 Olive,' said Eveline, in a tone of rebuke.
 
 54 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 Of the allegerl tie that bound her to 
 Allan Graham, and of the latter himself, 
 personally, she had never thought so seri- 
 ously as she had done of late; and, truth 
 to tell, in the opportunities afforded by 
 mutual residence in a country house — that 
 great rambling castle especially — Mr. 
 Hawke Holcroft, by his subtle attentions 
 when no one else was near, had begun to 
 interest her more than Lord or Lady Aber- 
 feldie could have relished or conceived ; 
 and to her it seemed that for some time 
 back at Dundargue (continuing a senti- 
 ment he had striven to rouse during a 
 past season in London) his eyes had been 
 telling in imploring and passionate glances 
 what his lips had not yet the audacity to 
 utter ; but then the girl was young, enthu- 
 siastic, impressionable, and far from insen- 
 sible to admiration and flattery. 
 
 Though she did nob and could not regard 
 Allan Graham as a lover, and disliked
 
 UNCLE rwVYMOND's WILL. 55 
 
 thus to view him in the light of her in- 
 tended husband, circumstances now com- 
 pelled her to tliinh of him ; and though she 
 remembered him chiefly as the playmate 
 of her childhood, she was piqued that he 
 seemed in no haste to meet and see her, 
 but instead had openly manifested, as she 
 thought, indifference and lack of interest 
 or curiosity, by shooting at Aberfeldie Lodge 
 for days. 
 
 Thus pique made her not indisposed to 
 encourage the attention of others, espe- 
 cially of Hawke Holcroft, as we shall show, 
 when he returned to Dundargue before his 
 departure for London. 
 
 Olive Raymond in her pride of heart 
 bitterly resented the tenor of her father's 
 will. She knew that by the chances of 
 war, climate, and foreign service generally, 
 she might never have seen her cousin 
 again ; but now the inevitable seemed at 
 hand, and she felt herself in a measure
 
 i)Q THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIE. 
 
 set apart for him as fairly as if she had 
 personally betrothed herself ; but was she 
 to be bound, while he was absolutely free ? 
 And stories she had heard — some of them 
 artfully and casually dropped by Holcroft 
 — of more than one flirtation at Chatham 
 and elsewhere, added to the pique in which 
 she was indulging. 
 
 Lady Aberfeldie now came in through 
 one of the open French windows for her 
 cup of afternoon tea, with a bright scarlet 
 shawl looseljT' floating over her handsome 
 head and shapely shoulders, quitting the 
 terrace, where she had been amusing her- 
 self by feeding the peacocks. 
 
 She was looking unusually radiant as 
 she announced that Angus, the young 
 keeper, had just come from the shooting 
 lodge to inform her that the Master would 
 be home that afternoon, and that liis 
 rooms must be put in order for him with- 
 out delay.
 
 UNCLE Raymond's will. 57 
 
 So, on bearing this, the wilful Olive re- 
 solved to pa}^ a protracted visit elsewhere, 
 and to be absent when he did arrive. 
 
 'No woman understood the art of dress- 
 ing better than Ladj Aberfeldie, and well 
 was she aware how truly a dainty maize or 
 a coral colour with rich black lace trim- 
 mings became her brunette tints, her dark 
 hair and eyes, her pure, yet slightly olive 
 complexion. Her whole air was graceful 
 and queenly, as befitted one who was al- 
 ways to ' walk in silk attire.' 
 
 Lady Aberfeldie never forgot that she 
 had been the belle of three seasons in Bel- 
 gravia, and an heiress to the boot, though 
 the memories of others might be less 
 retentive ; and now, in her fortieth year, 
 she was a very handsome blooming woman 
 still. 
 
 ' We must have some dinners and no 
 end of dances and lawn-tennis parties, 
 mamma, in honour of Allan's return,' said
 
 58 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 Eveline, as she assisted her mother to 
 tea. 
 
 ' Thank God, my dear boy is home — 
 home again — and safe at last — after all he 
 has faced and undergone/ said Lady Aber- 
 feldie, with a bright and fond expression 
 in her fine face. ' Why, it seems but yes- 
 terday, Olive, that you and he were little 
 chits playing together on the lawn or at 
 Nannie's knee — when you had rag dolls, 
 and used to sing together of the old wo- 
 man that lived in a shoe, or " High upon 
 Highlands and low upon Tay," or of 
 
 "Alexander, King of Macedon, 
 Who conquered the world but Scotland alone ; 
 When he came to Scotland his courage grew cold, 
 To find a little nation courageous and bold, 
 So stout and so bold — " 
 
 You remember the nursery song, Olive ?' 
 
 ' I have forgotten it, aunt.' 
 
 * Then I hope you will remember in its 
 place the adage '
 
 uxcLE Raymond's will. 5^ 
 
 ^"What adao^e?' interrupted Olive sharply. 
 
 ' That a good, son makes a good hus- 
 band,' said Lady Aberfeldie, archly, and 
 laughing as she tapped her niece's soft 
 cheek with her teaspoon. 
 
 * Adages are not to my taste, aunt.' 
 
 ' Child, what makes you seem so cross 
 to-day?' 
 
 ' The weather, perhaps,' suggested Eve- 
 line. 
 
 But Olive, who had rather a mutinous 
 , expression in her soft face, remained 
 silent. 
 
 ' This is bad form in our day of joy,^ 
 said Lady Aberfeldie, who had been eyeing 
 her closely. * In society well-bred people 
 always control their emotions — their feel- 
 ings.' 
 
 ' Easy enough for them, aunt,' 
 
 'How?' 
 
 ' Because they have seldom any feelings 
 to control.'
 
 60 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 And to prevent more being said with 
 reference to Allan — a subject she dreaded 
 — Olive Raymond withdrew.
 
 61 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 THE GRAHAMS OF DUXDARGUE. 
 
 Who would have imagined that within a 
 few 3^ards of the elegant and stately 
 modern drawing-room in which these three 
 handsome women of the best style were 
 chatting and sipping their tea, there still 
 existed within the old walls of Dundargue 
 a hideous oubliette or bottle dungeon, like 
 those that were in the Castle of St. An- 
 drews and ancient peel of Linlithgow — so 
 named from the French word to ' forget.' 
 
 Shaped like a bottle, it was— and is — > 
 totally dark and of great depth, with no 
 outlet but its narrow mouth, through
 
 62 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 wliicli prisoners were precipitated and left 
 to die. ' Dante/ says Victor Hugo, when 
 describing that in the Bastille, ' could find 
 nothing better for the construction of his 
 hell. These dungeon-funnels usually 
 terminated in a deep hole like a tub, in 
 which Dante has placed his Satan, and in 
 which society placed the criminal condemn- 
 ed to death. "When once a miserable 
 human being was interred there — farewell 
 light, air, life, and hope ! It never went 
 out but to the gibbet or the stake. Some- 
 times it was left to rot there, and human 
 justice called that forgetting. Between 
 mankind and himself the condemned felt 
 an accumulation of stones and jailers, 
 and the whole prison was but one enor- 
 mous and complicated lock that barred 
 him out of the living world.' 
 
 From such places the shrieks and wails 
 of despair and death — death from thirst 
 and hunger —never reach the upper air.
 
 THE GRAHAMS OF DUiND ARGUE. 63 
 
 When the oubliette of Dundargue was 
 examined a few years ago there was found 
 in it a mass of unctuous-lookins^ mould 
 that made those shudder who looked upon 
 it. It was full of skulls and human bones. 
 Of whom those beings had been even 
 tradition was silent; but, as some coins 
 of Edward I. of England were found 
 among the ghastly remains, they were 
 supposed to have been certain English 
 prisoners or fugitives, who, when flying 
 from the siege of Perth, had fallen into 
 the hands of Sir Malise Graham of Dun- 
 dargue, in the Carse of Gowrie, a relent- 
 less enemy of the invaders of his country, 
 who said, grimly, ^ A few Englishmen less 
 in the world would make the world all the 
 better,' and, dropping them successively 
 into the oubliette, placed a huge stone 
 over the mouth of it, and ' forgot ' all 
 about them. 
 
 Erom a short distance beyond Dundee,
 
 64 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIE. 
 
 called ' The Beautiful ' in the days of old, 
 the lovely and fertile Carse of Gowrie, so 
 famed in Scottish song, stretches far west- 
 ward, bounded by the Firth of Tay on 
 the south, and a line of undulating hills 
 on the north, till it narrows to a vale 
 among the rocky eminences that overlook 
 the fair city of Perth. 
 
 The Carse is not quite a dead level, 
 for here and there slope up wooded or 
 cultivated elevations, named Inches, serv- 
 ing to show that in the ages they won 
 their name the Carse had been a wide, 
 open lake ; but above one of these inches 
 towers the abrupt, though not very lofty, 
 rock crowned by the Castle of Dundargue, 
 an edifice on which the surrounding hills 
 have looked down for centuries. 
 
 Bronze or iron rings, to which the 
 Eomans are said to have moored their 
 galleys, were lately to be seen in the 
 rock of Dundargue, and cables have been
 
 THE GRAHAMS OF DUNDAEGUE. 65 
 
 found at the foot of the Sidlaw Hills, 
 relics of the time when an inland sea 
 rolled its waves against their now grassy 
 slopes. 
 
 The original castle, or strong square 
 tower, starts flush from the edge of the 
 rock, out of which its oubliette and lower 
 vaults are hollowed, standing clear and 
 minute against the sky, and its machi- 
 colated battlements rise high above the 
 more florid modern additions of the days 
 of James VI. and Queen Anne. 
 
 From its stone bartizan can be seen the 
 sweep of the broad, blue Firth of Tay, 
 with its vessels, the varied surface of the 
 beautiful Carse of Gowrie clothed with 
 leafy timber, narrow stripes of sand-edged 
 land, and long stretches of cultivated 
 ground, studded with curious old orchards 
 and ancient and hoary forests of dwarf 
 oak ; and on the north and west the glori- 
 ous blue mountains, piled over each other 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 in ranges, and capped, afar off, by the 
 historic Grampians. 
 
 The earliest portion of the edifice is 
 said to have been built by Sir Malise Gra- 
 ham, and possesses the battlemented bar- 
 tizan, which was a decided feature in the 
 architecture of Scotland long before her 
 intimate connection with the Continent ; 
 and the tenures of many houses in the 
 vicinity are still held by owners who, if 
 the}^ had to fulfil the original obligations, 
 would be compelled to bring to the castle 
 coal for its fires, beer and beef for its 
 tables, and oats for the chargers of the 
 men-at-arms, with cords to bind and hang 
 prisoners condemned to the dule-tree. 
 
 The Grahams, Yiscounts of Aberfeldie 
 and Barons of Dundargue in the peerage 
 of Scotland, had the barony bestowed on 
 them in 1600, in consequence of the 
 bravery of the then laird at the battle 
 of Benrinnes, six years before, and the
 
 THE GEAHAMS OP DUNDAEGUE. 67 
 
 viscounty in 1648, for doughty deeds done 
 in the wars of the Covenant ; but they 
 had been lairds of Dundargue in days that 
 •were remote indeed — the days of that 
 Graham who, when expiring of a mortal 
 wound on the field of Dunbar, gave his 
 sword — the same w^eapon now preserved 
 in the house of Montrose — to his son, 
 ^ the Graham ' of future battles, ' the Richt 
 Hand of Wallace,' in whose arms he ex- 
 pired of a wound, after the battle of Fal- 
 kirk, leaving the patronymic of ' gallant ' 
 to all his descendants. 
 
 In one apartment hung with Gobelin 
 tapestry stood a bed wherein Charles II. 
 had reposed before his coronation at Scone; 
 and another had been occupied by his 
 nephew, James YIII., of the Scottish Jaco- 
 bites, before he went to visit Castle Lyon, 
 the guest of John, Lord Aberfeldie, who 
 declined to sit in the Union Parliament, 
 and who, to the end of his days, even w^hen 
 
 f2
 
 68 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 George III. was king, was wont to assert 
 * that green peas and the other edibles 
 were always a month later, after that vile 
 and degrading incorporation,' and that 
 many a sweet flower never blossomed 
 again after the White Rose was destroyed 
 at Culloden. 
 
 In right of gift to an ancestor, the 
 present peer was Hereditary Keeper of 
 the Royal Palace of Falkland, and as such 
 wore a key and chain of silver at his neck 
 on collar days at Windsor and elsewhere. 
 
 It was a September afternoon — almost 
 evening — when the pastures had become 
 parched, the foliage shrivelled and of vari- 
 ous tints, and high-piled wains came rock- 
 ing over the furrowed fields and through 
 green lanes as the harvest was led home, 
 that a horseman ' might have been seen ' 
 (to use the phraseology of Mr. G. P. R. 
 James) — nay, was seen — to ride leisurely 
 down the Carse and take a flying leap over
 
 THE GRAHAMS OF DUNDAEGUE. 69 
 
 a hedge into the great lawn of Dundargue, 
 and then, after trotting his horse between 
 belts of trees, he drew his bridle for a few 
 minutes, while he lingered and regarded 
 fondly and admiringly the old structure, 
 which he had not seen for well-nigh seven 
 years ; and Allan, the Master of Aberfeldie 
 — for he the rider was — thought there was 
 not in all the Carse of Gowrie another 
 residence to compare with Dundargue for 
 the many stories and characteristics that 
 circle about a house which has been for 
 ages the home of one family, with all its 
 historic memories, its traditions and pat- 
 riotism. 
 
 The shadows of the great old trees 
 under which more than one Scottish king 
 had blown his hunting-horn fell far along 
 the turf, that was green as an emerald and 
 soft as velvet. A semi-transparent haze, 
 mingling with the sunshine, pervaded the 
 Carse land ; the smoke of an adjacent vil-
 
 70 THE MASTER OP ABERFELDIE. 
 
 lage ascended from the hoary orchards 
 around it, and far eastward fell the shadow 
 of the tall and weather-worn keep of Dun- 
 dargue, with all its tourelles, or Scottish 
 turrets, tinted redly by the rays of the 
 setting sun ; and Allan's heart swelled as 
 he looked around, for the love of his native 
 land was strong within him, and he re- 
 called the words of an English writer, who 
 describes it as the place chosen by Nature 
 as the mirror of her beauty : 
 
 ^ She has planted it in the northern seas, 
 with its mountains fronting the western 
 sun, and watered its plains and valleys 
 with a thousand streams, over which the 
 lights of heaven are poured with an illumi- 
 nation and a glory, with an entanglement 
 and a mingling of all the colours that can 
 make earth beautiful. There is no land 
 in all the world which, for the softer splen- 
 dours of mountain and fell, wood and 
 stream, surpasses Scotland !'
 
 THE GEAHAMS OF DUNDAEGUE. 71 
 
 And Allan now remembered that the 
 green ridge on which he had reined up 
 his horse for a moment or two had been 
 to him a place of fear, when a child, as 
 the abode of the Daoine Shi — the goblins 
 or fairies — who could be heard at work in 
 the heart of the knoll, busily opening and 
 shutting great chests, the contents of 
 which were alleged to be the pillage of 
 pantries, larders, and meal-girnels ; and 
 once an old housekeeper at Dundargue, 
 who contrived to circumvent them by 
 securing the door of her premises, was 
 struck with blindness, from which she did 
 not recover till the barrier was removed. 
 
 Allan saw a lady suddenly appear upon 
 a path close by that which led to the 
 avenue ; and she proved to be no other 
 than Olive Raymond, who, intent on being 
 absent when he arrived, came thus upon 
 him face to face, yet neither knew the 
 other.
 
 72 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 On her arm she bore a little basket, with 
 some presents for her poor pensioners. 
 The cordiality and kindness of Olive to 
 the poor and labouring people made the 
 periodical return of the household from 
 London and elsewhere more than a matter 
 for local rejoicing. There were none about 
 Dundargue but loved her, as they also did 
 Eveline Graham, though the latter did 
 less among them ; and the Scottish peasant- 
 ry, it must be borne in mind, unlike others 
 elsewhere, are usually too self-reliant and 
 full of proper pride to accept aid from 
 Dorcas, blanket, food, or coal societies. 
 
 Well mounted, Allan had substituted a 
 light-grey tweed suit, which well became 
 his dark complexion, for his shooting-kilt 
 and jacket, and as a sudden light or con- 
 viction came upon him, aided by a memory 
 of the photo he had seen in Holcroft's 
 possession, he sprang from his horse when 
 the young lady drew near.
 
 THE GEAHAMS OF DUNDAEGUE. 73 
 
 ' I beg your pardon/ said he, as he 
 threw the bridle over his arm and lifted 
 his hat ; ' I cannot be mistaken, changed 
 though you are — you are my cousin, Olive 
 Eaymond ?' 
 
 She blushed deeply, and said, 
 
 ' And you — are Allan Graham !' 
 
 ' Yes, Olive. Oh ! how good, how kind 
 of you to come and meet me,' he replied, 
 his heart beating lightly as he looked into 
 her beautiful face and deftly possessed 
 himself of her hands. 
 
 'Far from it,' she replied, seeking to 
 release herself, and now growing pale with 
 positive annoyance at his sapposition. ' I 
 have some duties to do at the village. I 
 hope you enjoyed your shooting excur- 
 sion ?' she observed, after a pause. 
 
 ' I did — and yet ' 
 
 ' So much so, indeed, that you were in 
 no haste to come home,' said she, laugh- 
 ing to conceal her secret vexation at the 
 rencontre.
 
 74 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 Allan found his intended wife all that he 
 could have wished, and more than he could 
 have imagined. The little girl he had left, 
 had now expanded into a tall, proud, and 
 lovely one — lovelier than he had ever 
 dreamed of her being ; and under her 
 ipvetty black velvet hat her grey-violet 
 eyes regarded him with a curious mixture 
 of shyness and confusion in their expres- 
 sion, and — though he did not then detect it 
 — resentment. 
 
 When he had last seen his ' little wife/ 
 as he was wont to call her then, she 
 was a madcap girl, with all her golden 
 hair flying far and wide from a pearly 
 neck and brow, rippling and unconfined. 
 1^0 w her braided hair was of the richest 
 brown, and she was the belle of a London 
 season, and he could not help acknowledg- 
 ing in his heart the many charms she 
 possessed, and suddenly becoming very 
 appreciative thereof.
 
 THE GRAHAMS OF DUNDAEGUE. 75 
 
 ' I hope Mr. Holcroft is enjoying his 
 sport among the hills ?' said she, after an- 
 other pause. 
 
 ' Never mind Holcroft,' replied Allan, a 
 little piqued by her manner ; ' have you no 
 welcome for me, Olive?' 
 
 ' Of course you are glad to be home 
 again,' said she, evasively. 
 
 * I have always loved dear old Dundar- 
 gue, even when I came home as a boy 
 from school, and now I shall love it more 
 than ever.' 
 
 'Why?' 
 
 ' Can you ask me — when you are its 
 permanent inmate ?' 
 
 * I may not be so always,' said she, 
 pointedly. ' Nothing lasts for ever ; but 
 as we are cousins — ' she was about to add 
 something, yet paused. 
 
 ^ And more than mere cousins can ever 
 be to each other. You might at least give 
 me your hand, Olive,' said he, drawing
 
 76 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 nearer to her as she looked up at him, earn- 
 estly, shyly, and then, he began to think, 
 rather defiantly, with those wonderful 
 violet-grey eyes of hers. She gave him 
 her right hand, and, though cased in a 
 tight glove, a soft and warm little hand it 
 felt ; but he drew her towards him, and, 
 ere she could avert the act, was softly and 
 swiftly kissed by him. 
 
 ' Dont^ she exclaimed, as she snatched 
 her fingers from his clasp. ' How dare 
 you ?' she added, repelling him with both 
 hauds outspread, and a laughing indigna- 
 tion that was not all laughter ; but he 
 looked at the sweet red lips as though he 
 longred to offend aofain. 
 
 * Olive, how can you treat me thus, after 
 all these years ?' he asked, with an emo- 
 tion of annoyance. ' Have you forgotten 
 what jolly playmates we used to be ; how 
 we went nutting and seeking birds' nests 
 together, made rag dolls, and chorused
 
 THE GRAHAMS OF DUNDARGUE. 77 
 
 "Alexander, King of Maceclon," and so 
 forth, with our old nurse, Nannie Mac- 
 kinnon, the wife of Dugald Glas?' 
 
 ' I have not forgotten ; but I had 
 thought, or hoped, that you had done 
 so.' 
 
 'Why?' 
 
 * I cannot say,' replied the wilful beauty, 
 pouting and yet confessing in her secret 
 heart how handsome he looked, and how 
 winning he was in eye and manner. 
 
 ' I remember, too,' said he, laughingly, 
 'the scores of times we used to wander in 
 the garden, or on the heather braes, seek- 
 ing bees to hloh and get the honey out of 
 them ; and when on May mornings you 
 used to catch a snail by the horns, and 
 toss it over your left shoulder as an omen 
 of luck in marriage.' 
 
 ' Allan, such odious and absurd things 
 should be forgotten.' 
 
 * We were children, then ; and what
 
 78 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 fun we had wheu fishing with tinnies in 
 the burn for minnows and pow-wowits 
 under the old brig-stone. Do you remem- 
 ber how I used to climb to get birds' nests 
 for you, and how we wove fairy caps of 
 rushes and bluebells in many a green howe 
 of the Sidlaw Hills ?' 
 
 ' How can you treasure such childish 
 memories, Allan?' she asked, but with 
 momentary softness in her manner. 
 
 ' Because such were very dear to me 
 when far away in other lands and other 
 scenes, when the Indian sky was like a 
 sheet of heated iron overhead, and the 
 breeze that came from the sandy desert 
 was like the breath of the death-blast ; 
 when cattle perished by the empty tanks, 
 the birds sat on the dusty trees with eyes 
 closed and beaks agape, and when strong 
 soldiers died on the line of march, stricken 
 down by sunstroke or sheer exhaus- 
 tion.'
 
 THE GRAHAMS OF DTJNDARGUE. 79 
 
 ' Poor Allan !' 
 
 'And you are going to the village?' 
 said he, inquiringly, seeing that she 
 manifested no desire to return with 
 him. 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' But won't you accompany me home, 
 now that I have returned ?' 
 
 ' You must excuse me — I do so en- 
 joy a walk in the evening before 
 dinner. 
 
 ' I have not seen my mother for seven 
 years,' he said, reproachfully; 'yet, if 
 you will permit me to accompany you to 
 the village, I shall do so, and then escort 
 you home.' 
 
 ' I cannot trespass on your time so 
 much,' she replied, with a slight soupcon 
 of sarcasm in her tone ; ' besides, what 
 would Aunt Aberfeldie think of your 
 being in no haste to see her, after lin- 
 oferine so long: at the deer-forest ?'
 
 80 THE MASTER OF ABEEPELDTE. 
 
 Allan thought rightly that he now de- 
 tected the true source of her pique and 
 peculiar greeting ; but he knew nothing 
 yet of her bitter opposition to the terms 
 of her father's will. 
 
 ' Aunt and Eveline are anxiously waiting 
 you, so do not let me detain you longer. 
 If an escort back is requisite, I shall doubt- 
 less find one with ease,' and, nodding her 
 head smilingly, she tripped down the tree- 
 shaded avenue and left him ; thus he had 
 no choice, though looking after her with a 
 sigh, but to remount and ride towards the 
 house, or rather the castle, of Dundargue. 
 
 So — so she had so little interest in him, 
 in his return and his society — that she 
 would neither turn back with him nor per- 
 mit him to escort her, but had left him ta 
 pay some trumpery visits which she could 
 do at any other time, day, or hour. 
 
 ' How was this ?' he asked of himself. 
 ' Holcroft has certainly something to do
 
 THE GRAHAMS OF DUNDARGUE. 81 
 
 with it. Why the deuce did my father 
 bring the fellow here ?' 
 
 Allan's hitherto languid interest in her 
 had become quickened by the sight of her 
 undoubted beauty and grace, and he was, 
 perhaps, a little unreasonably piqued by 
 her open indifference as to his return from 
 remote foreign service, and to his views 
 and whole affairs. Thus the breach be- 
 tween these two — if such we may call it — 
 seemed likely to widen. 
 
 In a few minutes more the affectionate 
 effusiveness of the welcome home accorded 
 him by his mother and his tender sister 
 consoled him, but it contrasted in his mind 
 powerfully and painfully with that of his 
 cousin ; yet he could scarcely expect that 
 she would have flung her soft arms round 
 his neck and kissed him again and again 
 with hungry affection on both cheeks as 
 they did. 
 
 * The pater, dear old fellow, will be 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 THE MASTER OP ABERFELDIE. 
 
 iiome in the course of a day or two/ said 
 he. ' Mr. Holcroft is coming with him, 
 and Stratherroch, of Ours, too,' he added. 
 
 He noticed that Eveline's pale cheek 
 coloured for a moment at the name of the 
 latter. 
 
 ^ Ah, you know him, it seems ?' said he. 
 
 ' Yes, very well,' replied Eveline, frankly. 
 
 ' He has been at home with the depot 
 lately. A right good sort is Evan Cameron, 
 but desperately hard up, poor lad. I often 
 think he will have to exchange for India 
 or something of that kind, though it would 
 break his heart to leave the Black Watch.' 
 
 Eveline's long lashes drooped as her 
 brother said this, all unconscious that his 
 casual remarks were secretly wounding 
 her. 
 
 The expression he could plainly detect 
 in the sweet and expressive face of his 
 sister at the mention of Evan Cameron 
 gave Allan some occasion for thought.
 
 THE GRAHAMS OF DUNDAEGUE. 83 
 
 He loved aud esteemed his friend and 
 brotber-oflficer, but felt it would be a 
 serious misfortune indeed if any affection 
 took root between him and Eveline ; for 
 Evan was poor, as we have hinted, his 
 estate valueless to him, and * at nurse ;' 
 and there was, moreover, a necessity for 
 Eveline making a wealthy marriage — in- 
 deed, her father, Lord Aberfeldie, had 
 already a suitor in view for her. 
 
 ^ I am so sorry that our dear Olive is 
 out.' said Allan's mother, breaking a little 
 pause ; ' but we knew not at what hour to 
 expect you.' 
 
 ' I met her in the avenue- ' 
 
 ' And you knew each other — how 
 strange !' exclaimed Lady Aberfeldie, with 
 a brightening face. 
 
 * Yes, after a minute or two. She seems 
 as charming a girl as one — to use a sol- 
 dier s phrase — might see in the longest 
 day's march.' 
 
 g2
 
 84 THE MASTER OF ABERPELDIE. 
 
 * And sucli she is. She did not turn 
 back with you ?' 
 
 ' No, mother,' he replied, with hesitation. 
 
 * But she was, of course, glad to see 
 you?' 
 
 ' I can't say that she was particularly, 
 mater dear ; and she got into a regular 
 pet because I dared to kiss her, even in a 
 cousinly way.' 
 
 ' Dared, my darling boy !' exclaimed his 
 mother, indignantly. 
 
 ^ Fact, mater,' said the Master, smiling 
 and twirling up the ends of his long dark 
 moustaches. 
 
 Lady Aberfeldie and her daughter ex- 
 changed a swift and mutual glance; but 
 the latter knew more of the views of the 
 young lady in question than the former did. 
 
 ' I am glad you are pleased with Olive,' 
 said she; 'and when your acquaintance is 
 fully resumed you will find the dear girl all 
 you could wish.'
 
 THE GEAHAMS OF DUNDAEGUE. 85 
 
 ' She has wonderful blue-grey eyes ; they 
 seem violet-blue when she sruiles, and black 
 when she is angry.' 
 
 ' Angry T said Lady Aberfeldie, inquir- 
 ingly. 
 
 ' "Well, she rather looked so when I 
 ventured to kiss her in the avenue,' said 
 Allan, laughing, and referring to a kiss 
 that, though snatched, he was never to 
 forget, perhaps, in the long years that 
 were to come. 
 
 ' She lias grown the very image of her 
 mother, your poor Aunt Muriel, who was 
 one of my bridesmaids.' 
 
 By visits to the minister's manse and 
 elsewhere Olive had wilfully and petulantly 
 contrived to protract her absence from 
 home to the last moment; the dressing- 
 bell had rung, and before dinner she was 
 hastily giving a few touches to her costume 
 — not that she cared to attract her cousin
 
 86 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 (quite the reverse) ^ — but she dismissed her 
 foreign maid, Clairette Patchouli, on a sign 
 that Eveline wished to talk with her alone, 
 
 ' Now, Olive,' began the latter, ' that you 
 have seen Allan ' 
 
 * I saw him years ago,' interrupted Olive, 
 pettishly. 
 
 ' He was a boy then ; but now that he is 
 a man, and not the boy you remember^ 
 what do you think of him ?' 
 
 Olive made no reply, but continued to 
 slip her bangles on the whitest, roundest, 
 and most taper pair of arms that ever be- 
 wildered the senses of man. 
 
 'Isn't he very handsome?' persisted 
 Eveline. 
 
 ' To partial eyes, perhaps, but there are 
 plenty of men in the world quite as hand- 
 some — even more so, I doubt not. I like 
 him already, but don't let him think so ; 
 besides, I also like our English visitor, Mr. 
 Holcroft.'
 
 THE GRAHAMS OF DUNDAEGUE. 87 
 
 *I do notP said Eveline, decisively. 
 'Why?' 
 
 * He is horsey in bearing, and his face, 
 though handsome, T grant you, often wears 
 a sinister, sharp, and supercilious expres- 
 sion.' 
 
 ' How tanned Allan is by the Indian 
 sun !' 
 
 * I think his face and head both grand 
 and handsome !' exclaimed his sister, with 
 affectionate enthusiasm; 'he quite reminds 
 me of the old Greeks.' 
 
 ' I was not aware you knew any of them,' 
 laughed Olive. 
 
 ' Their sculptures, I mean,' replied Eve- 
 line, as they swept down the great stair- 
 case to the dining-room.
 
 88 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 OLIVE AND ALLAN. 
 
 A FEW days had now passed since Allan 
 Grabam's return to Dundargue, but he 
 seemed — though greatly attracted by his 
 cousin Olive, and in a manner compelled to 
 think of her as something more than a 
 mere cousin — to make no progress in her 
 favour at all. Sometimes he smoked beside 
 her in utter silence, while she swung in a 
 hammock between two trees on the lawn, 
 deep — or affecting to be so — in the last 
 three-volume novel that had come in the 
 box from Edinburgh ; and, when they stole 
 furtive glances at each other, his were
 
 OLIVE AND ALLAN. 89 
 
 curious and hers, under the shadow o£ 
 her gorgeous Japanese umbrella, were 
 hostile, defiant at least, and thus not 
 without a certain drollery ; but few remarks 
 were interchanged of a more exciting 
 nature than that ' the weather was lovely,' 
 or ' the leaves were falling.' 
 
 In these days, and for long after, Olive 
 was terribly uncertain in her moods, and 
 to Allan Graham it seemed at times as if 
 she almost disliked him. 
 
 When they were alone together, which 
 was seldom, she scarcely spoke to him, 
 and thus his enforced silence disposed her 
 to be more silent still. To Olive the whole 
 situation was one of miserable unrest ; she 
 felt that there was something grotesque 
 in it, and she longed intensely to be any- 
 where else than at Dundargue. 
 
 While Allan, admiring her rare beauty 
 and pretty, petulant ways, was already 
 learning to love her, he found his tongue
 
 90 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 loaded, as it were, tied up, and his tender- 
 ness cramped by the strange tenor of 
 her father's will, which made him feel that, 
 love her as he might, that love would never 
 seem pure, or without the taint of self- 
 ishness. 
 
 He had procured for her at Malta a 
 complete suite of gold and pearl-mounted 
 Maltese jewellery, the best that could be 
 found in the Strada San Paoli, costing 
 him more than even he could well afford ; 
 but now so cold and repellant was her 
 demeanour that he had not the courage as 
 yet to present the elaborate trinkets — so 
 rich in fretwork and fine as a gossamer 
 web — so they were left to repose in their 
 purple velvet cases. 
 
 Yet his thoughts about her were be- 
 coming persistent now. Times there were 
 when he conceived that he would treat her 
 judiciously, but tenderly, and in such a 
 fashion that her feelings must slide into a
 
 OLTVE AND ALLAN. 91 
 
 species of sisterly, or at least cousinly, 
 interest in him ; but then — at these times 
 — a flash of her dark grey-blue eyes cast 
 these intentions to the winds, though 
 Allan began to feel nothing but passionate 
 love for her. 
 
 To him, as to her, the situation imparted 
 an awkwardness now, that of course he had 
 never been conscious of when a boy. He 
 did not want the money of his cousin or of 
 anyone else, as he muttered to himself 
 while tugging and twisting his thick, dark 
 moustache ; and thus, with all the tender- 
 ness that was growing in his heart for 
 Olive, he often unconsciously adopted to- 
 wards her a studied courtesy and almost 
 indifferent bearing that somewhat galled 
 her ready pride, and made her think ' this 
 indifference to me, and the beauty all men 
 aver I possess, can only spring from a love 
 he bears some one else ; and, with that 
 love in his heart, he seems actually ready
 
 92 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 to conform to the outrageous wishes of 
 papa !' 
 
 And more convinced of this suspicion 
 did she become when she found that he 
 evinced no more desire to seek her society 
 than that of his mother or sister ; but this 
 ■was the result of her own bearing. 
 
 Allan was ere long in sore perplexity. 
 The slightest attempt at tenderness she 
 repelled or seemed to shrink from, as a 
 sensitive plant shrinks from the touch ; 
 and, on the other hand, the lack of it 
 seemed to increase her coldness and rouse 
 her sense of pride. 
 
 ' What the deuce is the meaning of 
 this ?' muttered Allan, as he chanced upon 
 a volume one day. It was a very hand- 
 some and expensive edition of some of 
 Byron's poems, which had been given by 
 Hawke Holcroft to Olive as a birthday 
 gift, and on turning over the leaves of 
 which he found innumerable paragraphs
 
 OLIVE AND ALLAN. 9^ 
 
 and lines pencilled on pao^es that seemed 
 to fall naturally open, where these marks, 
 all of which referred to love and passion, 
 were most plentiful. 
 
 All of these seemed to have been select- 
 ed with an ulterior view for her perusal 
 and study. Allan knit his brows and 
 tossed the volume to the other side of 
 the table. 
 
 ' So, so/ thought he, ' Cousin Olive has 
 had a guide for her reading, and the guide 
 is that fellow Holcroft. He has made 
 good use of his time, hang him !' 
 
 Olive, who had been watching him under 
 the deep fringes of her eyes, smiled when 
 she saw the action, and, instantly divining 
 the reason of it, resolved not to leave her 
 Byron lying about in future ; and now a 
 new mood seized her. 
 
 'Tell me, Allan,' she said, suddenly 
 looking up from a piece of music she was 
 studying, 'did you ever think of me at
 
 94 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIB. 
 
 all wlien you were all these years far 
 away in India T 
 
 /Have you forgotten what I told you on 
 the evening we met on the lawn?' said he, 
 reproachfully, yet surprised by her taking 
 the initiative in a conversation, especially 
 of this kind. ' Often, indeed, did I think 
 of you !' 
 
 * How — in what fashion ?' 
 
 ^ As my merry little playmate when I 
 was a mere youth — the droll girl to whom 
 I was somehow tied up under Uncle Kay- 
 mond's will.' 
 
 ' You phrase it rightly,' said she, biting 
 her coral nether lip. ' Tied up ; yes, but 
 I won't be so. Yet you did think of me 
 as a droll little playmate ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; how else could I think of you ? 
 Not as the lovely girl I find you now, 
 Olive.' 
 
 ^ You may know by this time that I hate 
 all flattery,' said she, blushing hotly at
 
 OLIVE AND ALLAN. 95 
 
 what she had brought upon herself by a 
 blunt reference to a hitherto ignored sub- 
 ject — their mutual relation to each other. 
 
 ' I have here a gift I brought you from 
 India,' observed Allan, timidly, as he un- 
 locked his desk and thought of the Maltese 
 ornaments, but did not dare refer to them 
 as yet. 
 
 ' A gift ?' said she, coldly, with face half 
 averted. 
 
 ' A little silver idol of Siva, beautifully 
 carved and chased — will you accept of it ?' 
 
 ' Thanks — with pleasure,' said she, trem- 
 bling lest it had been a ring. ' How curi- 
 ous, and yet how grotesquely hideous it 
 is !' she added, turning it round, and then 
 balancing it in the white palm of a slim 
 and delicate hand. 
 
 'And rather a curious story attends it 
 — if you care to hear.' 
 
 ' Please to tell me,' said she, her curi- 
 osity roused. ' Why, the funny thing has
 
 96 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIE. 
 
 ever so many heads, and a dozen of arms 
 at least !' 
 
 ' We were in cantonments at Hurdwur, 
 in Delhi/ said Allan, glad to secure her 
 attention even for a few minutes, * when 
 a subadar-major of the 10th Native Infan- 
 try, a disciple of Siva, wishing to sacrifice 
 to his little idol, placed it by the bank of 
 the river there, which is one of the greatest 
 places for Hindoo purification, and the 
 resort of thousands of pilgrims from every 
 part of Hindostan. While he turned aside 
 to get the ghee with which to anoint it, 
 some person adroitly carried it off. After 
 searching for it in vain, with consternation 
 in his soul, the unfortunate subadar-major 
 went to the priest of the nearest temple, 
 and, with tears in his eyes, related his loss. 
 
 ' " Dog !" exclaimed the priest, " you 
 have lost your god, and must prepare to 
 die, for death alone can soothe the wrath 
 of Siva."
 
 OLIVE AND ALLAN. 97 
 
 * '' If die I must," replied fhe wretched 
 subadar-major, with clasped hands and 
 trembling knees, though a brave man, as 
 the medals on his breast proved, "it shall 
 be by drowning in the holy river ; so come 
 with me to the edge thereof, and give me 
 your blessing." 
 
 ' The priest consented, and followed him 
 to the Ganges, into which he went deliber- 
 ately. 
 
 * " Be courageous, my son — die with joy, 
 and perfect happiness awaits you," ex- 
 claimed the priest. 
 
 ^ " My dear master," said the subadar, 
 " before I perish, lend me your god that I 
 may adore it — the water is already up to 
 my neck." 
 
 * The priest consented, and handed his 
 idol to the subadar-major, who, as if by 
 accident, let it drop in the deep water. 
 
 *^'Ah! master," he exclaimed, as if in 
 horror and dismay, " what a new mis- 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE MASTER OP ABERFELDIE. 
 
 fortune ! Your god is also lost, and so we 
 must die together — for you must drown, 
 too, and go with me to the throne of 
 Siva !" 
 
 ' And, approaching the priest, he strove 
 to grasp the hand of the latter, who stood 
 pale and trembling on the lowest step of 
 the ghaut or landing-place. 
 
 ' " What trash do you speak ?" the priest 
 suddenly exclaimed, in great wrath ; "can 
 there be any harm in losing a little image 
 of baked clay, not worth an anna ! I have 
 dozens of such in my temple close by ; let 
 us each choose one, and keep silence on the 
 subject !" 
 
 ' The subadar did so then, but chose 
 this fine silver one, which he bestowed on 
 me for kindness shown to him when 
 dying of a wound received in a skirmish, 
 and I brought it home as a bauble for you, 
 Cousin Olive/ 
 
 She placed the idol on the table, and
 
 OLIVE AND ALLAN. 99 
 
 remained silent, while Allan ejed her 
 wistfully. 
 
 ' Why is my presence so distasteful to 
 you ?' he asked, after a minute's pause. 
 
 ' Distasteful ! Oh ! Allan, don't say so,' 
 said she, impressed by the pathos of his 
 tone, but for a moment only ; ^ it is you 
 who think, or seem to think so.' 
 
 * Olive !' he exclaimed, a little impatient- 
 ly and reproachfully as he drew near her. 
 
 ' There — there — that will do,' said she, 
 starting up, ' don't bring down the ceil- 
 ing on me — auntie more than all 1' 
 
 o 
 
 And she swept from the room, leaving 
 the idol behind her. 
 
 Allan sighed with annoyance, and ad- 
 dressed her no more during the whole of 
 that day. She was conscious of this, for 
 she remarked to Lady Aberfeldie in the 
 evening, 
 
 ' How odd— how strange Cousin Allan 
 
 is to me !' 
 
 H 2
 
 100 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 ' Strange ?' 
 
 ' Yes, aunt.' 
 
 ' I know not what you mean, Olive,' she 
 replied, a little gravely and severely; * but 
 to me it seems that youave always strange, 
 • and not my son, the Master.' 
 
 Lady Aberfeldie had a soft, but set face 
 of the classic type, with a mouth that, 
 though beautiful and aristocratic, could 
 become very fixed in expression at times, 
 and it seemed so now to Olive, thus that 
 yoang lady withdrew. 
 
 ' Our Allan is young and handsome, 
 noble and most unselfishly in love with 
 her, as I am beginning to hope, Eveline, so 
 what more would Olive Raymond wish 
 for ?' said Lady Aberfeldie to her daughter. 
 
 * She would have that, which she has 
 not, mamma, perfect freedom to accept or 
 refuse whom she chose. Unselfish in love 
 I' know Allan must be ; but that is precise- 
 ly the point which Olive is left to doubt.'
 
 OLIVE AND ALLAN. 101 
 
 * Wherefore ?' 
 
 ' Through that unlucky will, which 
 makes a kind of bondswoman of her.' 
 
 ' I would to heaven the silly document 
 had never been framed ! I have often 
 feared that it might lead to all our atten- 
 tion, care, and affection being misconstrued 
 by her ; but Allan might have been sickly, 
 weakly, even deformed, and, with the terms 
 of this will hanging over her, what would 
 she have thought then ?' 
 
 ' Then, as I have heard her say, the will 
 might be reduced by a court of law.' 
 
 At this reply a clouded expression came 
 into the fair, colourless face of Lady 
 Aberfeldie, but just then a servant in the 
 Graham livery, yellow and black, approach- 
 ed with a note on a salver. 
 
 ' From papa !' she said, while cutting it 
 open with a mother-of-pearl knife. ' Just 
 a line or two to say he will be home in a 
 couple of days, and is certainly bringing
 
 ] 02 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 with him Mr. Hawke Holcroft, ^'the son 
 of his old friend," and that other young 
 detrimental, Stratherroch. He is well- 
 nigh penniless, but, with your papa, to be 
 in the Black Watch is quite equal to a 
 patent of nobility.' 
 
 Eveline felt her colour fade, while a sad 
 expression stole over her soft face, and 
 her mother, after glanciog at her narrow- 
 ly, added, 
 
 ' He also brings our wealthy friend, Sir 
 Paget Puddicombe. the M.P. for Slough- 
 cum-Sloggit, in Yorkshire. You remember 
 him in London last season, and how much 
 he admired you, dear ?' 
 
 Eveline did remember him, and how the 
 rich but elderly baronet's attentions, en- 
 couraged by her parents, were the ridicule 
 of her girl friends and the bane of her 
 existence ; yet she^pnly sighed and remain- 
 ed silent, and, passing through a French 
 window, quitted the drawing-room to join
 
 OLIVE AND ALLAN. 103 
 
 her brother, who was smoking a cigar on 
 the terrace, and teasing the peacocks as 
 they sat on the stately balustrade. 
 
 He was in rather a similar mood. He 
 felt the demeanour of Olive after the little 
 episode of the idol keenly, and, remember- 
 ing the pencilled Byron, was, of course, 
 inclined to connect Hawke Holcroft with 
 that demeanour ; so he had certainly be- 
 come, for a time, cold and constrained in 
 manner to his cousin. 
 
 ' When was that photo of Olive done ?' 
 he asked, rather abruptly. 
 
 ' The one in the ball dress ?' 
 
 ' Yes.' • 
 
 ' When we were last in Edinburgh ; but 
 I do not remember where the studio was.' 
 
 * She gave one to that Mr. Holcroft.' 
 
 ' I was quite unaware that she did so,* 
 said Eveline, with some annoyance of 
 manner. 
 
 ' Look here, Eve, if, when in London,'
 
 104 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 grumbled Allan, ' she shies her photos 
 about in this fashion they will soon be in 
 every fellow's possession, and we may, 
 ere long, expect to find them, like those 
 of professional beauties, on glove and 
 match-boxes.' 
 
 ' What a funny and horrid idea !' said 
 his sister, passing her arm through his and 
 nestling her head on his shoulder, while 
 he, stooping, kissed her mignonne face with 
 a smiling caress. , 
 
 ' There is nothing funny about it,' he 
 replied, though, like her, he could little 
 foresee the trouble that unlucky photo- 
 graph was to cost in the future. * And, to 
 say the least of it, Olive treats me with 
 almost hostility at times.' 
 
 ' She does not conceal from me a resent- 
 ment at her lack of free will.' 
 
 ' As for Uncle Raymond's arrangements, 
 I would to goodness that he had left all 
 he had to his old housekeeper and her
 
 OLIVE AND ALLAN. 105 
 
 infernal screeching cockatoo with the yel- 
 low tuft.' 
 
 ' Certainly Olive does not seem to be the 
 kind of girl to be disposed of against her 
 wish, Allan; you may read that in the firm 
 tread of her little fqet, in the carriage of 
 her head, and the perfect possession of her 
 manner/ 
 
 ' But surely she may be won — though 
 she will not understand me.' 
 
 ' I hope she will ere long ; but is there 
 not a writer who says, Allan, that while 
 the world lasts the difficulty of women 
 understanding and making allowance for 
 the feelings of men in what pertains to 
 love, " will be probably one of the great 
 sources of darkness and confusion in the 
 social arrangement of things." ' 
 
 ' What a dear little casuist it is,' said he, 
 as she raised her loetite figure on tip-toe to 
 kiss his well-tanned cheek ; ' but/ he add- 
 €d, ' I am in a state of great uncertainty/
 
 106 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 * Uncertainty can always be ended ; but 
 then perhaps how bitterly — how very bit- 
 terly,' replied Eveline, who was not with- 
 out some harrowing thoughts of her own ; 
 and something in her tone caused Allan 
 to regard her soft hazel eyes, and sweet, 
 shy face, with tenderness and inquiry. 
 
 * Of what are you thinking, or of — 
 whom?' he whispered, as his arm went 
 caressing round her, and he stroked her 
 bright, sheeny hair. 
 
 ' T may trust you, Allan ?' she said, in a 
 broken voice. 
 
 ' To death, petite. You are thinking of 
 — of Evan Cameron ?' 
 
 Eveline sobbed now. 
 
 ' Has he spoken of love to you ?' asked 
 Allan, in a low voice, and with a troubled 
 expression in his face. 
 
 * Never ; he knows it would be hopeless,' 
 she replied, huskily. 
 
 ' Poor Evan ! and the governor is bring-
 
 OLIVE AND ALLAN. 107 
 
 ing him again— a grand mistake ! How 
 the deuce is all this to end with us ? But 
 don't sob so, my little darling,' he added, 
 as he drew her closer to him. 
 
 Yet, despite her brother's sympathy and 
 tenderness, Eveline Graham let her tears 
 flow freely, and he promised to keep her 
 secret that she and Evan Cameron cher- 
 ished an unspoken and hopeless love for 
 each other ; and in a brief space they were 
 to meet again ! 
 
 Meanwhile, though somewhat relieved 
 by having her brother for a confidant, she 
 was both restless and unhappy. She 
 strolled upon the terrace to feed the pea- 
 cocks, or wandered listlessly in the garden, 
 going from occupation to occupation, tak- 
 ing up a book — one of Mudie's last — only 
 to toss it aside ; seated herself before the 
 piano, rose then and left it. Anon she 
 resorted to her sketching-block, sorted her 
 colours, selected a brush, only to quit any 
 attempt to work with a hopeless sigh.
 
 108 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 THE CHAGRIN OF LOVE. 
 
 Lord Aberfeldie duly arrived at Dundargue 
 with his three gentlemen visitors, their 
 approach being heralded by the pipes o£ 
 Eonald Gair, who was perched on a seat 
 of the game-laden wagonette as it bowled 
 ■up the avenue. 
 
 On the first day of his return the peer 
 was anxious to learn upon what footing 
 the cousins were — if Allan had made a 
 proposal, or ' even opened the trenches,' 
 and if so, with what success. On these 
 points he was enlightened by Lady Aber- 
 feldie, and, though not very much surprised
 
 THE CHAGRIN OF LOVE. 109 
 
 to find matters as they were, lie trusted 
 to propinquity and cousinly feeling of in- 
 tercourse, as trump cards in the game, and 
 was sure that all would come right in the 
 end, and before Allan's leave of absence 
 was out. 
 
 There was no selfishness in this desire 
 of Lord Aberfeldie. He had no power to 
 alter the matter as it stood, for if she did 
 not marry Allan if he was willing to marry 
 her, ' then and in that case,' as the will 
 had it, her patrimony would be lost even 
 to herself. Allan's death alone would save 
 it for her. 
 
 Great indeed, thought the girl with bit- 
 terness, must have been her father's regard 
 for the house of Aberfeldie ! 
 
 *What friends — such lovers we might 
 be but for the confounded plans of that 
 eccentric old fellow !' was the ever-recur- 
 ring thought of Allan. 
 
 ' You are at least fond of her?' said the
 
 110 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 peer, as lie and his son smoked their 
 cigars together on the terrace that over- 
 looked the far- stretching vista of the Carse 
 of Gowrie, then bathed in the raddy splen- 
 dour of the setting sun. 
 
 ' Fond of Ohve ! Yes, as much as she 
 will permit me to be. She is my cousin, 
 of course/ replied Allan. 
 
 ' There is something evasive — doubtful 
 — in your answer ; but you must at some 
 time or other propose to her. You know 
 precisely the terms of her father's remark- 
 able will.' 
 
 ' Yes, and that it hangs like a millstone 
 round the necks of us both, rendering 
 what may be the dearest wish of our 
 hearts liable, perhaps, to the grossest mis- 
 construction. She has more than once 
 told Eveline that to gain freedom of action 
 she would face poverty — anything.' 
 
 ' Tuts ! Eomantic rant ! Much sJie 
 knows of what poverty is. But why
 
 THE CHAGRIN OF LOVE. Ill 
 
 should she even think of facing it?' 
 
 ' To be free and unfettered, as I have 
 said.' 
 
 ' Relinquishing to you all that portion 
 of her fortune which does not go to charit- 
 able institutions ?' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 * Poor girl ! A silly and impetuous 
 threat. But she will think better of it, 
 Allan, by-and-by, and we have fully five 
 years to count upon yet.' 
 
 But it did not seem as if the fair Olive 
 was likely to change her mind soon, to 
 judge by her bearing that evening, when, 
 after dinner, the guests and family at 
 Dundargue assembled in the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 The repast was over, and thereafter, 
 ere the ladies withdrew, Ronald Gair, with 
 all his drones in order, his Crimean, 
 'Indian, and Ashanti medals glittering on 
 his breast, had marched thrice round the
 
 112 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIE. 
 
 table, according to his daily wont, in ' fall 
 fig/ looking as only a Highland piper or a 
 peacock can look ; and, to the amazement 
 of Sir Paget Puddicombe and the disgust 
 of Hawke Holcroft, winding up 'The 
 Birks of Aberfeldie ' by several warlike 
 skirls at the back of his master's chair — 
 the dinner, we say, was over, and the 
 gentlemen had joined the ladies in the 
 stately drawing-room, which was lighted 
 by more than one glittering chandelier. 
 
 Lord Aberfeldie, his son, and Strather- 
 roch, as they wore the kilt, had, of course, 
 substituted for their rough shooting- 
 jackets others of black cloth, with the 
 irreproachable white vests and ties as 
 evening costume,^ and had also assumed 
 their silver-mounted dirks ; while Hol- 
 croft and one or two more were de rigueur 
 in the funereal attire, which a writer calls 
 ' the butler-suit, the most hideous clothing 
 yet hit upon by our species.'
 
 THE CHAGRIN OF LOVE. 1 13 
 
 In that brilliant drawing-room, grouped 
 with well-bred people, were some curious 
 elements of secret doubt and future dis- 
 cord that did not quite meet the eye. 
 
 Holcroft hung over the chair of Olive 
 so closely that, at times, the tip of his 
 long and waxed tawny moustache nearly 
 touched her head, while she played with 
 her fan, opening and shutting it listlessly 
 as they conversed in low tones, he adopt- 
 ing a sentimental oue, though it was ever 
 his boast that he ' was not one of those 
 fools who hoard by them dried flowers, 
 locks of hair, and all that sort of thing.' 
 
 Quietly watched by Lady Aberfeldie, 
 whose lips wore their set expression, Evan 
 Cameron was entirely occupied with her 
 daughter, while Allan seemed quite as 
 intent on a new guest, Miss Logan of 
 Loganlee, a girl possessed of considerable 
 personal attractions ; and his father talked 
 politics with Loganlee himself, the parish 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 THE MASTER OF ABEREELDIE. 
 
 rainister, and Sir Paget Puddicombe, a 
 short, pompous, and squat, but rather 
 pleasant little man, with a prematurely 
 bald head, which he had a way of jerking 
 forward from his neck like a turtle, a 
 rubicund face, two merry eyes, and whose 
 age was rather doubtful, but too old any 
 way for a girl of Eveline Graham's years, 
 though he affected considerable juvenility 
 of manner. 
 
 Lord Aberfeldie. who generally about 
 that time, when at Dundargue, was wont 
 to enjoy a quiet little game of chess or 
 bezique with Olive or Eveline, was rather 
 bored by the empressement with which the 
 clergyman. Sir Paget, and Loganlee dis- 
 cussed politics and the prospects of the 
 ministry. 
 
 The latter, a sombre man, whose air of 
 respectability was almost oppressive, was 
 one of a style of men common enough in 
 Scotland. A small landed proprietor, he
 
 THE CHAGRIN OP LOVE. 115 
 
 had contrived to become M.P. in the 
 Liberal interest for a cluster of Scottish 
 burghs (each of which, if in England, 
 would have had two members), and 
 he w^as chiefly noted — being ^ Parliament 
 House bred' — for neglecting Scottish in- 
 terests and toadying to the Lord-Advocate, 
 and consequently obtained the usual legal 
 reward, a sheriffship, or something of that 
 kind, with a thousand a year or so. 
 
 He "seldom opened his mouth, save to 
 talk on politics ; he was tall and thio, with 
 very square shoulders, grizzled, sandy, 
 mutton-chop whiskers, apple-green eyes, 
 and nothino- more about him remarkable, 
 save a curious air of perpetual self-asser- 
 tion, combined, as we have said, with an 
 oppressive one of respectability. 
 
 His host began to change the tenor of the 
 conversation by hoping that Sir Paget found 
 his quarters comfortable last night, adding 
 that he occupied * the Johnson Ptoom.' 
 
 i2
 
 116 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 ^ Whj7 is it SO called r' asked Sir Paget, 
 jerking forward his bald head. 
 
 ^ Dr. Johnson slept a night in Dundargue 
 when on his famous tour.' 
 
 * Of which Boswell makes no mention ?' 
 said Mr. Logan, inquiringly. 
 
 * Because my ancestor did not pay Iwn 
 sufficient deference ; and, indeed, I fear 
 we should scarcely ever have heard of the 
 literary bear of Bolt Court and Fleet Street 
 but for that Scotch toady of his. Though 
 he alleged that the most valuable piece 
 of timber in Scotland was his walking- 
 stick, he might have seen some fine trees 
 at the Birks of Aberfeldy. We must ride 
 over there, Sir Paget, and I will show you 
 the cradle of the Black Watch, my old 
 regiment of immortal memory.' 
 
 'How?' 
 
 * It was first mustered there on the 25th 
 of October, 1739.' 
 
 'Ah!' said Sir Paget, who was not so
 
 THE CHAGEIN OF LOVE. 11 7 
 
 much interested in the matter as the 
 speaker. 
 
 Sir Paget was a childless widower, and 
 had been left a noble fortune in many 
 ways, including nearly the whole of 
 Slough-cum-Sloggit, of which his father 
 rose by his own merits to be mayor. He 
 had entered the town a tattered lad, with 
 only a sixpence in his pocket, and, in 
 due time, the sixpence became the basis 
 of colossal wealth. He had been made 
 a baronet by the ministry of the day — no 
 one knew precisely for what ; but the 
 wealth he left behind him gave his son 
 an interest in the eyes of Lady Aberfeldie 
 he was unlikely to attain in the soft hazel 
 orbs of her daughter. 
 
 Sir Paget generally stood with his chest 
 puffed out, reminding one of a pouter- 
 pigeon, his little, fat hands interlaced be- 
 hind his back, and often as not under 
 the tails of his coat, his round, good-
 
 118 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 humoured face and twinkling eyes turned 
 up to the faces of those with whom he 
 conversed, as most men, and women, too,- 
 had the advantage of him in stature. 
 
 With a gold pince-nez balanced on his 
 very pug nose, he was what young ladies 
 described as ' an absurd little man ' whose 
 tender speeches they laughed at — none 
 morq than Eveline — till matters took a 
 serious turn, though he failed to feel the 
 truth of the aphorism, 'Let no lover 
 cherish sanguine hopes when the object 
 of his choice has grown to look upon him 
 in the light of the ridiculous.' 
 
 Evan Cameron, we have said, sighed 
 for Eveline ; hopeless as his undeclared 
 love had been, the presence of the wealthy 
 English baronet, in conjunction with cer- 
 tain rumours he had heard, made it more 
 hopeless than ever ; and, unattractive 
 though Sir Paget's years and figure, he 
 felt intuitively that in him he had a 
 dangerous rival.
 
 THE CHAGRIN OF LOVE, 119 
 
 When be found that this most eligible 
 parti was again on the tapis — one whose 
 name had been associated with that of 
 Eveline in at least one ' society ' paper 
 during the last London season, poor Strath- 
 erroch's heart sank down to zero. He 
 felt and knew that, with Lady Aberfeldie 
 especially, he was literally ' nowhere ' by 
 his want of wealth, though, like a true 
 Highlander, he could trace his lineage 
 back into the misty times of Celtic an- 
 tiquity ; but, aristocratic though she was, 
 the peeress set little store on that. 
 
 Eveline Graham seemed as much beyond 
 his reach as the moon. He felt that, for 
 his own peace of mind, he ought to quit 
 Dundargue as soon as possible, yet he 
 clung desperately to the perilous delight 
 of the girl's society. 
 
 To all appearance, the pair were simply 
 lookiug over, almost in silence, a large 
 book of clear-skied and strongly-shadowed
 
 120 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 photos of Indian scenery brought home 
 by Allan, yet both their hearts had but a 
 single thought, and, when the downward 
 glance of his soft grey eyes met hers, she 
 felt that, in spite of herself, there was 
 something in it like a magnetic spell. 
 
 Passionate and pleading eyes they were, 
 generous and loving in expression, telling 
 the tale his lips had not yet uttered, and 
 might never do so ; and the girl lowered 
 her white lids as if a weight oppressed 
 them, and the diamond locket on her white 
 bosom sparkled as a sigh escaped her. 
 
 A little way off, in something of the 
 same pose, Ilawke Holcroft, with a glass 
 in his pale, sinister eye, was hanging, as 
 we have said, over Olive Raymond, doing 
 his utmost in sotlo voce to fascinate that 
 young lady, while pretending to translate, 
 as suited the occasion and himself, for the 
 edification of his fair listener, the letter- 
 ing of one of the Chinese or Japanese
 
 THE CHAGRIN OF LOVE. 121 
 
 fans tbat were strewed about the tables. 
 
 Now, Mr. Hawke Holcroffc knew nothing 
 about the terms of Mr. Raymond's will, or 
 of the existence of any such document, and 
 might never know. He was only certain 
 that Olive was undoubtedly an heiress ; 
 that he himself was very impecunious, and 
 ere long might be well-nigh desperate ; and 
 so he did not see why he should not, to 
 use his own horsey phraseology, * enter 
 stakes as well as another.' 
 
 Rumour, certainly, had linked the names 
 of the cousins together ; ^ but if she is en- 
 gaged to Graham,' thought the observant 
 Holcroft, ' it is strange that she wears no 
 engagement ring.' 
 
 lie knew not that, separated as the pair 
 had been almost from childhood, no such 
 little formality as the presentation of a 
 ring could have been gone through; and 
 7iow^ as the Master did not see his way to it 
 as yet, Holcroft was 'scoring,' or thought so.
 
 122 THE MASTER. OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 He was leaving nothiDg unsaid to en- 
 chain her attention. He seemed very 
 clever : at least he could converse fluently 
 on many subjects ; seemed to have been 
 everywhere and to have seen everything 
 worth seeing, or pretended to have done 
 so, which was most likely. 
 
 ' However they stand, her heart is not 
 in it,' was his ever-recurring thought ; ' and 
 if so, why the deuce shouldn't I try my 
 hand ? She has a pot of money — indeed, 
 no end of money, I hear; but, then, if her 
 noble aunt and uncle have made up their 
 noble minds to pounce upon her as a 
 daughter-in-law, how is she to resist, unless 
 she elopes, if " Barkis " (meaning Allan) 
 "is willin"? They can make her life a 
 burden to her until she gives in, or — or I 
 run away with her, and why the devil 
 should I not ?' 
 
 Holcroft was an artful man, and well 
 acquainted with every phase of dissipated
 
 THE OHAGEIN OF LOVE. 123 
 
 life ; he had suave mauners when he chose 
 and an unexceptionable appearance. With 
 many debts and secret passions, he was 
 cold and selfish ; a man who never made a 
 move in any way without forecast and cal- 
 culation ; and who might commit a crime 
 if driven to it, but never precisely a folly. 
 
 He was closely watchiug Olive while he 
 conversed with her ; he admired her beau- 
 tiful person, but still more her ample purse. 
 She dared to trifle with him at times, he 
 thought ; and then, even when looking 
 down upon her satin-like hair, her dazzliug 
 white shoulders and innocent violet eyes, 
 with a vengeful feeling he mentally vowed 
 that he would compel her to love him, or 
 accept him, he cared not which, if human 
 will and cunning failed him not ! 
 
 He had a love — a passion for her— in a 
 strange fashion of his own, yet times there 
 were when he almost hated her for fencing 
 with him ; and little could the soft, bright
 
 124 THE MASTEE OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 beauty, who raised her fine eyes from time 
 to time to his and conversed so laughingly 
 with him, have conceived the conflicting 
 emotions that were concealed in his breast 
 under a smiling exterior, or the shame and 
 agony he was yet to cost her. 
 
 Even when he attempted to look loving, 
 there were a cold expression and lack of 
 colour in his eyes, and there was some- 
 thing very significant of an iron will about 
 his lips and powerful chin. 
 
 Olive had no warm feeling for Holcroft, 
 and save for the obnoxious will would 
 infinitely have preferred her cousin Allan 
 in the end ; but she affected just then to 
 believe in Platonic friendship (blended 
 with a little judicious flirtation) so firmly 
 that, to pique Allan, she showed a great 
 apparent preference for his would-be 
 rival. 
 
 Olive and Holcroft knew that this seem- 
 ing flirtation was perilous work, and might
 
 THE CHAGEIN OF LOVE. 125 
 
 compromise them both with Lord and 
 Ladj Aberfeldie, and with Allan, too, if it 
 attracted attention ; but Holcroft had a 
 game to play. Olive's proud little heart 
 was full of resentment and pique, and then 
 anything with a spice of danger in it is 
 always curiously fascinating. 
 
 More than all, Olive was beginning to 
 feel conscious that, under the circum- 
 stances, it was strangely awkward to be in 
 the same house with Allan Graham — the 
 intended husband to whom her father had 
 bequeathed her. But whither could she 
 go? 
 
 In more than one instance, in the draw- 
 ing-room at Dundargue, that night was 
 illustrated the aphorism that language is 
 given us to conceal our thoughts, and 
 much was exhibited of what the French 
 not inaptly term the chagrin or peevishness 
 of love.
 
 126 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 LE CHAGRIN d'aMOUR. 
 
 Allan Graham, with all his quiefc and 
 growing love for Olive, seeing how she 
 received him, neither petted her as he was 
 wont to do in his boyhood, nor after a time 
 had attempted any tenderness with her ; 
 but trusted to the progress of events and 
 the necessity for fulfilling her father s wish 
 rather than to his own influence or power 
 of persuasion, aware that she could only 
 become the bride of another, penniless, or 
 nearly so, a circumstance which militated 
 sadly against himself. 
 
 But this assumed coldness and calmness
 
 LE CHAGEIN d'aMOUR. 127 
 
 withal, Olive could feel, with a woman's 
 acuteness in such matters, how much the 
 expression of his dark eyes and the tone 
 of his voice changed and softened, uncon- 
 sciously, when he looked at and addressed 
 her. She was of his own blood, like a 
 sister, whom he might treat with formality 
 or affection, coldly or playfully, according 
 to the occasion or the mood, and whom he 
 might love as much as he liked, or she 
 would permit. Ah ! this tender and 
 mysterious tie of cousinship must give 
 him, as he thought, 'a great pull' over 
 Hawke Holcroft, and every other man. 
 
 On this evening, how handsome she 
 looked, in all her wilfulness ! How Allan 
 longed that he might take her in his 
 embrace, to kiss her starry eyes, her 
 peach-like cheek, and sheeny hair with an 
 ardour he had never felt in his boyhood, 
 when he had done so mauy times ; but 
 now, somehow, he dared scarcely think of
 
 128 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 such a thing, and there was that fellow 
 Holcroft, with all his easy insouciance^ and 
 with the smile of one who never laughed 
 really in his life, hanging just rather too 
 much over her, with a considerable amount 
 of empressement in his eyes and manner, 
 pouring his flowery nothings into her 
 apparently willing ear, and Lady Aber- 
 feldie, who could stand this no longer, 
 became secretly provoked, and opened and 
 shut her fan of heavy mother-of-pearl with 
 such vehemence that the sticks rattled. 
 
 And, with the emotions we have de- 
 scribed in his heart, Allan, as if the further 
 to play out the game of cross-purposes, in 
 a spirit of pique, doubtless, remained in 
 close attendance on Miss Ruby Logan. 
 
 Now the latter was not the heiress of 
 Loganlee, as she had several brothers ; but, 
 even had she been so, it would not have 
 enhanced her value in the ambitious estima- 
 tion of Lady Aberfeldie.
 
 LE CHAGRIN D'AMOtJli. 129 
 
 But Ruby was a very handsome girl, 
 with a skin pure, transparent, and dehcate 
 as the lining of a shell, while her fine hair 
 was ample in quantity, and of the darkest 
 amber ; her eyes large, deep-blue, and 
 fringed by dark lashes. She was large, 
 full in form, and altogether a bright and 
 attractive-looking girl, and Olive felt con- 
 scious that she might prove rather a for- 
 midable rival if she ever had to view her as 
 such. 
 
 Replacing the three daughters of the 
 minister of Dundargue, who had been 
 a£Qicting the company with much boarding- 
 school Mozart and Chopin, who would have 
 deemed anything national vulgar, to say the 
 least of it, compared with some lachrymose 
 drawing-room ballad, and who in a ditty of 
 great length and mystery, which we quote at 
 second hand, had informed their hearers — 
 
 * Mermaids we be. 
 Under the blue sea ' — 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 replacing them, we say, E^uby Logan sang 
 to Allan in a rich mezzo-soprano voice, 
 and with a suppressed emotion, born per- 
 haps of a coquettish desire to dazzle and 
 please him, as a handsome young fellow of 
 good position, all of which proved a fresh 
 annoyance to my Lady Aberfeldie, who 
 deemed music at times ' a convenient noise 
 for drowning conversation, and under 
 whose shelter the old people talk scandal 
 and the young people make love,' and who 
 knew that Miss Logan, like Olive, had 
 that wonderful charm, which is, perhaps, 
 one of the greatest any girl can possess, a 
 lovely and ever-changing expression ; and 
 even Allan, as he gazed down into the 
 depths of her dark-blue eyes (while she 
 sang at him), and anon glanced furtively at 
 Olive, thought to himself, 
 
 ' How the dickens will our little game of 
 cross-purposes end ?' 
 
 Lady Aberfeldie was just then indulg-
 
 LE CHAGEIN d'aMOUR. 131 
 
 ing in the same surmise, as, full of watch- 
 fulness, she occupied an ottoman in the 
 centre of the inner drawing-room, cresting 
 up her white throat and well-shaped head ; 
 looking in her stately beauty like the 
 heroine of some grand old Scottish ro- 
 mance of the days of Montrose or Prince 
 Charles, for there was something of a past 
 age in her style and bearing, though 
 attired in the latest fashion by a modiste 
 of Princes Street. 
 
 In her matronhood, Lady Aberfeldie 
 had still that subdued charm which was 
 not now the beauty of youth, yet stood 
 very much in place of it ; but, with all her 
 softness of manner, she was a proud and 
 determined woman, capable of doing much 
 to accomplish a purpose of her own, and 
 the marriage of Eveline to Sir Paget 
 Puddicombe was certainly her purpose at 
 present. 
 
 Thinking that it was high time to make 
 
 k2
 
 132 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIE. 
 
 some change in the general grouping, the 
 moment Miss Logan's musical performance 
 was dene she summoned Allan to her side 
 by a wave of her fan. 
 
 ' So glad I am that your father, who so 
 often mistakes, invited dear Sir Paget 
 here,' she said, in low voice. 
 
 ' He is rather a good sort,' replied Allan, 
 in his off-hand way ; * capital cellar and 
 preserves, I have heard.' 
 
 ' So rich, and not very old ; he always 
 admired Eveline, and she certainly cares 
 for no one else — thus I have great hopes 
 for her, Allan,' she added, confidently ; but 
 Allan sighed ; he knew better, and recalled 
 the tears of his gentle sister on the ter- 
 race, and her half murmured admissions of 
 deep interest in that winsome young 
 brother-officer, whom he loved so well ; 
 and, as he remained silent, his mother 
 spoke again. 
 
 ' Mr. Holcrof t seems to be fairly absorb-
 
 LE CHAGRIN d'aMOUR. 133 
 
 ing Olive; be has been talking to her quite 
 long enough, and this will not do ; ask her 
 to play something at my request, and do 
 you lead her to the piano.' 
 
 ' We are anticipated,' said Allan, as he 
 saw his sister seat herself at the instru- 
 ment w^ith young Cameron by her side, 
 busy among the leaves of her music ; and 
 a shade of annoyance deepened in the face 
 of Lady Aberfeldie as she glanced at her 
 husband, whose eyes were turned also to- 
 wards the pair, and she knew from per- 
 sonal experience how much may be inferred 
 or deduced from the words of a song, and 
 also how many a tender speech, an accom- 
 paniment, however ill or well executed, 
 may conceal. 
 
 Lord Aberfeldie, of course, would never 
 consent to Eveline having a suitor wath 
 means so limited as those of her young 
 admirer; but, though the idea of such a 
 contingency had not occurred to him. Lady
 
 134 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 Aberfeldie was much sharper and more 
 suspicious ; she saw ' how the tide set,' 
 and was much opposed to Cameron being 
 even a visitor at Dundargue in any 
 way, as an utter 'detrimental,' and de- 
 clined to see how his being one o£ 
 ' Ours ' — the Black Watch — altered that 
 matter. 
 
 And now, after a considerable amount 
 of preluding, much unnecessary whisper- 
 ing, as ' my lady' thought, much glancing 
 and many reciprocal smiles, Evan Cameron 
 began to sing, accompanied by her daugh- 
 ter; and more annoyed became the matron 
 on finding the theme chosen one of love 
 and tenderness that could be, and was, 
 sung with considerable point — a now for- 
 gotten little Scotch song, which the author 
 adapted to the air of ' Rousseau's Dream,' 
 and with the desire to excel before the girl 
 he loved better than life, young Cameron 
 gave his whole soul to the lyric.
 
 LE CHAGRIN d'aMOUR. 135 
 
 * See the moon o'er cloudless Jura 
 
 Shining in the loch below ; 
 See the distant mountain towering 
 
 Like a pyramid of snow. 
 Scenes of grandeur — scenes of cliildhood — 
 
 Scenes so dear to love and me ! 
 Let us roam by bower and wild wood, 
 
 All is lovelier when with thee. 
 
 ' On Jura's hills the winds are sighing. 
 
 But all is silent in the grove ; 
 And the leaves with dewdrops glistening 
 
 Sparkle like the eye of love. 
 Night so calm, so clear, so cloudless. 
 
 Blessed night to love and me ; 
 Let us roam by bower and fountain, 
 
 All is lovelier when with thee* 
 
 And it was not unnoticed by Lady Aber- 
 feldie that at the closing word of each 
 verse the eyes of the pair unconsciously 
 met. Ere Eveline could be prevented, 
 •she had acceded to Cameron's softly utter- 
 ed desire that she would sing anything for 
 him ; and she frankly did so, throwing into 
 her voice the thrill and tenderness that 
 are sure to come into a ofirl's utterances
 
 136 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 when singing to the man she loves. The 
 heart of Cameron responded to this mys- 
 terious influence, and, as the girl regarded 
 him furtively from time to time, she 
 thought, with his crisp wavy hair, his clear 
 grey eyes, general expression and bearing, 
 he looked every inch what he was, the de- 
 scendant of that Sir Evan Cameron of 
 Lochiel who met Cromwell's men in com- 
 bat under the shadow of Ben Nevis ; yet 
 to other eyes he seemed just a good sample 
 of an infantryman who had across his fore- 
 head the genuine sunmark of his craft, 
 made under the line of his forage-cap by a 
 scorching tropical sun. 
 
 And now when Lady Aberfeldie, to stop 
 any more musical performances between 
 these two, prevailed upon Olive to replace 
 her cousin, she was quick enough to de- 
 tect that the former, displeased or piqued 
 by Allan's apparent attention to Ruby 
 Logan, swept past him with the most
 
 LE OHAGHIN d'aMOUR. 137 
 
 subtle little touch of disdain in the car- 
 riage of her handsome head. 
 
 Now Cameron had once more to give 
 place to pudgy little Sir Paget, who — puff- 
 ing out his chest and jerking forward his 
 bald shining head — began to do his best 
 to make himself pleasing to Eveline, while 
 the latter, under her mothers watchful 
 eye, was compelled to listen and appear to 
 act with compliance and complacency ; and 
 poor Eveline, like Olive, often felt with 
 some compunction that her mother's gene- 
 ral bearing — which a certain quiet yet 
 lofty dignity seemed never to forsake — 
 was more calculated to inspire respect than 
 love. 
 
 And Canneron, while he found himself 
 talking rather absently on regimental mat- 
 ters with Lord Aberfeldie, as he looked at 
 Eveline from time to time, was thinking 
 sadly in his honest heart, 
 
 ' Oh, what madness it is in me to love
 
 138 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIE^ 
 
 her as I do, and how wicked if I lure her 
 into loving me ! Can I expect her ambi- 
 tious mother or her calculating father ever 
 to view with favour one so penniless as I 
 am ? Would it be honourable in me to 
 profit by her girlish prepossession in my 
 favour, and so preclude her from reaping 
 those advantages of wealth, position, and 
 rank which she is entitled to expect, and 
 to which her parents looked forward ? and 
 alas ! as the wife of Sir Paget — if such be 
 her fate — poor Eveline will be lost for ever 
 to me.' 
 
 His breast felt torn by such thoughts 
 as these ; and, sooth to say, it is as often 
 amid the splendour and luxury of life, as 
 amid its squalor and poverty, that some of 
 its bitterest tragedies are acted out. 
 
 But now the party began to break up — 
 the ladies to seek their respective apart- 
 ments, and the gentlemen to adjourn for 
 a time to the smoking-room.
 
 LE CHAGRIN d'aMOUR. 139 
 
 As the two cousins, each so different in 
 her style of loveliness, crossed the great 
 apartment, the soft frou-frou of their long 
 silken dresses seemed to mingle with their 
 soft laughter and silvery voices. Sir Paget 
 jerked forward his head and remarked to 
 his hostess that 'they made a charming 
 picture.* 
 
 Each had a sore place in her heart, but 
 there was no appearance of it then. 
 
 Though resenting the position in which 
 
 she was placed, and much inclined to resist 
 
 it, Olive Raymond — such is female caprice 
 
 — also resented Allan's having hovered so 
 
 much about the amber-haired beauty, and, 
 
 when she bade him adieu for the night, 
 
 she could not help singing softly, with 
 
 some point and waggery, as she glanced 
 
 back at him, the lines of Tennyson's song : 
 
 * I know a maiden fair to see, 
 Take care ! 
 She can both false and friendly be, 
 
 Beware, beware ! 
 Trust her not, she is fooling thee.'
 
 140 THE MASTER OP ABERFELDIE. 
 
 But whether she applied the words to her- 
 self or Ruby Logan it puzzled him to divine. 
 
 Olive and Eveline were of an age, and 
 able to sympathise with each other in 
 every thought or fancy. They had grown 
 up together like sisters, Olive, as an 
 orphan, doubtless being the most petted 
 of the two by the household ever since she 
 came a little child to Dundargue, and both 
 were frank, both were open-hearted, and 
 proud of each other's personal attractions ; 
 and now, dismissing their maids, they 
 brushed out each other s shining hair that 
 they might have a quiet gossip together. 
 
 ' So ends a tiresome night/ said Eveline, 
 shrugging her white shoulders, which 
 shone like ivory in the light of the toilette 
 candles : ' a night when the conversation 
 of everyone seemed of a nature so antag- 
 onistic, or as if it was all broken up into 
 wrong duets.' 
 
 Like her father, Eveline was anxious to
 
 LE CHAGEIN d'aMOUR. 141 
 
 discover how the cousins were affected to- 
 wards each other now ; yet the course of 
 this evening, in which Allan had plainly 
 flirted with Ruby Logan, while Olive 
 seemed to have been engrossed by Mr. 
 Holcroft, did not seem to promise much, 
 and she hinted this pretty plainly. 
 
 ' I do think Holcroft loves me, or leads 
 me to infer that he does/ said Olive, with 
 a soft smile on her downcast face, as she 
 took off her rings, bangles, and bracelets, 
 and tossed them on the marble toilette- 
 table.' 
 
 ' And you — what is your feeling for 
 him?' asked Eveline, with some anxiety 
 in her face and tone ; ' not love, I hope.' 
 
 ' I don't know w^hat I feel — perhaps it 
 is only a girl's emotion of gratitude and 
 vanity.' 
 
 * I hope it will never be anything more. 
 You scarcely spoke to poor Allan to-night ?^ 
 said Eveline, interogatively.
 
 142 THE MASTEK OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 * Rather say he scarcely spoke to me I 
 But we are fated to see quite enough of 
 each other, I suppose/ replied Olive, as 
 with slender fingers she coiled and knotted 
 up the silky masses of her rich brown hair. 
 *How absurd it is,' she added, petulantly, 
 ' to think, as I have said a hundred times, 
 that I have a lover cut and dry for me — 
 Sb fiance — ever since he was in jackets and 
 knickerbockers !' 
 
 After a pause, during which she was 
 critically and approvingly regarding her- 
 self sideways in the swinging cheval-glass, 
 she said, 
 
 ' When I heard that he was returning 
 to Dundargue, I was quite prepared to 
 dislike him intensely.' 
 
 ' Olive !' 
 
 ' Fact, dear ; and since then he must 
 .have been sorely puzzled by my various 
 moods towards him.' 
 
 * You speak but with truth in this ; and
 
 LE CHAGRIN d'aMOUR. 143 
 
 yet he seems to have been somewhat the 
 same with you.' 
 
 ' Poor fellow — but ever so good and 
 kind; 
 
 ' And — and you think, Olive dear, that 
 you are beginning to love him as mamma 
 wishes?' 
 
 • Nay — nay, I cannot admit that.' 
 
 ' Even to me ?' said Eveline, caressing her. 
 
 ' Even to you. Did you not see his 
 manner to-night with Ruby Logan ?' 
 
 ' To pique you, if possible, Olive ; but 
 when Allan proposes to you, as I am sure 
 he will, and must do -' 
 
 ' Must do !' interrupted Olive. ' Yes — 
 there it is.' 
 
 'Well?' 
 
 ' Then, and in that case, as the will has 
 it, I shall tell him that, however I may 
 esteem and regard him as my cousin, he 
 can never be more, or nearer, or dearer 
 than as such.'
 
 144 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIE. 
 
 Eveline sighed and smiled ; but she told 
 this reply next day to Allan, and hence he 
 became less in a hurry to bring matters to 
 an issue, though love was growing in his 
 heart, nevertheless. 
 
 ' Oh, why is it that women cannot speak 
 their minds as men do ? I wish I dared 
 run away !' exclaimed the petulant beauty, 
 beating the carpet with a little impatient 
 foot. ' To-day I saw two great brown 
 eagles winging their way skyward from 
 the rock of Dundargue ; and oh ! Eveline, 
 you can't think how long and wistfully I 
 watched them till they dwindled into tiny 
 specks.' 
 
 ' Why ?' 
 
 ' They seemed such free agents, and, as 
 such, to be envied. They had no wills or 
 last testaments made by others to control 
 their actions — no parents to rule them in 
 the matters of love and marriage.' 
 
 * How droll you are, Olive ! To whom
 
 LE CHAGEIN d'aMOUE. 145 
 
 but you would such speculations occur? 
 I hope you did not express them to — = 
 to ' 
 
 ' Allan ?' 
 
 ' Yes; 
 
 'Not to Allan.' 
 
 ' To whom then ?' 
 
 ' Mr. Holcroft.' 
 
 ' Then, you were very wrong to do so/ 
 said Eveline, almost severely ; * he will be 
 certain to draw his own deductions there- 
 from.' 
 
 ' In something else I was, I fear, wrong 
 too.' 
 
 ' How ?' 
 
 ' I permitted him to try one of my gold 
 bangles — one sent me by Allan from Delhi 
 — on his arm, and it would not come off 
 again.' 
 
 ' And the bangle ?"' 
 
 ' Is still tbere,' said Olive, laughing, but 
 not without a little emotion of alarm. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE MASTER OF ABEREELDIE. 
 
 ' Oh, Olive !' exclaimed Eveline, witli 
 somethiDg of dismay, ^ how could you ? 
 This is worse than the photo.'
 
 147 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE }IIDING-PARTY. 
 
 For some time the days passed on as they 
 generally do in a country-house like Dun- 
 dargue, and there was all the usual flow 
 of life and — with three exceptions, Sir 
 Paget, Holcroft, and Cameron — change of 
 guests and visitors, with the amusements 
 wealth can give. 
 
 First came the partridge-shooting, and 
 then the pheasants were to be knocked 
 over, while the ladies drove almost daily 
 to the preserves with the luncheon in the 
 drag or large pony-carriage ; there were 
 hunting days, dinners, luncheons, musical 
 
 l2
 
 148 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 evenings, carpet dances, and so forth, and 
 the inevitable lawn-tennis, with the ladies 
 in bewitching costumes ; but still Allan, 
 damped perhaps by his sister's communica- 
 tions, ' made no way ' with his tantalising 
 cousin, and Hawke Holcroft, on Lord 
 Aberfeldie's invitation, was still lingering 
 at Dundargue. 
 
 To Allan, Olive had become a part of 
 his life, and each day seemed only to begin 
 when he met her at breakfast in her 
 charming morning toilette, fresh from her 
 bath and the hands of Mademoiselle Clair- 
 ette, her hair dressed to perfection, and 
 her face radiant with health and beauty. 
 
 ' How often do T wish she had not a 
 sous /' sighed Allan. ' Then she might 
 learn that I love her for herself alone.' 
 
 The curious position in which they were 
 placed relatively made the cousins most 
 strange to each other, involving much 
 constraint.
 
 THE RIDING-PAETY. 149 
 
 ' They are fencing with their feelings,' 
 was Lord Aberfeldie's conviction. 
 
 To Evan Cameron, however, it was evi- 
 dent that Holcroft was * making all the 
 running he could ' during Allan's absences 
 after the game, or apparent occupation 
 with laughing Ruby Logan, while it became 
 evident to Sir Paget and more than one 
 other guest that he got up many a quiet 
 game at ecarte — that most rooking of all 
 games — and many a match at billiards 
 after the ladies had retired ; and it was 
 soon remarked by the same close observers 
 that he was a singularly successful player, 
 often pocketing large sums, seldom losing, 
 and then very slenderly, as if to keep up 
 appearances. 
 
 At Dundargue he felt himself in clover ! 
 He knew, or was aware instinctively, that 
 neither Lady Aberfeldie nor the Master 
 cared much about him ; but he also knew 
 that his host was inspired by the kindliest
 
 150 THE MASTER OF ABERPELDIE. 
 
 feeliDgs towards him as the only son of an 
 early friend and gallant old Crimean com- 
 rade who had gone to his long home. 
 
 If any rule governed the erratic life of 
 the horsey and gambling Holcroft, it was 
 that of resolutely shutting his eyes against 
 to-morrow, and letting it take care of 
 itself ; and, now that there was a prospect 
 of winning a wife with money — and such 
 a chance seldom came his way — could he 
 but play his cards well and surely, his 
 fortune would be made ! 
 
 He was a mass of absolute selfishness — 
 the result either of his innate nature or of 
 his nomadic habits. A life-long bankrupt, 
 he had been ever readier to borrow than 
 to lend, to smoke any other fellow's cigars 
 than his own, and to take every advantage 
 of the honourable and unsuspecting. 
 
 Such was the perilous inmate which a 
 mistaken sense of kindness, gratitude, and 
 hospitality had induced Lord Aberfeldie to
 
 THE EIDING-PARTY. 151 
 
 make one of the family circle at Dundar- 
 gue during the shooting season; and to 
 whom the advent of the bangle — which, 
 though it slipped easily upon his wrist, 
 most mysteriously would not come oS it — 
 and other adventitious circumstances, the 
 real cause of which he did not know, gave 
 a considerable amount of what he termed 
 to himself ' modest assurance ' and con- 
 fidence of ultimate success. 
 
 ' I should like to come into a nice little 
 pot of money — a fortune, if you will — but 
 7iot with a girl tacked to it,' he said, on 
 one occasion, to throw Allan ' off the 
 scent,' as he thought. ' I am neither do- 
 mestic nor ambitious. A few thousands 
 w^ould do.' 
 
 ' And make you content ?' 
 
 * Content ! I should feel as happy as 
 more than once I have been at Monaco, 
 when I have seen the croupier's rake 
 pushing a jolly pile of gold across the
 
 152 THE MASTEE OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 trente'et-quarante table towards me, bj 
 Jove.' 
 
 It did not occur to him that by little 
 speeches like this and anecdotes about his 
 own acumen in the bettiug rin^, he let a 
 little light in upon the general tenor of 
 his past and present life, and, all uncon- 
 scious that Sir Paget and others listened 
 with slightly elevated eyebrows, he would 
 produce a sealskin cigar-case of portentous 
 dimensions, draw therefrom a great Eio 
 Hondo cigar, and after carefully manipu- 
 lating it, begin to smoke it with intense 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Hawke Holcroft, like Mr. Micawber, 
 was always waiting for something to ^ turn 
 up ' in the way of good for himself, and 
 now thought he had found that something 
 in Olive Kaymond — an heiress free, he 
 deemed, to choose for herself — free to be 
 wooed and won ; and on a day when she 
 proposed a riding-party to visit Macbeth's
 
 THE EIDTNG-PARTy. . 153 
 
 Castle of Dunsinane he very nearly had 
 the hardihood to learn his fate — in the 
 words of Montrose's song, to put it ' to the 
 touch, to win or lose it all.' 
 
 Drives, riding-parties, and rambles to 
 visit artistic bits of scenery and the rural 
 lions the neighbourhood afforded every 
 opportunity to those who wished to culti- 
 vate each other's society at Dundargue, 
 and the expedition proposed by Olive to 
 visit the ruins of the ursurper's castle, 
 proved the occasion of Mr. Hawke Hol- 
 croft's attempt to advance his own in- 
 terests. 
 
 Whatever Lady Aberfeldie's views were, 
 her husband had never been called upon 
 to fulfil the duties of a vigilant guardian 
 or parent, and to study the difference be- 
 tween ' detrimentals ' and married parties, 
 so he left the o-uidance of the whole affair 
 in the hands of Allan, and remained clos- 
 eted with his solicitor.
 
 154 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 By judicious manoeuvring, Holcroft con- 
 trived to pair- off with Olive, wliile Allan 
 thus became the escort of Ruby Logan, 
 and Eveline, of course, fell to Sir Paget, 
 who soon found the truth of the vulgar 
 adage about two being company, &c., on 
 their being joined by Stratherroch. 
 
 It was a clear and brilliant day early in 
 October, when the blue sky was flecked 
 by fleecy clouds, and the far -stretching 
 scenery of the fertile Carse, overlooked 
 by the long chain of heights, named the 
 Sidlaw Hills, lay steeped in sunshine. 
 
 The parks of Dundargue, with their 
 broad acres of velvet-like turf, their stately 
 oaks and towering beeches, among the gnarl- 
 ed branches of which legions of gleds were 
 cawing to each other, and brown squirrels 
 were gliding to and fro ; their hedges of 
 ancient thorn, and others where the 
 hawthorn berries showed red and the wild 
 roses were blooming — the parks, we say,
 
 THE El DING-PARTY. 155 
 
 were left behind, with all their groups of 
 deer, and the party, certainly a merry and 
 a well-mounted one, accompanied by the 
 staghounds Shiuloch and Bran, careering 
 joyously on either hand, followed by a 
 couple of splendidly-horsed grooms, can- 
 tered along the highway, and ere long 
 broke, or fell, into that slow and ambling 
 pace which is suited for conversing with 
 ease. And Holcroft, who was well versed 
 in all horsey details, and had a very 
 appreciative eye, could see that his fair 
 companion's tout ensemble^ her riding 
 costume, her hat, veil, and gauntlets were 
 all perfect, from the coils of brown glossy 
 hair to the little foot that rested j&rmly in 
 its tiny stirrup of burnished steel ; and 
 that foot was indeed a model — arched, 
 small, and always full of character in its 
 elasticity of tread ; and, more than all, 
 intoxicated by the ambient air, the 
 sunshine, her own high spirits, and the
 
 156 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 pleasure of bein^ mounted on her own 
 favourite pad, Olive Eaymond was looking 
 her brightest and her best. 
 
 He had, while engaging all her attention 
 in conversation, contrived, unknown to 
 her, by the pacing of his horse, to leave 
 the trio referred to at some distance be- 
 hind ; while, luckily for him, Allan Gra- 
 ham, lured on by Euby Logan — who was 
 something between a flirt and a hoyden — 
 had gone ahead with her suddenly at a 
 hand-gallop, and now the pair were out of 
 sight. 
 
 There could be no engagement, despite 
 all rumour thereof — not even a passing 
 fancy — between the cousins, was now 
 Holcroft's conviction, and of his own ulti- 
 mate success with Olive he began to have 
 little doubt, could he but warily mould her 
 to his purpose; and already in fancy he 
 saw her thousands — how many there were 
 he knew not — firmly in his grasp.
 
 THE EIDINa-PAETY. 157 
 
 Though swallowed up by mortgages, 
 his place in Essex — or the few acres that 
 nominally still remained to him there — 
 caused the retention of his name among 
 the ' landed gentry of England,' and he 
 based much upon that circumstance as 
 aiding his designs on Lord Aberfeldie's 
 ward, to whom he had sometimes dropped 
 glowing hints of possession that were not 
 nor ever had been his. 
 
 Something undefined in Olive's manner 
 rather encouraged him on this day. She, 
 to show that she resented the apparent 
 indifference of Allan as being a ' laggard 
 in love,' even while resenting the tenor of 
 that family compact which was meant to 
 bind them together, was disposed to flirt 
 with Holcroft, out of pique rather than 
 precise preference, and to annoy Allan. 
 
 With the latter present now, Holcroft 
 became at times a species of difficulty to 
 Olive. During a past season in London
 
 158 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 there had been sundry, not exactly love- 
 passages, but little coquettings and linger- 
 ings in conservatories that nearly amounted 
 to such ; and he, in ignorance of the foot- 
 ing in which she was regarded by the 
 family, was quite inclined, penniless as he 
 was, or nearly so, to revive, if not im- 
 prove, past relations ; and this had been 
 his object from the first day he came to 
 Dundargue. 
 
 And now 'that muscular idiot the Mas- 
 ter,' as he was in the habit of mentally 
 calling Allan, having cantered out of sight, 
 he addressed himself more fully to his 
 companion and the matter in hand. 
 
 ' I enjoy town to the full — none can do 
 so more — when I am there, but I love — 
 oh, I do love — the country !' replied Olive, 
 in reply to a remark of Holcroft's about 
 their last London season. 
 
 ' It is always very romantic, of course, 
 and all that sort of thing.'
 
 THE EIDING-PARTY. 159 
 
 *And with pleasant people about one, 
 the country becomes so delightful for a 
 time ; and then we girls have such perfect 
 freedom here.' 
 
 ^ Even an escort is not necessary at 
 times/ 
 
 'Unless in the park — beyond that I 
 always like to have one,' said Olive. 
 
 ' Are you pleased to have iiie for one ?' 
 he asked, in a low voice, and pretty 
 pointedly. 
 
 ' Of course,' she answered, frankly. 
 
 ' How charming to be at hand in case 
 of danger !' 
 
 ' What possible danger ?' asked Olive, 
 with surprise. 
 
 ' Oh, the untimely appearance of an in- 
 furiated stag or the proverbial mad bull 
 of the three-volume novel.' 
 
 ' "Why not a brigand or a Bengal tiger ?' 
 said Olive, laughing ; then, suddenly be- 
 coming grave, she added — ' But, by the
 
 160 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIE. 
 
 way, talking of Bengal, please to give me 
 back my bangle.' 
 
 * Why ?' 
 
 ' Simply because I cannot permit you 
 to retain it,' she replied, little foreseeing 
 to what the natural request might lead. 
 
 ' Do not deprive me of it !' he urged, 
 softly and entreatingly. 
 
 * Why ?' asked she, in return ; ' for what 
 reason. It is impossible — what may peo- 
 ple say ?' 
 
 ' What they please, if seen, which it 
 never shall be.' 
 
 ' What might they not think ?' 
 
 ' Oh, what does it matter ?' he urged 
 again, with much would-be sadness and 
 tenderness. 
 
 ' Little to you, perhaps, but much to 
 me,' retorted Olive ; ^ but I do not choose 
 that aught should be either thought or said 
 about it. We shall certainly be accused of 
 flirting.'
 
 THE EIDING-PARTT. 161 
 
 * No, no, Miss Raymond — ob, no, 
 Olive ' 
 
 * Olive !' she repeated, in a startled 
 manner. 
 
 'Pardon me — none could ever accuse 
 me of flirting with you — that were an im- 
 possibility — for deeper thoughts ' 
 
 ^ My bangle, please, Mr. Holcroft, and at 
 once !' she said, imperatively, in dread of 
 what more he might say. 
 
 She held forth her hand, but the trinket 
 either would not come off his wrist, or he 
 pretended that such was the case. Olive 
 tried to remove it, but in vain, and glanc- 
 ed round her, red with vexation. Her 
 hand was gloved, otherwise she would 
 have felt how unpleasantly cold and clam- 
 my were the fingers of her would-be 
 lover. 
 
 'Allow me to retain it, even for a time 
 — though would that I might wear it in 
 my grave — for a time, in memory of the 
 
 VOL. T. M
 
 162 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 darling hopes I have dared to cherish,' he 
 whispered, in a manner there could be no 
 mistaking now. 
 
 * Spare me this melodramatic sort of 
 thing, Mr. Holcroft/ said Olive, growing 
 rather pale ; ' I cannot — must not listen 
 to you.' 
 
 ' Why — what do you mean ?' 
 
 * That there are obstacles between us, 
 even were there not the want of liking,' 
 she replied, decidedly, but with an agitated 
 voice. 
 
 * Obstacles?' he repeated, inquiringly, 
 
 sadly, and certainly with an air of disap* 
 
 pointment; 'ami now to understand that 
 
 you are engaged to the Master of Aberfel- 
 
 die, as these absurd Scots people call him ?' 
 
 Olive bit her ruddy nether lip at this 
 home question ; but made no reply. 
 
 ' What enigma is this ? You either are 
 or you are not. If not, why may not I ' 
 
 ' I dare not listen to this style of con-
 
 THE EIDING-PARTY. 163 
 
 versation,' interrupted Olive, with positive 
 annoyance ; ' and you have no right to 
 force it upon me.' 
 
 ' After all that has passed ?' said he, 
 reproachfully, and rather feeling as if his 
 hopes were melting into air. 
 
 ' I do not understand you,' replied Olive, 
 whose conscience certainly did reproach 
 her. 
 
 * If I force this conversation — ' he began 
 in a bitter and rather upbraiding tone, 
 then pausing ; ' pardon me if I offend,' he 
 resumed, with what seemed growing sad- 
 ness, while attempting to touch her hand, 
 yet withdrawing his own in apparent tim- 
 idity. ' But am I wrong in deeming your 
 engagement — or alleged engagement, as 
 rumour says, made when you were a child 
 — one in which your woman's heart and 
 wishes have not been consulted ? Tell me 
 — for 1 may have to leave Dundargue soon 
 now.' 
 
 M 2
 
 164 THE MASTER OF ABEREELDIE. 
 
 She was in some respects but a weak 
 girl ; he a crafty and wily man of the 
 world ; and, though he knew it not in the 
 least, he was touching her on a very ten- 
 der point — yet she replied, firmly enough, 
 
 ' You have no right to question me ; but 
 say, what has Allan done to you that your 
 face should darken at the mention of his 
 name ? Is he not your friend ?' 
 
 * He was.' 
 
 * And now ' 
 
 ' He is no longer so.' 
 'Why?' 
 
 * He is my rival.' 
 
 She coloured to her temples at this 
 blunt reply, and all it inferred. 
 
 ' I loved you long before you ever cared 
 for me,' he resumed, coolly. 
 
 * Sir — how dare you say I ever cared for 
 you?' exclaimed Olive, her cheeks aflame 
 now; 'let this subject cease, and be re- 
 sumed no more !'
 
 THE EIDING-PAETY. 165 
 
 ' It breaks my heart to bear you speak 
 thus.' 
 
 ' Hearts don't break now-a-days, even in 
 such romantic places as Dundargue,' said 
 she, with a sharp little laugh ; ' and here 
 this matter ends.' 
 
 He bowed in silence ; but, fatally per- 
 haps for Allan's interests and her own, she 
 thought, and her vanity was flattered by 
 the idea : 
 
 ' Holcroft loves me, despite the tenor of 
 papa's will — loves me, for myself, of 
 course ; while Allan knoivs its value to 
 himself ! Surely there is a difference in 
 this !' 
 
 But it was precisely because Holcroft 
 knew neither of the will nor its spirit that 
 he took the courage to address her as he 
 did. Had he done so, that enterprising 
 gentleman would speedily have ' dropped 
 out of the hunt,' and, so far as he is con- 
 cerned, we should then have no story to tell.
 
 1 66 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 Meanwhile he did not lose heart, and 
 thought he had only to wait the fulness of 
 time for the certainty of winning her, and 
 with her, wealth — ^of joy or happiness he 
 took no heed at all. 
 
 By this time, greatly to Olive's relief, 
 Eveline and her two swains had overtaken 
 them, and so the matter dropped, though 
 the minds of both, from two points of 
 view, were full of it. She would now 
 have to endure the double annoyance of 
 being daily in the society of a lover who 
 had addressed her as such, and of an 
 intended lover who had scarcely yet ap- 
 proached the subject ! 
 
 And, for some reason only known to her- 
 self, she did not tell Eveline, though her 
 bosom-friend, of what had passed between 
 herself and Holcroft. The latter, how- 
 ever, still retained the golden bangle on 
 which her name was engraved ; but for a 
 time now there was something in her
 
 THE EIDING-PARTY. 167 
 
 manner little to the liking of Hawke Hol- 
 croft — full as he was of dreams of her, or 
 of her fortune rather — of the risks he ran, 
 and the shifts to which he might be put 
 ere he handled it.
 
 168 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE PICNIC AT DUNSINANE. 
 
 Ambling on together and urging their 
 horses, but at an easy pace, they soon 
 drew near the object of their destination — 
 Macbeth's famous castle of Dunsinane — 
 whither the portly old butler, Mr. Tapple- 
 ton, had preceded them in a wagonette, 
 freighted with a luxurious luncheon ; and, 
 leaving their cattle in charge of the grooms, 
 they began the ascent of that peak of the 
 Sidlaw Hills which has been immortalised 
 by Shakespeare. 
 
 With her riding-skirt thrown over her 
 left arm, Eveline acted as their guide, and
 
 THE PICNIC AT DUNSINANE. 169 
 
 it may easily be supposed that she solicited 
 the assistance of Cameron's arm, rather 
 than that of Sir Paget Puddicombe, who 
 had quite enough to do in assisting himself 
 up a path vv'hich proved to him, as he said, 
 ^ rather a breather.' 
 
 It was a winding road cut in the rock, 
 all the other sides being steep and difficult 
 of access, and ere long, on reaching the 
 flat and fertile summit, which commands a 
 magnificent view of Strathmore and Blair- 
 gowrie, they found themselves within the 
 strong rampart and deep fosse of what has 
 once been a great military station of oval 
 form, two hundred and ten feet long, by 
 one hundred and thirty broad ; and there 
 they found Allan and Ruby Logan, who 
 had preceded them, in full possession of 
 the highest point, whence he was directing 
 her attention to the chief features in the 
 scenery, including, of course, Birnam 
 Wood, fifteen miles distant, ' The Lang
 
 170 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 Man's Grave,' a great stone, under wliicli 
 Macbeth is said to lie — Ruby the while 
 clinofinof to his arm in the exuberance of 
 her delight, and carrying her riding-hat 
 in her hand, as she was quite aware that 
 her hair alone, in its wonderful luxuriance, 
 made her very attractive, it being an un- 
 ruly mass of rich, rippling golden amber in 
 hue, shot with a redder and brighter tint 
 at times when the sunlight struck it. 
 
 Under the splendour of a glorious noon, 
 while a soft breeze rippled the verdant 
 grass, the luncheon was proceeded with ; 
 fowls were dissected, pies investigated, 
 champagne and hock, cool from the ice- 
 pails, uncorked ; all the requisites for a 
 merry party were there, and yet in the 
 party itself the chief element of high 
 spirits was wanting, unless in the instance 
 of Euby Logan, who began to flatter her- 
 self that she had made — or nearly so — a 
 conquest of the Master of Aberfeldie.
 
 THE PICNIC AT DDNSINANE. l7l 
 
 Oppressed with the tenor of the con- 
 versation that had so recently passed 
 between herself and Mr. Holcroft, Olive 
 Kaymond was unusually silent, and, for 
 her, distraite; and he, remembering the 
 somewhat decided ' snub ' she had so un- 
 expectedly given him, was somewhat silent 
 too, but sought consolation in champagne, 
 while listening rather abstractedly to Sir 
 Paget Puddicombe descanting on the tra- 
 ditions of the neighbourhood, as, in guide- 
 book fashion, he knew all about the 
 predictions of the weird sisters, the defeat 
 and death of the usurper, and was full of 
 the probability that the great dramatist 
 had visited Dunsinane in person. 
 
 But Holcroft only quaffed his liquor, 
 tugged his tawny moustache from time to 
 time, and listened with an air of boredom, 
 mingled with a quizzical expression of 
 mistrust in his pale grey shifty eyes. 
 
 He had seen Macbeth on the stage, of
 
 172 THE MASTER OP ABEREELDIE. 
 
 course, and endured him more than once ; 
 but of the Thane of Cawdor he knew no 
 more than what he had seen of him behind 
 the footlights, and had cared to learn no 
 more ; and now it was with some genuine 
 Cockney bewilderment, as he looked at 
 the massive trenches around him, he began 
 to think that ' some such fellow had existed 
 then.' 
 
 Eveline and young Cameron, under Sir 
 Paget's eye, were both reserved and triste, 
 and no wine seemed capable of rousing 
 animation in the lover. He had but one 
 thought — the end of his leave was ap- 
 proaching, and when he left Dundargue 
 he might never again see Eveline Graham. 
 His heart was heavy. 
 
 When the trio were riding together, it 
 was not that the eyes of Eveline disap- 
 pointed him, or that she did not converse 
 with him fully and earnestly ; but he had 
 detected in the manner of Sir Paget a pro-
 
 THE PICNIC AT DUNSINANE. 173 
 
 vokiDg air of proprietary and confidence 
 with regard to her that keenly piqued him, 
 and could only have been born, he rightly 
 conjectured, of some recent confidential 
 arrangement with Lord Aberfeldie ; but 
 the young girl herself was sweetly uncon- 
 scious of it all. 
 
 His responses had been brief, and he 
 had ventured on few remarks, aware that 
 little would escape unnoticed ; thus he had 
 been somewhat silent, while Sir Paget's 
 easy-going old roadster ambled between 
 the horses of himself and Eveline, going 
 pace for pace, Sir Paget's head at each 
 jerking forward in turtle fashion. 
 
 The trio still remained together when 
 seated on the grass at luncheon, for 
 neither of the gentlemen were disposed 
 to quit the side of Eveline, whose colour 
 might have been noticed to heighten at 
 a question Sir Paget asked Cameron, of 
 whom he certainly had a certain jealousy.
 
 174 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 ' Where does your property of Strather- 
 roch lie, Mr. Cameron ?' 
 
 ' In Inverness-shire.' 
 
 ' Ah ! — mountainous, of course — good 
 shooting for those who care for such 
 things — not that I do. Is the land very 
 remunerative now ?' 
 
 ' To others — not to me,' said Cameron, 
 a little bitterly. ' A fair inheritance would 
 be mine, Sir Paget, were Stratherroch 
 unencumbered. My father was a wild 
 fellow in his day — as what Highland laird 
 is not ? How some acres were mortgaged 
 in succession, how others went in ioto, 
 heaven only knows — I don't. The estate 
 is at nurse now ; one day it will be mine 
 again — but not for years ; and I was too 
 long foolishly sentimental about it.' 
 
 ' How ?' asked Sir Paget. 
 
 ' I thought I would rather that the manor- 
 house fell to ruins than pass, even tem- 
 porarily, into the possession of strangers
 
 THE PICNIC AT DUNSINANE. 175 
 
 — of others than a Cameron ; and now, by 
 Jove ! it has been for years occupied by 
 one Jones Smithson, of Manchester.' 
 
 * Whose rental is clearing it ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; and meantime I have little more 
 in this world than my claymore and com- 
 mission in the Black Watch,' said Cameron, 
 with a somewhat hollow laugh and a swift, 
 sad glance at Eveline ; while Sir Paget 
 smiled complacently as he thought of the 
 balance at his bankers, and the fat, un- 
 fettered acres that lay round Slough-cum- 
 Sloggit. 
 
 ' I hope you do not find Dundargue dull, 
 Sir Paget ?' said Eveline, to change a con- 
 versation that rather oppressed her, as she 
 was sharp enough to divine the thoughts 
 of both men. 
 
 ' Assuredly not, Miss Graham ; how 
 could it be so when I am enabled to renew 
 my intimacy with one who can cast, as it 
 were, bright sunshine in the most shady
 
 ] 76 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 place ?' he replied, witb an unusual jerk of 
 his head, a glance of eye, and accentuation 
 of voice that annoyed her greatly, while 
 Cameron's lip quivered under his moustache 
 with mingled irritation and amusement. 
 
 And now at luncheon, inspired by a few 
 bumpers of Clicquot, Sir Paget's glances at 
 Eveline took occasionally the fashion of 
 grotesque and languishing leers. 
 
 The wealthy baronet was older than she 
 by a great many years, but they by no 
 means warranted him being safe from a 
 love, or passion rather, that might prove 
 cruel as the grave — the passion of a middle- 
 aged man for a very handsome young girl, 
 whose parents were f ally disposed to fur- 
 ther his views and their own. It has been 
 said that ' people for the life of them 
 cannot be said to believe in the love pangs 
 of a man over forty, or of a woman over 
 twenty-nine,' but people may at times be 
 wrong.
 
 THE PICNIC AT DUNSINANE. 177 
 
 The present epoch was rather a trying 
 one to Cameron and Eveline. As she had 
 admitted to Allan, she knew that he loved 
 her with a love unselfish and unspoken ; 
 and he felt intuitively that he was far from 
 indifferent to her — knew it by the inde- 
 scribable, untaught, and nameless signs by 
 which a man learns instinctively that a 
 woman loves him — in a first passion, a 
 most intoxicating conviction ; yet circum- 
 stances blended the happiness of Cameron 
 with much that was alloy. 
 
 To avoid attentions or would-be tender 
 speeches that might annoy poor Cameron, 
 Eveline found herself compelled to talk 
 intently to Sir Paget about local traditions 
 and superstitions, and, thanks to her old 
 nurse Nannie, she had — for a fashionable 
 young lady of the present day — a curious 
 repertoire of stories about wraiths and 
 warnings, Daione Shi and other fairies, 
 who were wont in pre-railway times to 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIE. 
 
 haunt tlie corries, cairns, and rocks. 
 
 ' Have you no gliosis in or about Dun- 
 dargue ?' asked Sir Paget. ' A grand old 
 mansion is scarcely complete without some 
 such spectral visitor.' 
 
 ' Surely that oubliette, whatever it is, of 
 which J have heard more than once, must 
 contain something of the kind ?' said Hol- 
 croft, in a covert, but detestable kind of 
 sneering tone, which he could adopt when 
 his own interests were not concerned. 
 
 ' In the gallery that leads to it I have 
 heard of something strange,' said Allan. 
 
 ' Oh, do tell us — what is seen there ?' 
 exclaimed Ruby Logan. 
 
 * Nothing — but old servants have a story 
 to the effect that if anyone remains long 
 there,' replied Allan, laughing, ' they are 
 certain to have a strong sense of shadowy 
 forms — intangible presences — hovering 
 near them, and dare not turn their heads 
 to see what they are.'
 
 THE PICNIC AT DUNSINANE. 179 
 
 *We have no decided ghosts, thank 
 Heaven !' said Eveline, laughing-, and all 
 unconscious of Holcroft's manner. ' There 
 are none even in the palaces of Holjrood 
 or Falkland, where terrible things have 
 been done, so why should there be in poor 
 old Dundargue ? But a spot close by 
 where we are now lunching is the alleged 
 scene of a curious event — a ver}^ dark 
 tradition in our family history.' 
 
 ' Why recur to a story so absurd ?' said 
 Allan. 
 
 But she was pressed to explain herself, 
 and with a shy, sweet smile in her eyes 
 as she glanced from time to time at Evan 
 Cameron, and a wonderfully musical modu- 
 lation of voice, she told her tale, but not 
 quite as old nurse Nannie had told it to 
 her. 
 
 ' The deep, rocky dell that lies between 
 this and Dundargue, a few miles distant, 
 was ever in past times what we find it 
 
 N 2
 
 ISO THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 now, covered with dense forest-trees, ming- 
 led with alders and silver birches so thick- 
 ly as to exclude the rays of the sun, and 
 it was said to be the haunt of a Urisk or 
 mountain-goblin — a species of fiend which, 
 Sir Walter Scott says, tradition avers to 
 have had a figure half-man and half-goat.' 
 
 ' In short, the Grecian satyr of classical 
 antiquity,' said Allan, laughing. 
 
 ' Be that as it may, the existence of this 
 particular Urisk was never fairly proved 
 until the days of one of our ancestors, 
 Malise Graham of Dundargue, who fought 
 at the battle of Ben Einnes against the 
 Reformers, and had in hiding in the 
 '* Priest's Hole," as it is still called, in 
 the keep, a wandering Scottish Benedic- 
 tine, known only as James of Jerusalem. 
 
 ' Now, Malise Graham had an only 
 daughter, Muriel, a girl possessed of that 
 rare and soft beauty- ' 
 
 ' Which is still the inheritance of her
 
 THE PICNIC AT DUNSINANE. 181 
 
 family,' said Sir Paget, with a most por- 
 tentous jerk of his head. 
 
 ' Please not to interrupt me, or I shall 
 stop,' exclaimed Eveline, with unconcealed 
 annoyance. ' Muriel, in her walks near 
 Dundargue, had made — unknown to her 
 family — the acquaintance of a handsome 
 young stranger of winning manners and 
 prepossessing appearance. 
 
 ' In the secluded life led in those days 
 by a maiden of rank, such an event was 
 of deep and peculiar interest ; love speedi- 
 ly became the sequel, and in truth the 
 object of it seemed to have been a very 
 Iqveable fellow. Thus it was, with many 
 bitter tears, that one evening she told him 
 that her frequent absence from home had 
 been remarked, and that she must meet 
 him no more in that wooded hollow, especi- 
 ally as it was the haunt of goblins and 
 other evil spirits. 
 
 ' On hearing this, the handsome stranger
 
 182 TEE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 laughed till all the dell seemed to re-echo, 
 caressed her tenderly, and, after urging her 
 on peril of her truth and soul to come 
 to the trysting-place at least once again, 
 left her in haste, as some one was seen to 
 approach them. 
 
 ' This proved to be James of Jerusa- 
 lem, who is still remembered as the Black 
 Priest of Dundargue. He wore nothing 
 that was canonical ; to have done so 
 would have been as much as his life was 
 worth in those days ; thus he was clad in 
 a sable Geneva cloak and doublet, with 
 falling bands, and a calotte cap of black 
 velvet with long lappets. 
 
 'He looked deadly pale, and was tremb- 
 ling in every limb, while he crossed him- 
 self again and again, and said, in a low and 
 agitated voice, 
 
 ' ^' Child Muriel, who is he that left you 
 in such hot haste just now ?" 
 
 ' But Muriel,
 
 THE PICNIC AT DUNSINANE. 183 
 
 " Crimson T\^th shame, with terror mute," 
 
 terror of her father, who was a stern and 
 rigid man, remained silent. 
 
 ' " Speak, unhappy girl !" urged the 
 priest. 
 
 '"I know not his name," she replied, 
 faintly. 
 
 "^Why?" 
 
 ' " He conceals it from me." 
 
 *'^ And why?" 
 
 ' " I know not ; but oh, father, guide and 
 counsel me, for I love him dearly, as he 
 loves me." 
 
 * " You must meet him -" 
 
 ' " Once again," she urged, piteously. 
 
 ' '' Never more, I meant to say — never 
 more. But why say you once again ?' 
 
 ' " I have promised, on my soul's peril." 
 
 ' " On your soul's peril indeed !" groaned 
 the priest, in great tribulation ; but, in 
 defiance of all he could urge, Muriel, 
 though she lived in an age of dark super-
 
 184 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 stitioD, of omens and dread, inspired by 
 her love, stole forth at the usual hour and 
 entered the dell to meet her lover, for the 
 last time, as it proved. 
 
 ' Perhaps it was a prevision of this that 
 made the wood seem so dark and gloomy, 
 and even the knots and gnarled branches 
 of the trees to look like those in the forest 
 to Undine, fiendish faces and freakish 
 limbs. 
 
 'Muriel knew in her heart that such 
 meetings were wrong, unbecoming to her 
 position, and sinful because she concealed 
 them ; but a spell seemed upon her, and 
 she could not resist it. She took no heed 
 of the future ; she had but one thought, to 
 be again with him. 
 
 ' "And oh ! why should this meeting be 
 our last one?" she wailed in her heart, 
 as he drew her to him, looking so 
 handsome the while in his black doublet 
 slashed with red, his ruff and scarlet plume.
 
 THE PICNIC AT DUNSINANE. 185 
 
 * *' My own !" said he, caressingly ; " my 
 OWE, 1 am aware that yonder dotard, fool 
 and knave, the mass-monger, has been 
 seeking to influence your mind against me, 
 and to part us." 
 
 ' '' And here he stands prepared to do 
 so !" exclaimed the black priest, as he sud- 
 denly appeared beside them, his eyes spark- 
 ling, but strangely with fear, rage, and 
 triumph mingling in their expression. 
 Muriel's lover clasped her to his breast, 
 and wrapped his scarlet mantle round her. 
 Then, w^hile his eyes glared with a fire 
 which fortunately she did not see, he 
 exclaimed, 
 
 * " Stand back, canting liar — stand back, 
 and begone !" 
 
 ' " Child Muriel, come to me, in the 
 name of God !" cried the priest, in sore 
 agony ; but she still clung to her lover, who, 
 at the 7iame uttered, cowered and shrank, 
 as in the opera we see Mephistopheles
 
 186 , THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 cower and shrink before the cross-hilted 
 swords of the soldiers. 
 
 ' " Muriel, Muriel, you are mine !" ex- 
 claimed her lover, attempting to lift her 
 from the ground. 
 
 ' " Take heed, child, ere it is too late," 
 urged the priest. 
 
 ' " Dare you advise ?" asked the stranger, 
 mockingly ; " does not one day judge 
 another ?" 
 
 * " Yes, and the last day judges all — even 
 such as you !" cried the benedictine ; then, 
 making a sign of the cross in the air, he 
 exclaimed, ' In nomine Patris et Filii ; et 
 Spiritus Sancti!" 
 
 * Scarcely had he done so when, under 
 the power of his exorcism, the mantle, 
 ruff, and plume of the pretended knight 
 turned to bracken leaves, his goblin chain 
 to wild holly, and he stood forth in all his 
 deformity, a horror to the eye, half man 
 and half goat, with the face of a baflfled
 
 THE PICNIC AT DUNSINANE. 187 
 
 and exasperated fiend — the Urisk, or wood 
 goblin ; and, with a malignant yell, he 
 vanished down the fast-darkening dingle !' 
 
 ' And Muriel ?' asked Holcroft, who had 
 listened to all with such a smile as his face 
 might be expected to wear. 
 
 ' Was saved, of course/ said Eveline. 
 
 ' And lived happy ever after ?' 
 
 ' "Well — content at least, let us hope. 
 She died a nun in the house of the English 
 Benedictines at Paris — now the convent of 
 the Val de Grace.' 
 
 'And has this legend a moral?' asked 
 Holcroft, mockingly. 
 
 * Of course it has,' answered Allan, rather 
 bluntly, yet with a quiet smile ; 'it gave a 
 good hint to the girls at Dundargue to 
 beware of the attentions of unaccredited 
 strangers.' 
 
 Holcroft's colour changed for a moment, 
 and not unnoticed by Allan ; for perhaps, 
 reading between the lines, all this seemed
 
 188 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 somewhat a parable to the former, who 
 tugged at his yellow moustaches in a way 
 he did when irritated, heedless that pomade 
 hon2:roise was disastrous to straw-coloured 
 gloves. 
 
 The angry gleam that crossed the eyes 
 of Holcroft was also noticed by Evan 
 Cameron, who, for some reason as yet 
 only known to himself, could not abide 
 him ; though certainly the latter did not 
 cross him by any attentions to the penni- 
 less Eveline Graham. 
 
 Her little tradition came as a pleasant 
 interlude to nearly all, for save Sir Paget 
 — always confident and genial — no one 
 seemed quite at ease, as a sense of cross- 
 purposes brooded over them. 
 
 ^ Tappleton,' cried Allan to the butler, 
 ' another glass of champagne all round ; 
 and then to be off,' he added, swinging 
 Olive adroitly into her saddle, and thus, 
 as he thought, anticipating Holcroft,
 
 THE PICNIC AT DUNSINANE. 189 
 
 though the latter, remembering keenly 
 his recent ' snub/ had no intention of 
 offering his services just then. 
 
 Allan, fearing that he had gone rather 
 too far with Ruby Logan in attempting to 
 pique his cousin, now resolved to leave 
 that young lady to the care of anyone else 
 in their homeward ride, much to her sur- 
 prise and disappointment, and took his 
 place by the side of Olive, in obedience to 
 a half-inviting glance she gave him. 
 
 He and his sister were, of course, familiar 
 since childhood with the ruins of Dunsin- 
 ane and all their surroundings ; but to two 
 or three of the party, as they turned to 
 depart, and saw the vast ramparts red- 
 dened by the setting sun, there came to 
 memory the scene they had so often wit- 
 nessed on tlie stage — Malcolm's army with 
 the boughs of Birnam in tbeir helmets, 
 the * alarms and excursions,* the fierce 
 and protracted melo-dramatic combat, the
 
 190 THE MASTER OF ABEREELDIE. 
 
 downfall of Macbeth beneatli the sword 
 of Macduff, and the cries of * Hail, Kin^ 
 of Scotland — King of Scotland, hail !'
 
 191 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE GOLDEN BANGLE, 
 
 A WRITER says ' there is the beauty of 
 youth, and surely there is the beauty of 
 love, too,' and the latter certainly shone in 
 the soft eyes of Eveline Graham as she 
 caracoled her horse in the homeward ride 
 by the side of young Cameron, and her 
 eyes, which were ever the mystery of that 
 face, had now their sweetest smiles for 
 him. She saw how his face was lighted 
 up, and was aware how his voice softened 
 when he addressed her as it softened to 
 no other woman ; and yet, withal, though 
 no word of love had passed between these 
 two, right well did they know the secret
 
 192 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIE. 
 
 of eacli other's hearts ; but poverty fet- 
 tered his tongue, and her parents' ambi- 
 tion and known wishes nearly repressed all 
 hope in the heart of Eveline. 
 
 With all her regard for her father she 
 had a fear of him, and still more so of her 
 mother. All their prejudices were in 
 favour of wealth ; but Evan Cameron ap- 
 peared to her altogether so dear and irre- 
 sistible that she, poor girl, could not im- 
 agine anyone being proof against him, and 
 with this conviction, and the knowledge 
 that Allan loved him, she permitted her- 
 self occasionally to live in a kind of fool's 
 paradise, wherein Sir Paget Puddicombe 
 had no part. 
 
 When her mother was not present, she 
 played to Evan Cameron, and sang his 
 favourite songs ; she showed him her 
 drawings for hints and suggestions, dis- 
 cussed her favourite books, and let him 
 hang over her chair ; and at such times.
 
 THE GOLDEN BANGLE. 193 
 
 thougli nothing of love was said, there 
 was a subtle tenderness in Cameron's eye 
 and voice that made her impulsive heart 
 quicken, as no man's eye or voice had ever 
 done before, and young though she was, 
 Eveline had heard more than one declar- 
 ation of love. 
 
 And now for a time he had the joy of 
 having her all to himself, as they con- 
 trived to distance the rest of their party. 
 
 But what availed it ? Evan knew that, 
 if once he passed beyond what appeared 
 to be the merest friendship, his visit to 
 Dundargue might come to a speedy end, 
 and its hospitality could never be extend- 
 ed to him again. 
 
 To Evan, Eveline Graham proved, it 
 we may say so, a kind of revelation after 
 the rough life he had led of late years in 
 India — something from another world, as 
 it were — and thus much of adoration min- 
 gled with his love for her. If dying could 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 THE MASTER OF ABERFP]LDIE. 
 
 have served Eveline, there and then would 
 Evan Cameron have died for her ! 
 
 Whether such enthusiastic passion 
 might last it was impossible to say, but 
 time may show. 
 
 We have referred to the quiet confidence 
 of Sir Paget Puddicombe — a confidence 
 borne of his consciousness of wealth and 
 assured position. However, he was sharp 
 enough to see to some extent how Camer- 
 on was attracted by Eveline , and to feel 
 how the latter preferred the young subal- 
 tern's society to his own ; but in a very 
 short time he knew that the ' detrimental,' 
 as Lady Abergeldie called him, would be 
 again with his regiment, the Black Watch, 
 perhaps under orders for foreign service ; 
 then he would have the course all to him- 
 self, and doubted not, as Holcroft would 
 have said, ' to win in a canter.' 
 
 Cameron thought the proverb right 
 about there being no fool like an old one ;
 
 THE GOLDEN BANGLE. 195 
 
 but theo, every old fool had not Sir Paget's 
 bank-book, and the preference and iuflu- 
 ence of parents to back up his folly. But 
 with a handsome figure, and his Y.C., how 
 much more was Cameron like the object of 
 a young girl's eye than Sir Paget could 
 ever be ! 
 
 ' It was in the Kurram Pass, in Afghan- 
 istan, that you gained the Victoria Cross, 
 Mr. Cameron?' said Eveline, breaking a 
 pause in the conversation, and shortening 
 her reins, while he checked the pace of 
 his horse, and replied, with a pleased 
 smile, 
 
 ' Yes ; but how do you know that. Miss 
 Graham — from your brother, the 
 Master?' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' I have never spoken of it.' 
 
 ' I read it in the Army List,' replied 
 Eveline, candidly, and to hear her say so 
 made the bronze cross of more value to 
 
 2
 
 196 THE MASTER OF AEERFELDIE. 
 
 him than the Garter would have been. 
 
 She had read it, and committed the epi- 
 sode to heart too — how ' the Queen had 
 been graciously pleased to signify her in- 
 tention of conferring the decoration of the 
 Victoria Cross ' on Lieutenant Evan Cam- 
 eron, of the — th Foot, and now of the 
 Black Watch, for a daring act of bravery 
 on a date given, when the retreating forces 
 were attacked by Afghans in great 
 strength, the latter having pushed forward 
 upon the position at daybreak, and Lieu- 
 tenant Cameron, accompanied by only five 
 soldiers, captured a nine-pounder gun, 
 shooting down or bayonetting all the gun- 
 ners, and thus preventing the destructive 
 use of the piece, which he brought off with 
 the loss of one man, but in the conflict 
 received three severe tulwar wounds. 
 
 Cameron was an enthusiast in his pro- 
 fession, and with outwardly the air of a 
 well-bred man of the world, and thoroughly
 
 THE GOLDEN BANGLE. 197 
 
 SO that of a j^oung Line officer, he had in 
 his nature a deep sentiment of nationality, 
 of clanship, and Highland romance, with 
 an intense pride in his regiment. He had 
 entertained Eveline often with sketches, 
 anecdotes, and traditions of the Black 
 Watch, but of himself and his Y.C., of 
 course, he never spoke. 
 
 ' What a proud moment it must have 
 been for you, when you knew that you had 
 won the cross !' said the girl, with a flush 
 on her soft cheek. 
 
 Stirred in his soul by the interest she 
 took in him, the great secret of his heart 
 was trembling on his lips, but he repressed 
 it, and a shadow came into his face and a 
 wistfulness into his eyes. 
 
 ' Prouder would I have been, Miss Gra- 
 ham,' said he, ' if — if — I ' 
 
 ' What ?' 
 
 * I had then been known even by name 
 to you,' he replied, in a low voice, and
 
 198 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 With a manner there was no mistaking. 
 
 Nothing more was said then ; yet they 
 both felt, while eye met eye, that their 
 first words of love had been spoken. 
 
 More might, perhaps, have passed, as 
 the subject could easily have been enlarged 
 on ; but just then they were abrupt^ 
 joined by Allan, who came up at a trot and 
 reined in his horse sharply by their side, 
 with a dark expression on his face, which 
 Eveline thought augured ill for his success 
 with Olive, whom he had suddenly left in 
 the care of Mr. Ilawke Holcroft. 
 
 After quitting the ruins, as Allan rode 
 on by his cousin's side, his memory had 
 gone back to the days when she was a girl 
 of some twelve years or so — a bright-eyed 
 hoyden, who could fish, even take a shot 
 from his gun, climb trees, eat apples right 
 off the branch, play marbles with him, 
 grasp a trout darting in the burn under 
 the long yellow broom or purple brambles,
 
 THE GOLDEN BANGLE. 199 
 
 and was liis companion in many a ramble 
 and out-door frolic ; and now inspired by 
 that memory, the scenery and beauty of 
 the evenings he felt himself disposed to 
 treat with considerable tenderness the love- 
 ly girl he hoped to make yet his own. 
 
 On the other hand, Olive cared little to 
 please him, and for a time sbe almost re- 
 pelled, and yet by doing so she greatly 
 lured and attracted him. 
 
 The friendship of Allan and Olive was a 
 source of some perplexity, if not amuse- 
 ment, to Eveline Graham, but of irritation 
 to her mother, to whom they never seemed 
 to act as lovers at all, unless in ' the Scots 
 fashion ' of pouting and quarrelling. 
 
 To the eyes of all interested in the mat- 
 ter, it did not seem that she cared for him 
 in the least. She never altered a ipldn or 
 hastened her pace to meet him, or go where 
 he might chance to be — in the library, on 
 the terrace smoking, or in any of the
 
 200 THE MASTER OE ABERFELDIB. 
 
 quaint corridors that traversed the old 
 house. She never adopted a dress, a 
 ribbon, or ornament to please his eye, 
 though she sometimes did, coquettishly, 
 he thought, to flatter Hawke Holcroft ; 
 and even now, as they were slowly tra- 
 versing the dark, woody dell of the legend 
 — the Coire-nan-Urishin — she was humming, 
 half in warning, half in waggery, Tenny- 
 son's song : 
 
 ' She can both false and friendly be, 
 
 Beware ! beware ! 
 
 Trust her not, she is fooling thee !' 
 
 And yet, as she glanced at her soldierly 
 cousin from time to time under her long, 
 dark lashes, she thought that, though he 
 looked stately in the kilt, he seldom looked 
 better than now when in riding costume, 
 with the smartest of light grey cover coats. 
 The girl's mind vibrated curiously be- 
 tween her over-sensitive pride, her wishes, 
 her doubts, and half convictions.
 
 THE GOLDEN BANGLE. 201 
 
 If pique at her position in the family 
 with Allan had made her accept, with a 
 certain degree of equanimity, the attentions 
 of Holcroft. she now began to feel a 
 pleasure that she had not more fully en- 
 couraged them. 
 
 At such moments as the present Allan 
 felt that this fair girl, who had ever been 
 his friend — cherished as a sister — this 
 sweet cousin with the violet eyes and rich 
 brown hair — was dear to him with a ten- 
 derness to which he could scarcely give a 
 name, unless it were purest love ; and she 
 might have read it in his eyes, intense and 
 strong, but for that spirit of wilfulness 
 which led her to temporise — was it to 
 tyrannise ? — or play with it and him. 
 
 But may a girl really love a man till she 
 is certain of being loved in return ? For 
 Allan, baffled by her manner, had said 
 nothing very pointed as yet, as if he based 
 all their future on her father's will ; and
 
 202 THE MASTEE OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 times there were when in pique he dropped 
 liis way of treating her half playfully, half 
 deferentially, and became absolutely cold. 
 
 In fact, the thoughts of Olive, apart 
 from her jealous pride, were somewhat 
 difficult to analyse ; but, as yet, she 
 deemed that she could only regard him 
 with a kind of sisterly attention ; while he, 
 when not irritated by the presence of 
 Holcroft, would say to Eveline, 
 
 ^ When we are alone, and can slip back 
 into our old memories, I shall soon teach 
 her to love me.' 
 
 ' But meantime,' replied his sister, * you 
 are the most tiresome couple in the 
 world.' 
 
 * I wish Mr. Holcroft or some one else 
 would join us,' said Olive, looking round 
 in her saddle. 
 
 'Why, it is always Mr. Holcroft!' ex- 
 claimed Allan. 
 
 ^ You are so provokingly silent. For
 
 THE GOLDEN BANGLE. 203 
 
 more tban a mile you have not once 
 spoken to me. It is stupid to be so triste ! 
 Surely there is some one else whose society 
 you prefer, or with whom you would be 
 more lively ?' 
 
 ' Olive !' said he, on hearing this blunt 
 and pointed remark — both curiously so for 
 her. ' You are surely not jealous of any- 
 one?' he added. 
 
 * Jealous !' echoed the girl, with a strange 
 but affected kind of lazy scorn ; ' why 
 should I be so, and of ichom T 
 
 ' Well may you ask, of whom could you 
 be so?' replied Allan, pointedly — so much 
 so that she coloured ; ' though I, of course, 
 matter little to you.' * 
 
 ' Allan, you are very wrong to say so/ 
 said the girl, softly. 
 
 ' Then I am not quite indifferent to 
 you ?' urged Allan, impulsively now ; ' you 
 do care for me a little?' 
 
 ^ Certainly — a good deal, if it is any
 
 204 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 satisfaction to you ; but there — don't touch 
 my bridle hand, or you will make my horse 
 shy. How can you be so tiresome !' 
 
 Allan sighed, and yet he regarded her, 
 in her loveliness and insouciance, with an 
 expression just then of mingled amuse- 
 ment, annoyance, and regard in his dark 
 hazel eyes. 
 
 With all the love that had been growing 
 in his heart for Olive, he had been in no 
 hurry to urge his suit, for, though impetu- 
 ous by nature, he could be reserved and 
 cautious enough at times ; but now his 
 heart flew to his head, and he said, 
 bluntly, 
 
 . ' Dearest Olive, will you promise to love 
 me — to marry me?' 
 
 * Why require any promise about the 
 matter ?' she replied, as all her wilfulness 
 returned ; ' has not my father promised for 
 me — bequeathed me to you like a bale of 
 goods, or condemned me to poverty !' she
 
 THE GOLDEN BANGLE. 205 
 
 added, with a bitter laugli on her lips that 
 curled with anger. ' I wonder that he did 
 not order that I was to be locked up and 
 fed on bread and water till I gave my 
 consent to marry you, or that I was to be 
 dropped into that oubliette which exists 
 somewhere in Dundargue.' 
 
 ' Cousin Olive,' said he, reproachfully, 
 ' why this pride and doubt of my purpose ? 
 You are as cruel as you are beautiful.' 
 
 ' This is worse than anything you have 
 ever said to me,' she cried, with angry 
 laughter still. 
 
 ' Worse ?' 
 
 'Yes, an attempt at gross straightfor- 
 ward compliment, as if I was a girl at a 
 railway buffet.' 
 
 ' Don't you like to be complimented ?' 
 
 ' By some people — yes,' was the petulant 
 reply. 
 
 ' All the girls I have ever known have 
 liked pretty, flattering speeches.'
 
 206 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 ^ But I am different, I hope, from most 
 of the girls you have known.' 
 
 'B}'- Jove you are !' replied the Master, 
 twisting his moustache till he made him- 
 self wince ; ' but will I never be more to 
 you than I am now ?' 
 
 ' Never more than my cousin — what 
 w^ould you desire to be? But here comes 
 Mr. Holcroft, to whom I certainly made 
 no sign,' she added, with some annoyance, 
 as she thought of what had so lately passed 
 between them ; and then, so variable was 
 her emotion, that she laughed as she 
 thought — ' Two proposals in one day, and 
 both made in the saddle too — how droll !' 
 
 Allan misinterpreted her silent laugh as 
 a welcome to Holcroft, and shrank from 
 his own angry fears — they were not con- 
 victions yet — lest he should adopt that 
 meanest passion of the whole category — 
 jealousy without a just cause— jealousy 
 of oue inferior to him in social position.
 
 THE GOLDEN BANGLE. 207 
 
 and certainly in personal attractions. 
 
 When reduced to act cavalier to Miss 
 Euby Logan, who certainly did not want 
 him, Hawke Holcroft had looked darklv 
 after the cousins as they rode off too^ether, 
 and thought that nothing short of death 
 Tvould prevent him from accomplishiug 
 the object he had now in view ere he left 
 Dundargue. 
 
 From something in the manner of the 
 cousins, he — a close observer — augured 
 that Allan had not made his ' innings ' 
 wdth the heiress, yet he cantered up to 
 Allan's side, and said, smilingly to Olive, 
 
 * May I smoke. Miss Eaymond ? The 
 road is quite lonely, and if not disagreeable 
 to you ' 
 
 * Certainly,' said she, curtly. 
 
 'And I shall join you,' added Allan. 
 *Can you oblige me with a light, Hol- 
 croft?' 
 
 Cigars were selected, and Holcroft
 
 208 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 handed his silver matchbox to Allan, who, 
 with a leap of his heart, though without 
 changing colour or a muscle of his dark and 
 sunburned face, saw on his rival's wrist 
 his own gift sent from Delhi, the gold 
 bangle, which Olive had, perhaps, for the 
 time forgotten, and on which was her own 
 name in raised Roman letters. 
 
 He had seen Holcroft in rather close 
 proximity to her during the most of the 
 day, and if piqued thereat, more than ever 
 was he piqued and startled now, and 
 abruptly wheeling round his horse, he 
 muttered some excuse and joined his sister 
 and his friend Cameron, while the words 
 of the song came ominously back to 
 
 memory — 
 
 ' Trust her not, she is fooling thee.' 
 
 The bangle ! He blushed to think of it, 
 
 and shrank as yet from speaking of it, 
 
 even to Eveline, for he was altogether 
 
 unaware of under what circumstances
 
 THE GOLDEN BANGLE. 209 
 
 Holcroft came to possess it, or the effort 
 Olive had raade to procure its return 
 without success, but imagination and 
 jealousy now did much to fill his heart 
 with secret fury. 
 
 Would the future hold love or hatred 
 for these two cousins? It seemed just 
 then dilBficult to say. 
 
 Like Eveline, he thought the gift of the 
 photo a trifle when compared with this, yet 
 the photo was eventually to prove the 
 most serious and troublesome gift of the 
 two. 
 
 Wounded self-esteem, disquiet, and in- 
 tense mortification reigned supreme in the 
 mind of the somewhat proud young Master 
 of Aberfeldie ; but he felt himself necessi- 
 tated to dissemble. Hawke Holcroft was 
 his fathers guest, the son of his father's 
 oldest and most valued friend ; and while 
 at Dundargue it would be necessary to 
 treat him with courtesy, though Allan 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIB. 
 
 never doubted that he was a Meg,' and 
 resolved that his courtesy would be blend- 
 ed with watchfulness, if — bitter thought — 
 Olive was now worth watching over ! 
 
 Unprepared for such a crisis or cata- 
 strophe as the discovery of the bangle, and 
 ignorant that Allan had made it, when a 
 carpet-dance took place that evening at 
 Dun d argue, though Olive was arrayed in 
 one of her most becoming toilettes for 
 him, and him alone, he never even address- 
 ed her or looked near her; and, black 
 though his brow, he entirely occupied him- 
 self with Euby Logan ; and, provoked by 
 this, Olive again endured the attention of 
 Holcroft, and thought to play — or affect to 
 play — with them both. 
 
 In this, however, the little scheme was 
 doomed to be disappointed by the 
 events of the following day. 
 
 ' I shall quit Dundargue for London, or 
 give up my leave and go back to the regi-
 
 THE GOLDEN BANGLE. 211 
 
 ment, and never look upon her fair, false 
 face again till I have schooled myself into 
 merely regarding her with a brotherly — 
 well, say cousinly — eye !' thought Allan, 
 with great bitterness of spirit. 
 
 But how about that absurd will and the 
 settlement of the money ? 
 
 p2
 
 212 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Eveline's suitor. 
 
 * Verily,' says a writer, ' we miss our op- 
 portunities, and live our lives as i£ they 
 were all to come twice over ; not as if each 
 passing sunset brought us nearer that 
 day when the pulse must cease to beat, 
 and the heart with all its emotions must be 
 stilled for ever.' 
 
 Olive was now experiencing the truth of 
 this to a certain extent. 
 
 She had been — in spite of herself — 
 touched by Allan's earnestness, and on 
 retiring to her room her first act was to
 
 Eveline's suitoe. 213 
 
 have his neglected gift — the little silver 
 idol — the bequest of the grateful subadar 
 — duly installed on a pretty Swiss bracket, 
 and next morning she determined to dis- 
 cover why his manner, after their return 
 from Dunsinane, had been so marked and 
 disagreeable to her, even if she should 
 take the initiative, and have to recur to 
 the conversation which ended so abruptly 
 on the preceding evening. 
 
 She entered the breakfast-room full of 
 the subject, and dressed — so far as lace 
 and blue ribbons went — in a most attract- 
 ive and coquettish morning costume ; 
 but Allan was not there — he was at the 
 stables, no doubt, or at the kennel. How 
 tiresome men were, she thought. 
 
 ' Good morning, Olive darling ! how 
 charming you look — I must positively give 
 you a kiss !' exclaimed the not usually 
 effusive Lady Aberfeldie, touching the 
 girl's cheek with her lips.
 
 214 THE MASTEE OP ABERFELDIEt 
 
 The last to appear at the breakfast-table 
 was her husband, who entered with a note 
 in his hand, and an expression of surprise 
 on his face. 
 
 ' Here is a strange thing, Eveline,' said 
 he to Lady Aberfeldie. ' Tappleton has 
 just brought me this note from 
 Allan ' 
 
 '- From Allan !' exclaimed one or two 
 voices. 
 
 ^ Stating that lie would leave by dawn 
 this morning to take the train for the 
 south, and might be absent some time, 
 and this without further explanation.' 
 
 ' How odd — how unlike him !' exclaimed 
 Lady Aberfeldie. ' Do you know of any 
 business engagement or invitation he 
 had?' 
 
 ' No — I know of nothing.' 
 
 * Or you, Olive — or you, Mr. Cam- 
 eron ?' 
 
 All professed ignorance, and the matter
 
 Eveline's suitor. 215 
 
 ivas canvassed by the family circle in 
 vain. 
 
 * It will be explained, of course. Allan 
 never acts without reason,' said his father, 
 addressing himself to the morning 
 meal. 
 
 ' Allan gone — how odd — how unaccount- 
 able !' was the thought of Olive, whose 
 heart rather reproached her ; and now, for 
 a little time, she missed the handsome 
 cousin whom she had so teased, worried, 
 and mortified ; and she began to dread 
 that he had resigned his leave of ab- 
 sence, and gone abruptly to rejoin his 
 regiment. 
 
 ' Olive,' said Lady Aberfeldie, ' do go on 
 with your breakfast.' 
 
 ' Oh, auntie, I have finished.' 
 
 ' Finished ! — child, you have taken no- 
 thing : Tappleton will get you a little 
 grouse-pie.' 
 
 ' Oh, no — thanks,' replied Olive, and, ris-
 
 216 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 ing from the table, she quitted the room. 
 The eyes of her aunt and Holcroft followed 
 her, as each had thoughts of their own. 
 
 The love the latter professed for her was 
 destitute of jealousy, but was not without 
 fear; and his face just then would have 
 been a picture had anyone cared to study 
 it. 
 
 There might have been read satisfaction 
 that by Allan's unexpected departure he 
 had the field all to himself ; annoyance, for 
 the Dundargue despatch-box often brought 
 him, and on this morning had done so, 
 epistles in blue envelopes, which he cared 
 not to receive ; greed, as he thought of the 
 prize that might yet be his ; and hot im- 
 patience to find it in his grasp ; and thus, 
 while affecting to listen to Lord Aberfeldie, 
 who was describing to him and Sir Paget 
 a cover they were to shoot over that day, 
 his mind was revolving how he might 
 succeed in entrapping Olive Kaymond into
 
 Eveline's suitor. 217 
 
 some kind of Scotcli marriage (whatever 
 that was) in fun, or jest, and then declare 
 it was a true and solemn ceremony. He 
 thought he had heard of such things being 
 tried and done, but was not quite certain. 
 
 However, he took fresh courage now 
 that he would have her all to himself, and 
 thought, with Bulwer, that ' thrones and 
 bread man wins by the aid of others. 
 Fame and woman's heart he can only gain 
 through himself.' 
 
 Not that he cared much for fame or 
 woman's heart either ; bat he could might- 
 ily appreciate her fortune. 
 
 Whatever was the secret thought of 
 Olive about the sudden and unexpected 
 departure of Allan, she felt some renewal 
 of her pique, but of a different kind, when 
 told by Eveline of the magnificent suite of 
 Maltese ornaments he had brought home. 
 
 ' For whom ?' she asked. 
 
 ' You, of course.'
 
 218 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 * Then lie lias never offered them for my 
 acceptance.' 
 
 ' Think of your manner to him, Olive/ 
 
 ' They are for Ruby Logan more likely. 
 He has met Ruby before^ we all know.' 
 
 ^ I should not be surprised if they be- 
 come a gift to Ruby now/ replied Eveline, 
 who was quietly provoked by Olive's 
 treatment of her brother ; ' though, when 
 he got these jewels at Malta, I question if 
 he knew of that yellow-haired damsel's 
 existence.' 
 
 And now, greatly to the vexation of 
 Eveline, and the amusement perhaps of 
 Olive, the latter's bangle remained on the 
 wrist of the enterprising Mr. Holcroft, 
 thouo^h none of them knew the mischief 
 that the discovery of it had wrought in the 
 mind of Allan Graham ; but in the latter's 
 absence poor little Eveline was doomed to 
 have — unsupported by his presence and 
 advice — some heavy trouble of her own.
 
 EVELINES SUITOR. 219 
 
 Lord aucl Lady Aberfeldie were in con- 
 sultation in the latter 's boudoir, a little, 
 old-fashioned room of octagonal shape, the 
 panelled walls of which were hung with 
 rich silk — a sanctum long sacred to the 
 Chatelaines of Dundargue, and the whole 
 appurtenances of which had that combined 
 air of ease, repose, and grandeur peculiar 
 to the furniture of an ancient and long- 
 descended race. 
 
 Kelpie — a currish-looking terrier, but 
 her ladyship's pet — had got his morning 
 repast of cream and macaroons from her 
 own white hands, and, this important duty 
 over, she and her husband began to con- 
 verse on family matters. 
 
 Lady Aberfeldie amid these, indulged in 
 some angry surmises as to how long they 
 were '' to have the society of Mr. Hol- 
 croft; 
 
 ' I cannot say that I care much person- 
 ally for Hawke Holcroft/ replied her hus-
 
 220 THE MASTER OF ABEREELDIE. 
 
 band ; ' but his father, as you know, saved 
 my life at Alraa, and won therefore the Y.C. 
 I have told you, Eveline, I think, that when 
 Colin Campbell's Highland brigade advanc- 
 ed in echelon of regiments along the 
 Kourgane Hill, the Black Watch, of course, 
 led the way, and, just about the time the 
 Eussian Kazan column broke, no particular 
 sound had followed our firing but the yells 
 of their wounded ringing through the 
 smoke. With the next volley we heard a 
 rattling sound, as our bullets fell like hail 
 upon the tin- kettles they carried outside 
 their knapsacks, as all the great grey-coated 
 blocks of infantry were right about face now, 
 in full retreat. It was just then, as our 
 calvary and guns swept after them in pur- 
 suit, that I fell wounded, and would have 
 been bayoneted on the spot by four Russians, 
 wholayamongsome caper bushes shamming 
 death, had not old Major Holcroft cut them 
 down like ninepins, and protected me till
 
 Eveline's suitoe. 221 
 
 some of our fellows returned. I cannot 
 forget all that, you know.' 
 
 Lady Aberfeldie, who had heard all this 
 fifty times at least before, sighed with im- 
 patience, and said, 
 
 ' His son certainly appears to have some 
 attraction for Olive ; and what would you 
 think if Allan, repelled by her, was actually 
 to fall in love with Ruby Logan and her 
 
 amber locks ? What a comDlication that 
 
 1. 
 
 might be.' 
 
 ' Don't suggest such a thing for a mo- 
 ment. I hope he wilh prove himself every 
 way worthy of one who has so long occupied, 
 like Eveline, the place of a daughter in our 
 hearts.' 
 
 ' Talking of Eveline, it is high time she 
 was informed of Sir Paget's views and 
 wishes; and while on the subject may I 
 ask,' she added, with some asperity of 
 tone, ' how long Mr. Cameron is to be 
 here ?'
 
 222 THE xMASTER OF ABBRFELDIE. 
 
 ' A week yet, and then he must report 
 himself at head-quarters.' 
 
 ' A whole week ?' muttered lady Aber- 
 f eldie, who was far from inhospitable when 
 she approved of the objects to whom she 
 thought hospitality should be extended. 
 
 ' I do like Stratherroch. He is like his 
 father, old Angus of the Cameron High- 
 landers, yet not so lively ; for Angus was the 
 king of good fellows, and used to keep the 
 mess-table in a roar.' 
 
 ' Yet I would his son were with the regi- 
 ment again, or anywhere else but here.' 
 
 ' I think he admires Eveline.' 
 
 ' I am certain of it, and the sooner their 
 intimacy terminates the better. Eveline 
 and Strath — good heavens !' exclaimed 
 Lady Aberf eldie, with her' white jewelled 
 hands uplifted, ' never again must their 
 names be mingled, even in our family 
 circle, especially under pending circum- 
 stances.'
 
 EVELINE S SUITOR. 223 
 
 * They do seem intimate,' said the peer, 
 moodily ; ' but have not at least progressed 
 so far as the use of Christian names.' 
 
 * That would be intolerable;' and, ringing 
 the bell, Lady Aberfeldie desired a servant 
 to summon her daughter, who appeared in 
 a very coquettish and becoming lawn-tennis 
 costume, for a game on the lawn, where 
 the courts were already set and some friends 
 awaited. 
 
 She entered with a bright smile, which 
 soon died away, for she read an expression 
 in the faces of her parents, especially 
 that of her mother, which seemed to her 
 sensitive heart prophetic of evil. 
 
 If it be true, as Madame be Stael asserts, 
 that ' love occupies the whole life of a 
 woman,' it need not be a matter of surprise 
 that the sex can discover each other's love 
 secrets with ease ; thus, though Lady 
 Aberfeldie fully suspected what filled the 
 heart of her daughter — so closely had she
 
 224 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 watched her — she was somewhat pitiless 
 now. 
 
 With all her queenly manner and soft 
 grace, her unexceptional toilettes and sauv- 
 ity of manner, Lady Aberfeldie had a will 
 of iron, yea, of adamant in some things, 
 and her daughter's marriage with Sir Paget 
 was one of them. 
 
 She was told plainly and bluntly that he 
 had proposed for her hand ; had asked per- 
 mission to address her on the subject ; had 
 offered magnificent — yea, princely settle- 
 ments ; and it was expected the marriage 
 would take place, when the family returned 
 to London, next season. 
 
 The long dreaded cloud had burst upon 
 her at last ! 
 
 She grew white as a lily on hearing this 
 sentence, clung to a console table for sup- 
 port, and then burst into a torrent of tears, 
 while her father drew her tenderly towards 
 him.
 
 Eveline's suitor. 225 
 
 ' Be calm, child,' said he, ' we shall give 
 you plenty of time to think about it ; mar- 
 riage is a serious thing at all times.' 
 
 Eveline thought it was doubly serious 
 with such a bridegroom, but could only sob, 
 while her mother eyed her gloomily, as 
 she thought this excessive grief and repug- 
 nance augured worse for her scheme than 
 indignation or defiance would have done ; 
 but poor Eveline was all softness and 
 gentleness. 
 
 * What folly is this ?' she asked. 
 
 ' I am your only daughter, mamma,' 
 urged Eveline. 
 
 ' Hence it is your first duty to your 
 family, to yourself, and the world to make 
 an early, eligible, and wealthy marriage. 
 Every season brings many such to pass in 
 our own circle.' 
 
 'Are we so poor, mamma?' 
 
 ' We are not rich, and know not what 
 may happen,' 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 Did Lady Aberfeldie speak propheti- 
 cally ? If so, it was an utterance made 
 unawares. 
 
 ^Eveline darling,' said her father, 'you 
 were content enough with the attentions of 
 Sir Paget, and to accept even his presents 
 in London, a season or two ago/ 
 
 ' I was but a girl then fresh from school, 
 and — and joined other girls in laughing at 
 my having an old lover. I — I knew no 
 better,' she continued, sobbing. 
 
 ' And had not met Cameron of Strath- 
 erroch !' said her mother through her set 
 teeth, and quite forgetting the role she had 
 so recently suggested. 
 
 ' No,' thought Eveline, * and had not 
 learned to love him.' She shivered as if 
 she had been struck when her mother spoke, 
 and then said, with all the firmness she 
 could assume, 
 
 * You must mistake us in some way, 
 mamma. Mr. Cameron has never addressed
 
 Eveline's ruitoe. 227 
 
 a word to me that he might not have ad- 
 dressed to yourself.' 
 
 'I am glad of it — then I shall tauut you 
 with his name no more/ said her mother, 
 kissing her forehead. ' People generally, 
 but young ladies especially, should never 
 indulge in strong emotions.' 
 * Perhaps, mamma ; but why ?' 
 ' They age the face so much by lining it.' 
 Eveline covered with her handkerchief 
 her whole sweet face, which was quivering 
 with emotion now. She felt that the ro- 
 mance of her young girl's life was quite pass- 
 ing from her, and that, even if she escaped 
 a marriage with Sir Paget, she must think 
 of Evan Cameron and his silent love no 
 more ! 
 
 ' Think of Sir Paget's princely settle- 
 ments,' said Lord Aberfeldie. ' But how 
 difficult it is,' he added, as if to himself, ' to 
 imbue a woman — a pretty girl more than 
 rj^ll — yvith any idea of the seriousness of 
 
 q2
 
 228 THH MASTER OP ABERFELDIE. 
 
 pounds, shillings, and pence ! To her they 
 are as the sands upon the seashore, unless 
 she has known want/ 
 
 ' Do reflect on all this, Eveline,' urged 
 her mother. 
 
 * I cannot ; and why should I do so ?' 
 
 ' Because most of the great evils of life 
 might be avoided if we would only take 
 time to reflect.' 
 
 ' In a matter like this, mamma/ said 
 Eveline, taking courage from her despera- 
 tion, and hoping by temporising to gain, 
 at least, time, ' reflection might lead to 
 madness. Can wealth or princely settle- 
 ments make up for that disparity of years 
 which will excite ridicule in all the girls 
 who know me, and cover me with contempt 
 as a mean, sordid, and covetous creature 
 in marrying a man I do not and can never 
 love, and who cannot really care for me, 
 whatever he may think or say ? So, so, I 
 am to be taken to market, as it were, and
 
 EVELINE'S SUITOR. 229 
 
 sold to the best advantage. That is the 
 plain English of it !' 
 
 * Eveline, how can you adopt a tone so 
 little like you ?' said her mother, reproach- 
 fully. ' Sir Paget will be sure to address 
 you on this subject, as he has your papa's 
 permission, and, when he does so, be sure 
 that you comport yourself as becomes my 
 daughter/ she added, rather haughtily, and 
 rather ignoring her husband in the matter. 
 * But go ; I hear Olive and Miss Logan 
 calling for you.' 
 
 Eveline hurried away, bathed her eyes, 
 and then, hat in hand, descended from the 
 terrace to the sunny lawn, where Olive, 
 Euby, and other girls were flitting about, 
 radiant with smiles and in gaily-coloured 
 costumes, with saucy and bewitching hats, 
 talking and laughing merrily ; but the girl 
 felt as one in a dream, a nightmare. A 
 dark cloud seemed to envelop her, amid 
 which she heard the voices of her friends,
 
 230 THE MASTER OF ABEHFELDIB. 
 
 and it may be imagined with what emo- 
 tions in her breast she saw in the tennis- 
 court opposite her, Cameron, looking so 
 handsome in a kind of athlete's flannel 
 dress, and the rotund figure of Sir Paget 
 in a tight morning coat, out of the neck of 
 which his round, shining head was jerked 
 ever and anon in the turtle fashion we 
 have described. 
 
 Never while she lived, Eveline thought, 
 should she forget the horror she had of 
 that game of lawn-tennis ; the part she had 
 to act in it under a glorious sunshine, and 
 the desire she had for the seclusion of her 
 own room, for by contrast with the chaos 
 in her own heart the whole bright scene 
 became a species of grim phantasmagoria. 
 
 Her heart seemed full of tears ; her 
 naturally buoyant and happy spirit was 
 crushed. She dared hardly trust herself 
 to address even Cameron, who saw, with a 
 lovers instinct, that something, he knew
 
 Eveline's suitor. 231 
 
 not what (unless with reference to Sir 
 Paget), had gone decidedly wrong. 
 
 We have already adverted to the strong 
 passion an elderly swain like Sir Paget 
 may conceive for a young girl ; and, en- 
 couraged by her parents' permission, he 
 was now giving full swing to it, as he 
 watched her slender, lithe, and willowy 
 figure in the various postures incident to 
 the game, which tested /iZi^ powers of action 
 severely, and during a pause in it he ap- 
 proached her with a smile rippling on his 
 rubicund old face, and displaying a set of 
 teeth that were first-rate as to cost and 
 quality. 
 
 ' My dear Miss Graham,' he said, with a 
 most insinuating jerk of his head, ' why do 
 you avoid me ?' 
 
 * I am not aware that I avoid you ; I 
 hope I don't do so,' replied Eveline, colour- 
 ing with annoyance, and at the conviction 
 that she certainly had done so. Then, as
 
 232 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 a kind of hunted feeling came over her, 
 she added ; ' but I do not think, Sir Paget, 
 that I am bound to account to you for all 
 I do.' 
 
 ' Of course not/ said he, with a bow, and 
 Eveline coloured more deeply at the un- 
 graciousness of her own speech; ^ of course 
 not, my dear young lady — asyet^ he added, 
 under his breath. 
 
 At last she pleaded illness, fatigue, and 
 headache, threw down her hat, and fairly 
 fled to her own room.
 
 233 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A REVELATION TO HOLCROFT. 
 
 The sudden, unexpected, and unexplained 
 departure of Allan Graham from Dundar- 
 gue (a reason for wbicli will be given in 
 due time), if it puzzled his family, still 
 more puzzled and piqued Olive, especially 
 after what passed between them on their 
 homeward ride. But then, says Lefanu, 
 — 'Women are so enigmatical; some in 
 everything— all in matters of the heart.' 
 
 The monetary matters of Mr. Hawke 
 Holcroft were approaching a species of
 
 234 THE MASTER OE ABERFELDIE. 
 
 crisis now, and lie was daily getting 
 orange-coloured missives and messages 
 ' wired ' in mysterious terms from jockeys, 
 bookmakers, and other horsey folks that 
 added to his tribulation, for things seemed 
 to be going wrong with him, and he felt 
 that now or never must he attempt to 
 secure the heiress, who, he thought, was 
 only waiting to be carried off. 
 
 Even loo and ecarte in the evening 
 with such pigeon-like players as Sir Paget 
 were beginning to fail as resources. 
 
 ' Odd fellow in his way,' remarked the 
 baronet to Cameron. *A trifle too lucky 
 at cards for my taste.' 
 
 ' Or mine,' said Cameron, grimly. 
 
 ' Turns up the king too often after the 
 early hours of the morning.' 
 
 Yet when niofht came as^ain and the 
 small hours of the morning, the somewhat 
 simple M.P. for Slough-cum-Sloggit was 
 again a heavy loser to Holcroft.
 
 A REVELATION TO HOLOROET. 235 
 
 * He lias some secret about him/ said 
 tbe former. 
 
 * Most men have some secret which they 
 generally keep to themselves/ replied 
 Cameron. 
 
 'Secrets certainly, which they seldom 
 tell to their wives or sweethearts,' said the- 
 baronet, laughing. 
 
 We have said that Olive had a secret 
 thought that might prove somewhat fatal 
 to Allan's success with her, a mistaken 
 idea that Holcroft loved her — loved her 
 for herself — and despite the tenor of her 
 father s will ; while Allan might love her 
 because he knew the value of its tenor to 
 himself. 
 
 And, now that the latter was so unac- 
 countably absent, Holcroft was full of con- 
 fidence, and, the ice having once been 
 broken, thought it would be easy to go 
 back to where he had left off on the ride 
 home from Dunsinane.
 
 236 THE MASTER OE ABEREELDIE. 
 
 In his own selfish way he loved her ; 
 but then she was beautiful. Loved her ! 
 * Oh, poverty of language, that we must so 
 often use the word love!' exclaims a writer. 
 
 It was some days before his inevitable 
 departure from Dundargue (and not an 
 hour too soon for that), when he and 
 Olive were somewhat earlier, and before 
 anyone else, in the breakfast-room, and 
 the notes of Eonald Gair's pipes, playing 
 his morning reveille, ' The Black Watch,' 
 a slow and wailing air, were dying away 
 on the terrace outside. 
 
 Holcroft's face looked worn and hag- 
 gard — more freckled, and the eyes more 
 than usually shifty in their expression. 
 He had received some letters and tele- 
 grams the evening before that upset him 
 so much that he failed even to win at loo 
 or ecarte, and the live-long night he had 
 been heard by Cameron pacing to and fro, 
 as if unable to rest.
 
 A EEVELATION TO HOLCROFT. 237 
 
 Olive was struck by his pallid appear- 
 ance. 
 
 They exchanged 'Good-mornings,' and 
 then a few minutes' silence ensued. 
 
 ' We may have rain soon,' was the not 
 very original remark of Holcroft. 
 
 ' The sky looks very like it. Rain al- 
 ways comes when the mist is Avhere we 
 see it now, on yonder low spur of the 
 Sidlaw Hills,' replied Olive. 
 
 She was kneeling on a bearskin, beside 
 the great staghounds, Shiuloch and Bran, 
 with her little white hands . outspread 
 before the fire for warmth ; and a charm- 
 ing picture she made, in her morning cos- 
 tume, fresh and lovely as a fairy, with the 
 dogs in the foreground, and the great 
 carved stone arch of the baronial chimney- 
 piece for a frame. 
 
 Hawke Holcroft turned from the window 
 and came to her side, though curiously 
 enough the hazel eyes of the hounds
 
 238 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIE. 
 
 glistened, and they showed their teeth at 
 him, suggestive of kicks secretly adminis- 
 tered. 
 
 'We are down earlier than usual this 
 morning/ said she. 
 
 ' All the better/ 
 
 ' Why ?' 
 
 ' I want so particularly to talk to you/ 
 said he, with all the softness he could 
 assume. 
 
 ' And I with you,' said Olive, • with a 
 frankness that was a curious mistake. * You 
 leave us soon, I believe?' 
 
 'Yes/ 
 
 'For London?' 
 
 ' For London,' he replied, mechanically, 
 as it were. 
 
 ' I thought you came to stay out the 
 grouse-shooting ?' 
 
 ' Till the tenth of December ! I have 
 not been asked/ he replied, gnawing his 
 yellow moustache ; and then, after a pause,
 
 A EEVELATION TO HOLCROFT. 239 
 
 added, ' would you wish that I stayed ?' 
 
 ' Certainly, if you are enjoying yourself,' 
 was the girl's frank but — after what he 
 had urged some time ago — rather rash 
 response. 
 
 His eyes sparkled — he drew nearer. 
 
 ' Miss Raymond — Olive !' he exclaimed, 
 but paused, as, at that moment, Lady Aber- 
 feldie swept into the room ; ' on the terrace 
 — the terrace after breakfast,' he whispered, 
 hurriedly, and then turned to receive his 
 hostess's morning greeting, which was so 
 friofid that he feared she had overheard 
 him call her niece by her Christian name. 
 
 Holcroft was rather abstracted at break- 
 fast; thus Euby Logan, who had been 
 watching him, said, 
 
 ' I would not, if I were you, put more 
 sugar on the devilled turkey ; it won't im- 
 prove it.' 
 
 ^ Forgot it was not salt ; thanks, Miss 
 Logan,' stammered Holcroft.
 
 240 THE MASTER OF ABERFELBIE. 
 
 Now, whether the charming Olive was 
 inspired by coquetry, curiosity, caprice, or 
 a strange desire to play with fire, we know 
 not ; but when breakfast was over she laid 
 down a novel she had been reading, or 
 affecting to read, at intervals during the 
 meal, and, assuming her garden hat, with 
 all the laces and ribbons of her bright 
 morning dress fluttering about her, while 
 everyone else at table was deep in his or 
 her letters and papers, went forth upon — 
 the terrace ! 
 
 Now Mr. Hawke Holcroft never read 
 novels or anything else unless for a pur- 
 pose. He glanced at the page which Olive 
 had left open (the work was 'Miss For- 
 rester ') and the passage struck him as 
 most a])ropos to himself : 
 
 ^ I never pretended to goodness. I have 
 certain views for myself. I never pre- 
 tended to fooling. I am clever. What 
 stands between me and my ambition I will
 
 A REVELATION TO HOLCROFT. 241 
 
 remove ; of whatever can administer to it 
 I will avail myself. Beyond this, it seems 
 to me, I am as good as other people.' 
 
 ' Hawke, my boy, yourself to a hair !' 
 thought he, as he quietly sought the terrace, 
 not by the French window, as Olive had 
 done, but by going through a corridor and. 
 the entrance hall. 
 
 As coolly as if she had no prevision of 
 what he was sure to urge, Olive, who wore 
 a waggish yet shy expression under her 
 garden hat, and who kept her hands deep 
 in the pockets of her morning dress, said, 
 
 ' What have you to say to me here that 
 you could not have said in the vicinity of 
 the tea-urn ?' 
 
 ' All that I have to say may be said in 
 three words.' 
 
 ' Three ! say it then.' 
 
 ' I love you ; a confession that has hover- 
 ed on my timid lips many a time.' 
 
 ' I cannot listen to this, and I wish to 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 have back my baugle. If Allan were to see 
 it — good heavens !' 
 
 ' I have said that it shall be buried with 
 me. Do give me some hope.' 
 
 'Of what; permission to retain tbe 
 bangle ?' 
 
 ' No ; that you may one day love me.' 
 
 * I cannot.' 
 
 ^ Say rather that you will not.' 
 
 Barring, in an angle of the terrace, her 
 attempts to leave him, he continued, in an 
 earnestness that was born of monetary pres- 
 sure and desperate hope, to plead his passion. 
 
 ' I am greatly honoured,' replied the girl, 
 growing cold as he waxed warm, and 
 glancing nervously at the windows of the 
 mansion ; ' but I am very sorry ' 
 
 ' That you don't love me.' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 * But you may in time. Oh, how I could 
 teach you to do so ! Let me wait and 
 strive, Olive. You deem me wild, perhaps
 
 A REVELATION TO HOLCROFT. 243 
 
 — horsey, and all that sort of tliiu^^ ; but 
 do you think a man never changes, never 
 grows better, under a woman's softening 
 influence? Are you entirely to let this 
 family compact, whatever it may be, Olive 
 — pardon m.e, Miss Raymond,' he added, as 
 he saw how her face clouded by the refer- 
 ence to her position — ' are you intending 
 to let it stand between you and all other 
 chances of marriage ?' 
 
 ' You have no right to question me thus, 
 or to assume this interest in my affairs, 
 Mr. Holcroft.' 
 
 * Pardon me, but I have a love for you 
 that will last while life does.' 
 
 He did not add that it was the love of — 
 her money. 
 
 * If there is only the Master, your cousin, 
 between us, that is no barrier, as I know 
 you don't love him.' 
 
 * Then you know more of me than I do 
 of myself,' said Olive, provoked by his blunt 
 
 r2
 
 244 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIB. 
 
 brusquerie of manner, and failing to be 
 flattered by his pertinacity just then. 
 
 ^ Perhaps yon deem me an heiress ?' 
 said Olive, as a new light suddenly broke 
 upon her. 
 
 *My dear Miss Raymond/ stammered 
 Holcroft, colouring with surprise at the 
 abruptness of her question. ^ I never 
 thought upon the subject ; I only knew 
 that — that — I am not just now a man of 
 
 fortune ; my place in Essex ' he paused, 
 
 thinking the less he said about it the better. 
 * But who thinks of pelf when the heart is 
 full of passion 1' he added, magnanimously. 
 ' But tell me now,' said he, in his most suave 
 tone, ^do you care for anyone else more 
 than for me ?' 
 
 ' I don't care for you at all — ^at least 
 in the way you mean,' she replied, de- 
 fiantly. 
 
 He ground his teeth, even while he 
 smiled, and thought,
 
 A EEVELATION TO HOLCROFT. 245 
 
 ' I must have patience before I tempt 
 mj fate again !' 
 
 Hawke Holcroft had made it so much a 
 habit during his sojourn at Dundargue to be 
 in close attendance upon Olive — especial- 
 ly when the}'- were alone together — that his 
 lovemaking took her less by surprise. In 
 a spirit of pique she had permitted him to 
 dangle, and to play — if we may use the 
 term — at admiration for herself; but, udw 
 that he had become serious a second time, 
 she became alarmed. 
 
 The remark which had escaped her had 
 excited some surprise in the mind of Hol- 
 croft, as it interested him deeply ; thus he 
 said, in a low soft voice, 
 
 ^You referred to your not being an 
 heiress. Miss Raymond, as if that could 
 possibly make any difference with one who 
 loves you as — as ' 
 
 ' There, there, that will do !' interrupted 
 the impetuous Olive ; ' I am not an heiress.
 
 246 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 in one sense, but very much of a beggar, if 
 you knew all,' she added, in a voice that 
 faltered. 
 
 He regarded her with some bewilder- 
 ment, as well he might, and said, 
 
 ' My dear Miss Eaymond, what am I to 
 understand by this paradox ?' 
 
 'Understand that I must marry my 
 cousin Allan, or forfeit papa's fortune — it 
 goes to him if I refuse, or to charities.' 
 
 Her distinctness and vehemence carried 
 conviction with her words. Holcroft was 
 confounded ; but, being a practised dissem- 
 bler, he only smiled, and said, 
 
 * A most remarkable arrangement, and a 
 tyrannical one for you. But suppose the 
 Master had died in his boyhood — or were 
 to die now ?' 
 
 ' The will would be worthless in effect, 
 of course, I suppose,' replied Olive, whose 
 cheeks now burned scarlet, for — always a 
 creature of hot impulse — she now thought^
 
 A EEVELATION TO HOLCROFT. 247 
 
 hvhy sbould I havepermittedmyself to speak 
 to him, one, almost a stranger, or to any 
 man, of papa's will ? What must he think 
 of me ! Oh, what will Aunt Aberfeldie say?' 
 
 For half a minute Holcroft was silent. 
 He was thinking, ' this must be all bosh ! — 
 a cock and a bull, or a madman's will ; she 
 doesn't know what she is talking about 
 — no woman or girl ever knows business. 
 Well — I've a pull on her anyway ; a vis- 
 count's niece isn't in a fellow's power every 
 day, as she will find herself in mine.' 
 
 What he referred to we shall show ere 
 long. 
 
 While Olive was still crimson with re- 
 flections on her own imprudence, Holcroft 
 took possession of her passive hands, and 
 said, in a partly assumed voice of agitation, 
 
 ' You told me. Miss Eaymond — let me 
 say Olive — a minute or two ago that you 
 did not care for me. I shall not take that 
 as your final answer ; and ere I leave
 
 248 THE MASTER OF ABEEEELDIE. 
 
 Dundargue, when I again venture to speak 
 to you on the subject nearest my heart, 
 your reply ' 
 
 ' Will too probably be the same/ replied 
 Olive, wrenching away her hands, as steps 
 were heard near, and she hastily re-entered 
 the house. 
 
 The footsteps heard were those of Allan, 
 who came leisurely up the flight, a broad 
 and stately one, which led to the terrace. 
 He had, while proceeding down the avenue, 
 observed the pair together, and, as it seem- 
 ed to him, in rather too close proximity. 
 He also remarked Olive's abrupt departure, 
 at Ms approach as he supposed, and his 
 soul become ireful within him ; but he felt 
 himself, as he gave a hand to Holcroft, 
 compelled to dissemble. 
 
 So did the latter who met him smilingly. 
 
 ' Welcome home to Dundargue,' he ex- 
 claimed ; * you have come back as unex- 
 pectedly as you went ; but whither ?'
 
 A REVELATION TO HOLCROFT. 249 
 
 ' Only as far as Edmburgh.' 
 
 ' Ah.' The reply seemed rather to re- 
 lieve Holcrof fc. Nothing was known about 
 him there, he thought. 
 
 * A lady was on the terrace with you 
 just now ?' 
 
 'Yes — Miss Raymond/ 
 
 * So I thought — sorry she did not stay.' 
 
 * Why — particularly?' 
 
 ^I have some news that may interest 
 her.' 
 
 ' About whom ?' 
 
 * Herself.' 
 
 ' Hope they are pleasant ?' 
 
 ' That will depend upon how she may 
 view them,' said Allan, with a nod, as he 
 entered the house. 
 
 ' Now, what the deuce has he been up to 
 — this fellow, with his hair cut to the 
 military pattern— Newgate crop, I should 
 call it— he looks queer this morning,' mut- 
 tered Holcroft, as he selected a cigar from
 
 250 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 bis case, bit the end off with his sharp 
 white teeth, and proceeded to smoke it with 
 brief, augrj, and unen joy able puffs that 
 indicated a mind full of bitterness and ill 
 at ease. Olive's communication had been 
 a sudden revelation to him.
 
 251 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ALLAN PROVES MYSTERIOUS. 
 
 If Allan's sudden departure and unexplain- 
 ed absence excited some curiosity in the 
 minds of his family, his return excited it 
 afresh when he declined to make any 
 explanation until he had held an interview 
 with his cousin, Olive Eaymond, who, for 
 a time, secluded herself in her own room 
 on the usual feminine plea of having a 
 headache. 
 
 Eveline, who had so longed for his re- 
 turn, now with tears told him of her 
 fathers frequently expressed wish — nay.
 
 252 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIE. 
 
 command, and Sir Paget's forthcoming 
 proposal; but, full of his own miseries, he 
 could only caress her and say, 
 
 * God bless you, little one. I wish you 
 well over all this/ 
 
 Sir Paget had left Dundargue pending 
 the final arrangements, as he thought ; thus 
 the cloud and the dread were hanging over 
 her still. 
 
 * Has Olive received back her gold bangle 
 — my gift — from Mr. Holcroft ?' asked 
 Allan, with knitted brows. 
 
 ' I — I think not. How did you learn he 
 had it ?' 
 
 ' Plainly enough — I saw it on his 
 wrist !' 
 
 ' Where he put it, in play — not she.' 
 ' I should hope not, by Jove !' 
 ' I know she has asked him for it re- 
 peatedly.' 
 
 * Can't make the bescarar out.' 
 
 * I can — he thinks Olive an heiress.
 
 ALLAN PROVES MYSTERIOUS. 253 
 
 Allan's dark brow became more deeply 
 knitted. 
 
 'She thinks that if she married you, 
 Allan dear,' said his sister, after a pause, 
 * she would be sacrificing her own pride and 
 liberty, and that you might marry her 
 though not caring for her ' 
 
 ' But for that wretched money ?' said 
 Allan, with a kind of snort. ' Poor Olive 
 — she views the situation in this light ! I 
 certainly shall not ask her to make any 
 sacrifices for me, and, so far as I am con- 
 cerned, she shall be free as a bird in the air.' 
 
 His sister regarded him now with some 
 perplexity, not understanding what he 
 meant, but said, 
 
 'You have just come in time for a little 
 carpet-dance we have arranged as a fare- 
 well treat to Ruby Logan, Mr, Holcroft, 
 and — and Evan Cameron, who are about 
 to leave Dundargue.' 
 
 Allan noted the inflection of her voice
 
 254 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 as she uttered the name of his young brother 
 officer, and then hurried away, as their 
 mother entered the room, and with rather 
 a cloudy expression in her face, though he 
 hastened to kiss her. 
 
 * You have been to Edinburgh, I have 
 heard,' she said. 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' About what, Allan ?' 
 
 * That you will learn in time, mother. I 
 must speak with Olive first.' 
 
 Lady Aberfeldie was full of irrepressible 
 curiosit}^, but Allan declined to gratify it 
 just then. 
 
 ' Have your recent movements any re- 
 ference to Olive?' 
 
 ' You will learn in time, mother.' 
 
 Lady Aberfeldie's face shaded with an- 
 noyance, for, only the day before, she and 
 the petulant young lady in question had 
 indulged in a tift between them. 
 
 Perceivinof a wistful look and fitful man-
 
 ALLAN PROVES MYSTERIOUS. 255 
 
 ner about Olive, and that slie was more 
 than usually restless and irritable, Lady 
 Aberfeldie had unwisely spoken to her on 
 the subject of Allan's regard for her. 
 
 Olive had sat for a moment or two, with 
 her delicate hands tightly interlaced in her 
 lap, and then, turning defiantly to her 
 aunt, she said, 
 
 * I will never marry Allan !' 
 
 *You must marry Allan, my dear girl,' 
 replied Lady Aberfeldie, calmly and firmly. 
 
 * Why ?' 
 
 ' You know your father's wish/ 
 ' Oh, the will, of course ! So I am to be 
 treated like a child? Well, if so, I may 
 prove a wilful and dangerous one !' 
 
 Her aunt's report of this conversation 
 made Lord Aberfeldie more than ever 
 anxious for the return of his son. 
 
 * You are very mysterious, Allan. You 
 and Olive seem a pair of enigmas,' said 
 Lady Aberfeldie. 'But your father waits
 
 256 THE MASTER OE ABERFELDIE. 
 
 you in the library, and perhaps you will 
 condescend to confide in him, if not in me, 
 I must own it will be a fatal thing for your 
 future happiness if Olive thinks you seek 
 her for gain ; but for what does Mr. Hol- 
 croft so evidently seek her ?' 
 Allan smiled disdainfully. 
 
 * T have tried to think, mother dear, that 
 she is not affected by this person Holcroft, 
 but begin to own to myself that '' the faith 
 that worketh miracles" is not in me.' 
 
 When questioned by his father, Allan 
 made the same reticent reply, that he must 
 see Olive before making any explanations. 
 
 ' The time has come now, Allan,' said 
 Lord Aberfeldie, ' when you are bound in 
 honour to make your cousin an offer, for 
 in this peculiar entanglement — for such, 
 I grant you, it is — you and she do not stand 
 in the position of most engaged persons.' 
 
 * But suppose I have no wish to 
 marry '
 
 ALLAN PROVES MYSTERIOUS. 257 
 
 * Absurd — outrageous !' 
 
 ' Or may not marry at all ?' 
 *By the refusal of Olive?' 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 * Then her fortune, or most of it, becomes 
 yours, in terms of the will ' 
 
 ' Which has been a curse to us both. In 
 her mind, and in the eyes of all who may 
 come to hear of it, we must lie under the 
 degrading imputation of a mercenary 
 motive.' 
 
 'Not if you act with tact and delicacy, 
 and surely your boy-and-girl attachment 
 must remain unchanged,' said Lord Aber- 
 feldie, in a voice that was soft, rather than 
 indignant, as his memory went back to the 
 day when Olive first came a little orphan 
 child to Dundargue— a tiny and graceful 
 creature, with tender, wondering, and be- 
 seeching eyes — a child that climbed upon 
 his knee, clung to him with sympathetic 
 love, and played with his watch-chain or 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 the tassels of his sash, if he was in uniform. 
 ^And so/ he added, after a pause, ' jou must 
 propose to the dear girl as a mere matter of 
 form.' 
 
 ' I have already done so,' said Allan, re- 
 calliDg, what he was not likely to forget, 
 all that had occurred during the homeward 
 ride from Dunsinane. 
 
 'Well, sir?' asked his father. 
 
 * I was laughed at — mocked, I may say.' 
 'Impossible! The girl must have been 
 
 jesting with you.' 
 
 ' I do not think so,' said Allan, both sad- 
 ly and bitterly as he thought of the bangle 
 and many other circumstances, the inevit- 
 able ' trifles light as air.' 
 
 * Wei], you are bound to renew your 
 proposal.' 
 
 ' I do not think so, nor shall I agaiu, 
 unless some change comes over her.' 
 
 ' If I exert my authority as guardian 
 and trustee '
 
 ALLAN PROVES MYSTERIOUS. 259 
 
 ' She may run away. Olive is a proud 
 and restlessgirl with a defiant spirit, though 
 she has a very affectionate heart.' 
 
 ' But you cannot expect that she is to 
 propose to yoiL 
 
 ' I do love her, father — love her dearly ; 
 but fear that she views me too much as a 
 brother to love me otherwise.' 
 
 ' This is rank nonsense. Think of your 
 separations, and of your last — one well 
 nigh seven years — with the Black Watch.' 
 
 ' But might it not be the case that she 
 may have 2i, penchant for some one else ? 
 
 ' For whom ?' asked Lord Aberfeldie, 
 angrily. 
 
 ' Well, say for your friend Mr. Holcroft.' 
 
 * Penniless Hawke Holcroft ! absurd — 
 the man has seen but little of her.' 
 
 ' Quite enough in London and here to 
 learn to admire, if not to love her. I would, 
 however, rather see her laid in her grave 
 than married to Holcroft,' said Allan, in a 
 
 s2
 
 260 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIE. 
 
 stern but broken voice, adding under 
 his breath, as he left his father's presence 
 and cut short an unpleasant interview,. 
 * but, so far as I am concerned, she shall be 
 free to choose for herself — free as the wind.' 
 
 ' What the deuce can all this mean T 
 exclaimed Lord Aberfeldie, in great per- 
 plexity ; ^ was ever an unfortunate man 
 more troubled with two intractable girls, 
 than I am with Eveline and Olive !' 
 
 It has been said that, ' if exceedingly few 
 men and women understand each other 
 when they are in their sober senses, how 
 must it fare when they are under the 
 blinding influence of love ?' 
 
 But Allan's course of action was decided 
 now.
 
 261 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 OLIVE CHANGES HER MIND. 
 
 ' You are pleased to see me again, Olive ?* 
 
 ' Of course, Allan — why do you ask me ?' 
 she exclaimed, putting both her hands into 
 his in vt^elcome. 
 
 He retained them with a tender pressure 
 for half a minute, looking the while wist- 
 fully into her violet eyes, and then he let 
 theni drop from his clasp. 
 
 ' You wish particularly to speak with me, 
 I understand ?' said Olive, nervously think- 
 ing it must refer to the tete-a-tete he had 
 overseen on the terrace.
 
 262 THE MASTER OF AEERFELDIE. 
 
 ^Yes — particularly, dear Olive.' 
 
 When he saw her tender beauty, her 
 grace, and her witchery, and felt all the 
 subtle charm of her presence, his heart 
 was wrung by the thought that, by the 
 very act he had the power to do, and the 
 suggestions he was about to make to her, 
 he might place her at the entire disposal of 
 Hawke Holcrof t, of whose real character he 
 now knew more than formerly. 
 
 How variable had been the emotions she 
 had, ever since his return from India, ex- 
 hibited towards him ! By turns she had 
 been changeable and indifferent apparent- 
 ly ; playful, petulant, and imperious ; yet 
 always bewitching and sweet. 
 
 Seeing the cloudy and sad expression 
 of his eye, Olive said, 
 
 ' You have not come to scold me for 
 anything, Allan. We are at least 
 friends.' 
 
 ' Would we were more,' said Allan, re-
 
 OLIVE CHANGES HER MIND. 26B 
 
 membering what his father had urged but a 
 few minutes before. 
 
 ' Surely to be cousins is a near enough 
 relationship.' 
 
 ' Olive/ said he, reproachfully, ^ unless 
 you have formed a distinct attachment for 
 some one else, I must say I do not under- 
 stand you.' 
 
 'I don't want you to understand me,' 
 she replied, with half-averted face. 
 
 ' Why are you so hard with me ?' he ex« 
 claimed, with a wistful, longing, and mis- 
 erable expression in his eyes. 
 
 She made no reply, so he spoke again. 
 
 ^ I have had a long consultation with our 
 family agent in Edinburgh.' 
 
 ' About what ?' 
 
 * Your affairs and mine, Olive.' 
 
 'i¥7/ affairs?' 
 
 ' Yes, and I have obtained the opinion of 
 Ruby Logan's father, and of counsel of 
 much higher — yes, of the highest — repute
 
 264 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 on the vexed subject of your fathers 
 will — vexed at least between you and I, 
 Olive.' 
 
 She gazed at him with something of 
 vacant surprise blended with inquiry in her 
 face. 
 
 * What I am about to suggest may be 
 dangerous, as I do not know the terms on 
 which you permit yourself to be with this — 
 Mr. Holcroft — but I have had excellent 
 legal advice, and ' 
 
 * Legal advice — oh, indeed !' she interrupt- 
 ed, with a toss of her pretty head ; * that is 
 well, for the laws as made by you men rank 
 us women with children and lunatics. And 
 what says this advice ?' 
 
 ' That you can be freed from the tram- 
 mels of your father's will — free, and the 
 inheritrix of your own great wealth.' 
 
 She regarded him for a minute with 
 blank astonishment; then as bright joy 
 like suDshine spread over her sweet face
 
 OLIVE CHANGES HER MIND. 265 
 
 and sparkled in the deptli of her eyes, she 
 exclaimed, in a low voice, 
 
 * Free, do you say, free in my own actions, 
 and free to bestow papa's money how and 
 on whom I please ?' 
 
 * On whom you please,' replied Allan, 
 thinking with intense mortification on Hol- 
 croft, and Holcrof t only ; for personally he 
 was far above thinking of the fortune that 
 might otherwise be his own, as the stars 
 are above the earth. ^ Let me but see all 
 this matter fully arranged and then I shall 
 be content,' said he, after a pause, during 
 which they had been regarding each other ; 
 he, her with sadness, and she him with be- 
 wilderment. ' There are rumours in the 
 air of a turn-up with the Turks, and of a 
 war in Egypt, and right glad I am of that !' 
 
 ' Why, Allan ?' 
 
 ' Because I'll get attached to the first 
 army corps that sails, even if the Black 
 Watch is not going ; but that it is sure to
 
 266 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 be, as, thank God! the dear old corps is 
 always in everything.' 
 
 ^ And why this joy T 
 
 ' To get as far away from you as possible/ 
 he replied, bluntly, in a hollow tone. 
 
 * Must you do so, Allan ?' 
 
 ' Yes, unless I mean to drive myself 
 mad.' 
 
 *Do you really love me so much — and — 
 and,' she paused, for she seemed touched, 
 her sweet lips were quivering now. 
 
 ' What more ?' 
 
 * For myself alone,' she asked, softly. 
 ' Love you — oh, Olive.' 
 
 * There now, don't ! ' she exclaimed, 
 turning away her face, and Allan shrank 
 back. 
 
 ^ Playing with me, after all — after all 1' 
 he muttered. * Will you please to look at 
 the opinion of counsel,' he added, drawing 
 from his pocket a folio document, stitched 
 with a red thread, and with a broad margin.
 
 OLIVE CHANGES HER MIND. 267 
 
 ' What a loDg story !' she exclaimed, as 
 she glanced at and read, 
 
 ' Chambers, Edinburgh. 
 ' Copy of Counsers opinion referred to in 
 letter of 20th October, 1882, on the will of 
 the late Oliver Raymond, Esq, of Jamaica, 
 with note of fees thereon.' 
 
 ' What a fearful long story !' exclaimed 
 Olive again. ' Tell me all about it, Allan ? 
 but pray don't read it.' 
 
 ' The will of your father is herein de- 
 nounced as eccentric — one that no court of 
 law would enforce, nor could uphold, as in 
 more than one instance it is not conceived in 
 strictly legal terms, and, to all intents and 
 purposes, can be put aside if you choose. 
 Thus, Olive, you are free — free from all 
 the bonds — if such ever existed — that seem- 
 ed to bind you to me ; and I thank God that 
 it is so, and I shall go to Egypt, perhaps, 
 with a lighter heart. All that now remains
 
 26S THE MASTER OF AJBERFELDIE. 
 
 to be done is to take the means, if such 
 are necessary, to have the document set 
 aside as so much waste paper, and you duly 
 made mistress of your inheritance, as you 
 are now of age, in England, at least, where 
 it is invested. Thus, you see, Olive, this 
 opinion of counsel is most valuable to you.' 
 
 Her soft eyes were brimming over with 
 tears now, as she mechanically took the 
 document in her tremulous fingers. 
 
 ' And thus you relinquish me ?' she said. 
 
 ' I relinquish, gladly, your fortune, and 
 all control over your actions, if — you 
 choose.' 
 
 *Bat I don't choose! Oh, Allan, how 
 generous all this is of you. But I shall not 
 be less so, nor will I act upon this opinion 
 of counsel.' 
 
 *How?' 
 
 ' See, thus !' 
 
 And, tearing it into pieces, she cast them 
 into the fire-o^rate.
 
 OLIVE CHANGES HER MIND. 269 
 
 ' Illegal as it may be, papa's will must be 
 now a law to me more than ever.' 
 ' And you, Olive ?' 
 
 * Love you, dear Allan, and love you dear- 
 ly,' cried the wilful and impulsive girl, as 
 all her heart went forth to him, and he 
 pressed her to his breast at last. 
 
 Doubt, pride, defiance, and petulance 
 had all passed away, and Olive was all soft- 
 ness, love, and joy now ; and to the pair 
 time seemed for a term to stand still, and 
 save their caressing words softly murmured, 
 and the twitter of birds among the ivy 
 without, silence appeared to reign in this 
 room ; and nothing seemed to disturb them, 
 till Olive suddenly started from Allan's 
 arms. 
 
 ' What is it, love ?' he asked. 
 
 ' A face at the window !' 
 
 ' Whose face ?' 
 
 * I know not,' she replied, with some 
 agitation. ^ It has just vanished.'
 
 270 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIB. 
 
 She thought, nay, she was sure, it had 
 the features of Hawke Holcroft, but she 
 did not say so. If it were he, how much 
 had he overheard, how much overseen 1 
 
 But she sopn forgot the episode, and that 
 night at dinner she looked more radiant 
 than ever, in her suite of Maltese jewellery 
 — gold set with orient pearls. 
 
 ' It is usual for engaged ladies to have a 
 ring,' Allan had whispered, as he slipped a 
 magnificently jewelled hoop upon her 
 mystic finger. 
 
 ' Fool that I have been 1' thought the 
 girl. ' How near was I estranging one of 
 the best and dearest of men in the world, 
 not for the sake of one immeasurably his 
 inferior, even worthless perhaps, but in a 
 spirit of vanity, pique, and suspicion !' 
 
 ' Allan,' she whispered to him softly, 
 when an opportunity came, * I see now how 
 foolish I have been and wilful — oh, so wil- 
 ful ! But we all make mistakes in life, and
 
 OLIVE CHANGES HEE, MIND. 271 
 
 require at times each other's pity aud for- 
 giveness.' 
 
 How sweetly and shyly she looked and 
 spoke. 
 
 Hawke Holcroft felt intuitively, and 
 indeed saw, that there was some sudden 
 change in the bearing of the pair to each 
 other, and that a sudden brightness had 
 come into the faces of all — even that of 
 Eveline, usually now so triste and pale — and 
 under his sandy moustache he ' wondered 
 what the devil it all meant,' till his watch- 
 ful eyes detected the new and brilliant ring 
 on the engaged finger of Olive Eaymond ! 
 
 If Mr. Hawke Holcroft imao-ined he had 
 nothing to dread personally from the Mas- 
 ter's sudden visit to Edinburgh he reckon- 
 ed without his host, as he would have found 
 had he overheard a brief conversation 
 which took place between Allan and his 
 comrade, young Cameron, as they loitered
 
 272 THE MASTER OP ABERFELDIE. 
 
 in the gun-room looking over old Joe-Man- 
 tons, new rifles, and central-fire breech- 
 loaders, &c. 
 
 He was not slow to perceive very soon 
 that Allan, usually so suave and pleasant 
 in manner, treated him now with a kind of 
 stiffness that was almost hauteur ; but he 
 dissembled his rage and so did Allan, who 
 had a keen sense of the laws of hospitality, 
 with the genuine British dread of aught 
 that might approach a ' scene,' more than 
 all as the visit of Holcroft was nearly 
 ended. 
 
 Poor wretch! he strove well to keep a 
 brave front in society, while letters that 
 often lay beside his plate at breakfast were 
 seen to clond his brow with perplexity, for 
 they alluded to wrong horses backed, 
 I. 0. U.'s, bills, and cheques ' referred to 
 drawer,' and so forth, and he must have 
 left Dundargue before this, but for a friend- 
 ly slip of paper, which he had received from
 
 OLIVE CHANGES HER MIND. 273 
 
 Lord Aberfeldie, that * Fool of Quality,' as 
 he thousrht him. 
 
 ' Look here, Cameron,' said Allan, as the 
 twain smoked their cigars in a quiet place. 
 *It is little wonder to me that yon, Sir 
 Pacret Puddicombe, and one or two others 
 lost at cards with Holcroft as you did. I 
 dined with our fellows at the mess in the 
 Castle when I went to Edinburgh. There 
 his name cropped up by the merest chance, 
 and I was told by Carslogie of Ours that 
 he was present at a shindy in London, 
 where this fellow Holcroft, after having an 
 unprecedented run at cards at a place in 
 St. James Street, was accused of having the 
 ace of trumps up his sleeve, from whence 
 it fell when he was shying a bottle at the 
 accuser's head. He talks to the pater 
 largely of his '' place in Essex," or what re- 
 mains of it. Involved in debt to a ruinous 
 extent, he gave bills right and left, which 
 were dishonoured. £10,000 hadbeen rais- 
 
 VOL, I. T
 
 274 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 ed upon "his estate, in wliicli he liad only a 
 reversionary interest, and, when the mort- 
 gagees called in their money, and the estate 
 was sold, it did not suffice to pay a tithe of 
 the sums he had raised in every conceivable 
 way, and everyone lost their money all 
 round. Sharp that ! Yet he scraped 
 through without punishment.' 
 
 ' By Jove !' 
 
 ' Worse still. Carslogie told me he was 
 suspected of causing a horse to fail in a race 
 through having the bit poisoned ; and how 
 he left a young fellow in the Hussars at 
 Maidstone in the lurch, by refusing at the 
 last moment to ride for him a peculiarly 
 vicious horse, which he had solemnly under- 
 taken to do, and so causing him to lose the 
 race, on which he had most imprudently 
 made a ruinously heavy book.' 
 
 * And how did it end ?' 
 
 ' The report of a pistol that night in the 
 cavalry barrack announced that the Hussar
 
 OLIVE CHANGES HEE MIND. 275 
 
 had shot himself — that is all ! And this 
 is the '' young man of the period " whom 
 mv father's confiding simplicity has made 
 a welcome guest for some weeks back at 
 Dundargue, and thrown into the society of 
 my sister and Olive ! But I shall fully open 
 his eyes the moment our visitor is gone.' 
 
 But it was rather a pity for his own sake 
 that Allan did not ^ open' Lord Aberfeldie's 
 eves a little before that event, and such be- 
 ingthe character of Mr. Hawke Holcroft the 
 reader may feel less surprised at some of 
 the things we may have to record of him 
 ere loner. 
 
 T 2
 
 276 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE CAKPET-DANCE, AND WHAT CAME OE IT. 
 
 Though somewhat of the nature of an 
 impromptu affair, the 'carpet-dance' partook 
 of something of a more important kind. 
 Many guests were invited ; the ladies were 
 in semi-toilet and. the gentlemen in evening 
 dress : but the great dancing-room at Dun- 
 dargue was decorated to perfection bj the 
 care of Mr. Tappletoo, the butler, the 
 housekeeper, and gardener, with the rarest 
 plants, flowers, and ferns the conservatories 
 could produce, disposed in China and Jap- 
 anese jars on pedestals and marble console
 
 THE CARPET-DANCE. 277 
 
 tables of the time of Louis XIY., at whose 
 court a Lord Aberfeldie had once been 
 ambassador. 
 
 The fete had been brought about by the 
 two fair cousins as a farewell treat to the 
 last of their present guests, who were 
 departing — Ruby Logan, Stratherroch, 
 and — Mr. Holer oft ! 
 
 Greatly to Eveline's relief, Sir Paget was 
 gone, but, as if to worry her further, Sir 
 Paget left for her — with Lady Aberfeldie 
 — a letter referring to his admiration and 
 regard for her since the last season in 
 London, and with it a handsome diamond 
 necklet — the sight of which in its fragrant 
 E/Ussian-leather case she loathed — with 
 the hope that she would accept and wear 
 it, in token that she was holding out bril- 
 liant hopes to him when ' they met in town 
 again.' 
 
 Eveline flatly declined to accept and wear 
 the jewellery, so, to her intense annoyance,
 
 278 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 it remained as yet in her mother's hands. 
 She was 'biding her time/ 
 
 The wealthy suitor had attained a bat- 
 tered middle-age, while Eveline was still in 
 the glory of her youth. True, but he had 
 both wealth and rank to offer, for though 
 she was an ' Honourable Miss,' he was a 
 baronet, and so far as his love went, if it 
 came late in life, it was, nevertheless, a 
 kind of overmastering passion. 
 
 The new emotions of her heart caused 
 Eveline to reflect more than perhaps she 
 had ever done before. It seemed but yes- 
 terday since she and Olive conned their 
 tasks and practised their scales together 
 under the eyes of a governess ; since they 
 had gathered bouquets of wild flowers from 
 the clefts of the rocks of Dundargue, and 
 made fairy caps of rushes and harebells by 
 the burnside ; happy children both ; but 
 how miserable she was now that she was on 
 the verge of womanhood, and had learned
 
 THE CARPET- DANCE. 279 
 
 to love and to hate ; for she loved Evan 
 Cameron, and hated — yes, and she blushed 
 as she admitted it to herself — she did hate 
 that smiling and rubicund old interloper. 
 Sir Paget. 
 
 ^ And you will not wear the necklet ?^ 
 said Lady Aberfeldie, for the last time. 
 
 ' Do please to excuse me, dearest mamma 
 — I cannot — yet a while.' 
 
 Lady Aberfeldie was pleased by the half 
 obedience these words implied. 
 
 ' What ornaments will you wear then ?' 
 she asked. * You have so many to choose 
 from.' 
 
 * Let me wear the lovely diamond neck- 
 lace that lies in the strong casket in your 
 room, mamma.' 
 
 Lady Aberfeldie's calm, patrician face 
 darkened. 
 
 ' I would rather you wore no diamonds 
 at all, child; and these I never wear my- 
 self.'
 
 280 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 'But why, mamma?' 
 
 * Because that necklace always brings 
 evil to whoever wears it/ 
 
 ' So I have heard. But it is a silly 
 superstition, and they are such lovely 
 stones ! But what is the story of them ?' 
 
 * The wife of a cavalier who died with 
 Montrose on the scaffold of Edinburgh 
 gave them to an ancestor of ours to save 
 his life. This was the first viscount, who 
 was a zealous Covenanter, and the bosom 
 friend of Lord Warriston. He certainly 
 took the jewels from the poor sorrowing 
 wife ' 
 
 ' And the cavalier ?' 
 
 ^Was beheaded by the Maiden at the 
 market-cross, and a kind of curse seems to 
 have attended these diamonds ever since.' 
 
 ' A cruel story.' 
 
 * But a true one.' 
 
 Eveline laughed at the superstition, kiss- 
 ed her cold, proud mother, and carried her
 
 THE CARPET-DANCE. 281 
 
 point ; tlius, at the time when carriage after 
 carriage was depositing guests at tlie great 
 arched entrance hall, Eveline was survey- 
 ing her figure and face in the mirror with 
 all a young girl's satisfaction and think- 
 ing that her slender white throat never look- 
 ed as it did then, when encircled by the 
 sparkling diamonds of the luckless widow, 
 and Olive at the same time v/as looking 
 radiant in the Maltese suite of Allan. 
 
 How the two last named enjo37-ed the 
 €arpet-dance ! Perfect confidence was so 
 sweetly established between them, they had 
 so many little secrets to tell, so many 
 revelations to make, so many comparisons, 
 of mutual hopes and fears, and so forth, 
 while each seemed to exult in the affection 
 of the other, and felt in their hearts the 
 words ascribed to old Catullus : — 
 
 ' Let those love now who never loved before. 
 Let those who always loved, now love the more !' 
 
 * Those two young fools seem to under-
 
 282 TEE MASTER OF ABERFELDTE. 
 
 stand each other and each other's interests 
 at last !' whispered Lord to Lady Aber- 
 feldie, with a smile of amusement. 
 
 'But there are two other young fools 
 present who are doing their best to mar 
 each other's interests/ was her cold and 
 warning response. 
 
 Hawke Holcroft's shifty eyes lowered as 
 he watched the cousins and whirled in a 
 waltz with Ruby Logan or any other girl 
 who came to hand. He was in utter per- 
 plexity to find the new footing on which 
 these hitherto strange lovers so suddenly 
 were, and that he himself was, as he felt 
 and thought, ' nowhere !' 
 
 W hat could she mean ? There was some- 
 thing of radiance in the faces of all the 
 family — even of the sweetly pensive Eve- 
 line — all indicative of a new movement that 
 he was out of. 
 
 'As for Olive,' he muttered, while a sen- 
 timent of rage, mingled with avarice and
 
 THE CASPET-DANCE. 283 
 
 jealousy, grew strong in liis heart, ' she is 
 an infernal weather-cock, but a deuced 
 handsome one !' 
 
 Ruby Logan was equally puzzled, but 
 found consolation with young Carslogie of 
 the Black Watch, whom Allan had invited 
 to the festivity, and who styled her, with 
 reference to her hair, ' the amber witch.' 
 
 * Happy Olive and Allan,' thought Eve- 
 line, as she rested for a minute on the arm 
 of Cameron, ' they may have as many round 
 dances as they choose without remark, 
 while mine, with him^ must be few and far 
 between.' 
 
 Her dress was white silk, trimmed with 
 little laurel leaves and crowberry — the latter 
 a delicate attention to Evan, as it is the 
 badge of the Camerons. 
 
 ' Will you wear my colours to-night ?' 
 she asked, as they promenaded at that end 
 of the room which was furthest away from 
 * papa and mamma.' She broke off a spray
 
 284 THE MASTEK OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 and made him a button-hole. ^ Allow me 
 to fix it for you,' said Eveline, and deftly 
 she put it in his lapel, while Evan's heart 
 thrilled to feel the touch of her beloved hand 
 — even though gloved — so near his heart, as 
 they swept into another waltz. 
 
 ' Aberfeldie/ said the hostess to her hus- 
 band, * I feel certain that Evan Cameron 
 is in love with our Eveline/ 
 
 Lord Aberfeldie had no doubt about it 
 whatever now, but he only said, 
 
 ' He would be a fool to be otherwise.' 
 
 * But that is not what we seek !' 
 
 ' Certainly not ; but all young fellows 
 have fancies ; and he will be gone from 
 this in a few hours now.' 
 
 * Thank Heaven, yes !' responded Lady 
 Aberfeldie, devoutly. 
 
 ' By the way, why did you permit her to 
 wear those unlucky diamonds ?' 
 
 ' She pled so hard, and then the idea of 
 their briuging evil is so behind the age.'
 
 THE OAEPET-DANCE. 285 
 
 ' Behind the age or not, something unto- 
 ward or unlucky always accompanies their 
 appearance in public. They should have 
 been sent to Bond Street long ago.' 
 
 And Lord Aberfeldie smiled on her affec- 
 tionately, as at that moment he could not 
 help thinking how handsome and young 
 his wife looked in her costume of rich ruby 
 velvet, trimmed at the square cut neck and 
 arms with the finest white old lace, while 
 jewels that an empress might have worn 
 glittered in her ears and hair. 
 
 Replacing sometimes the professional 
 musicians, makinof themselves useful at the 
 piano, and playing certainly good dance 
 music were two — the ' mermaids,' as Hol- 
 croft called them — the minister's daughters, 
 who were usually so fond of warbling that 
 they * were under the blue sea.' 
 
 He knew nothing of what Allan had 
 learned concerning him — of the light Cars- 
 logie had thrown on his private life ; thus,
 
 286 THE MzVSTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 whatever change had come over the spirit 
 of Olive's dream, he deemed it necessary to 
 ask her for, at least, one round dance as 
 usual ; and Allan watched them with a 
 haughty grimace on his features as they 
 danced it in a silent manner that was peculiar 
 and rather oppressive to both. The mo- 
 ment it was over, and he handed her back to 
 a seat, Holcroft took refuge in the re- 
 freshment-room, where Mr. Tappleton gave 
 him a foaming glass of sparkling cham- 
 pagne. 
 
 Young Cameron was rather grave, Allan 
 thought, but the former was oppressed by 
 one idea then, that on the morrow he would 
 have to report himself at the headquarters 
 of the Black Watch, and he gazed like one 
 in a dream at the dancers whirling round 
 him ; so Allan took him to task and strove 
 to rally him. 
 
 * Why so sad, old fellow ? You're down 
 on your luck, somehow,' said he.
 
 THE OARPET-DANCE. 287 
 
 ' Because, Graham,' replied Cameron, 
 with a forced smile, ' there ai^e times when 
 I am inclined to ask with Mr. Mallock, " Is 
 life worth living ?" ' 
 
 ' Of course it is — but how with you ?' 
 
 ^ Well,' replied Cameron, with whom just 
 then one bitter thought was more than 
 usually keen, ' dipped nigh to sinking as 
 my place of Stratherroch is, I don't see so 
 much to live for, and certainly deuced little 
 to live upon.' 
 
 * Don't take this gloomy view, old fellow/ 
 said Allan, cheerfully. 
 
 ' It is very well for you to take a 
 jolly view of the world, Allan — you, the son 
 of a peer, and engaged to ' 
 
 ' Take heart, man ; we've lots of life be- 
 fore us — life in Egypt perhaps. There is 
 Eveline sitting alone ; take another turn 
 with her, and then we'll have some of 
 Mumms' extra dry together.' 
 
 Eveline had opened an album as Cameron
 
 288 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 drew near her, but closed it ins'^antly as 
 tlie first photo that met her eyes was a 
 fine cabinet one of Sir Paget. There was 
 an expression of pensive sweetness in her 
 otherwise radiant face, for she, poor girl, 
 never for a moment forgot that a parting — 
 too probably a final one it might prove — 
 was close at hand now, and, after the two 
 past delightful months, how dreary would 
 the future seem ! 
 
 ' Are you tired ?' said a tender voice in 
 her ear ; ' it is our dance, I think — but 
 would you rather sit it out ?' 
 
 * A little promenade rather.' 
 
 He bowed, and, rising, she took his prof- 
 fered arm. They made a circuit of the 
 room once or twice, and then, lured no 
 doubt by the coolness and seclusion of a 
 long corridor, entered it, unnoticed as they 
 thought ; but the watchful gaze of Lady 
 Aberfeldie had followed them. 
 
 There was much to see in this long,
 
 THE CARPET-DANCE. 289 
 
 stately, and vaulted corridor, and its deeply 
 embayed windows overlooking the rock on 
 which the oldest part of Dundargue is 
 perched. Its floor was of parqueterie ; its 
 walls of wainscot, with massively framed 
 old pictures ; some trophies of arms and 
 family armour hung there, and the 
 windows were furnished with ancient stone 
 seats and modern stained glass, through 
 which the radiance of the setting sun 
 was contending with the dim shaded 
 lamps. 
 
 Specimens of unique china and frail gob- 
 lets of Venetian glass, with other objects 
 of ' bigotry and virtue,' as Holcroft had 
 called them, were there in oaken cabinets 
 and on exquisite brackets. Among other 
 things, on a pedestal, skilfully stuffed, the 
 last golden eagle that had been shot at the 
 Birks of Aberfeldie, by the gun of Dugald 
 Glas, a glorious bird that measured five 
 feet from tip to tip of his shining pinions ; 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIE. 
 
 yet none of these things caught the atten- 
 tion of the two promenaders. 
 
 Her hand was on his arm ; involuntarily 
 that arm pressed the soft and tremulous 
 fingers which rested there, and in another 
 moment his hand stole over them without 
 their being withdrawn — nay, it seemed as 
 if their load became more heavy. 
 
 Eveline was not unaware that there 
 was something morally wrong in the situ- 
 ation ; but, then, ' the situation had its 
 charm.' 
 
 ' Eveline !' 
 
 Cameron had never before ventured to 
 call her by her Christian name, nor, until 
 it passed his lips half unconsciously now, 
 had he an intention of so uttering it ; but 
 that utterance seemed scarcely a new 
 revelation to the girl. 
 
 Soft and lovely was the shy smile upon 
 her upturned face as they stood within the
 
 THE CARPET-DANCE. 291 
 
 deep bay of a window. Was it that smile, 
 or what, that dazed Evan Cameron and 
 swept his senses away ; but he caught her 
 suddenly in his arms and kissed her lips 
 and eyes, whispering, 
 
 ' Oh ! Eveline, my darling — my dar- 
 linsf r 
 
 And then there was a pause, full of 
 sighs of happiness. ' The stone was cast 
 into the water, and the still lake broke up 
 into a stormy sea, where there would be 
 peace and quiet no more !' No more, at 
 least, unless the future held some happi- 
 ness for these two poor loving hearts. 
 
 ' Have I done wrong ?' said Cameron, in 
 a breathless voice, after a little time ; ' God 
 knows I never meant that you should see 
 how dearly, how desperately, and how hope- 
 lessly I love you when I let the precious 
 secret escape me as I did ; but it is done 
 now.' 
 
 u2
 
 292 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 She was pale as death and trembliD^^ 
 violently, as she thought of her mother; 
 yet she nestled closely and clingingly to 
 him. 
 
 ' You love me, Eveline ?' 
 
 * Can you ask ?' she whispered. ' Yes — 
 oh, yes — Evan.' 
 
 He was intoxicated, and drew her close 
 to him again. Such a moment comes but 
 once in life — once only ! 
 
 *Let us go now — we shall be missed/ 
 said Eveline. 
 
 ' Oh, stay one moment longer, dar- 
 ling.' 
 
 ' Mamma, if we could only get her to 
 be our friend, all might be right and go 
 well.' 
 
 ' Even with my poverty, Eveline ?' 
 
 'Don't call it so. Yes, papa always 
 gives in to her in the long run.' 
 
 Cameron sighed.
 
 THE CAEPET-DAKCE. 293 
 
 * Are jou two practising for amateur 
 theatricals, or admiring the stars through 
 the stained glass ?' said the voice of Lord 
 Aberfeldie, suddenly. 
 
 We have said that the eyes of his wife 
 had followed the pair, and hence no doubt 
 his lordship's sudden appearance in the 
 dimly-lighted corridor. Both were pain- 
 fully confused. 
 
 How much had Lord Aberfeldie over- 
 seen, how much had he overheard, or how 
 little of both ? It was impossible for 
 them to guess, but he good-naturedly 
 affected not to see all that his mind 
 took in. 
 
 Cameron felt that he had nothing to 
 explain, to urge, or to utter, but bowed, 
 smiled a very hollow smile indeed, and led 
 his partner back to the dancing-room, 
 where neither waltzed more that evening, 
 as the impromptu affair was over, the
 
 29-1? THE MAST?]Ii OF ABEREELDIE. 
 
 guests were departing, and Lord Aber- 
 feldie was beginning to think that the 
 diamonds of the legend were already 
 producing their evil results in this the first 
 untoward event in the young life of his 
 daughter. 
 
 Allan and Cameron, avoiding Holcroft, 
 sat long that night in the former's room 
 smoking and imbibing brandy-and-soda, 
 but no word escaped the lover of what 
 had passed in the corridor ; and, sooth to 
 say, full of Olive and himself, Allan had 
 never missed the pair from the dancing- 
 room. 
 
 Cameron was to leave Dundargue be- 
 times next morning, so he bade farewell 
 to his comrade, who charged him with 
 remembrances to ' all our fellows of the 
 Black Watch ;' and anon Cameron found 
 himself alone with his own loving, exult- 
 ing, sad, and anxious thoughts, and with
 
 THE CAEPET-DANCE. 295 
 
 the little bouquet — a dwarf laurel leaf and 
 sprig of crowberry — dearer to him then 
 than even his Victoria Cross ! 
 
 Again and again did he rehearse that 
 sweet episode in the dimly-lit corridor, and 
 again and again in the time to come would 
 it return with sorrowful reiteration to his 
 heart and memory; ! 
 
 Eveline loved him ! Her own lips had 
 acknowledged it, her kisses seemed still to 
 linger on his lips ; but to what end — my 
 God ! he exclaimed, in bitterness of heart, 
 to what end ? Ao;ain and ao-ain he thous^ht 
 over her plaintive and child-like wish, ' if 
 we could only get mamma to be our 
 friend,' and all that wish suggested. Her 
 mother suspected much, he feared, and 
 that her father knew all. Sir Paget, with 
 his colossal wealth, was looming in the 
 distance like a simoon to the newly 
 dawned love ; and poor Evan could but
 
 296 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIEc 
 
 come to the terrible conclusion that, like 
 too many others, his penniless love could 
 only be a hopeless one. 
 
 So wore the night away — the last, 
 Cameron was assured, he would ever 
 spend in Dundargue ; and morning came. 
 
 Unslept, Cameron made rapidly the 
 prosaic preparations for his departure, and 
 a valet had borne off his portmanteaus, rugs, 
 and gun-case to the entrance hall, where 
 the sleepy Mr. Tappleton and a wagonette- 
 awaited him. 
 
 As he was about to descend the great, 
 silent staircase, suddenly Eveline, fully 
 dressed for the day and softly slippered, 
 stood before him, her mignonne face very 
 pale, and her soft hazel eyes inflamed by 
 past weeping. 
 
 ' Evan !' 
 
 'My darling!' 
 
 No housemaids were about as yet,
 
 THE CABrET- DANCE. 297 
 
 and no prying eyes were there, nor had 
 Ronald Gair with his pipes blown reveille, 
 
 ' I could not let you go without — with- 
 out one word of farewell,' she sobbed. 
 
 Long and mute was their embrace, and 
 the heart of Cameron swelled as if to burst- 
 ing with mingled love and gratitude. He 
 pressed her to it. It was their parting 
 embrace, and both seemed to feel in it 
 that which a writer has described as * the 
 vibration of an agony.' 
 
 ' I feel as if I were bereft of reason !' he 
 whispered. 
 
 'My poor Evan — my own dear love!' 
 cooed the girl. One kiss more, and he was 
 gone. 
 
 When or where, if ever, would they meet 
 again ? 
 
 Eveline had nervously and sedulously 
 avoided Sir Paget till the time of his de- 
 parture ; and, when he did leave Dundargue
 
 298 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDIE. 
 
 in the dawn, he was only seen off by the 
 old butler ; but Evan Cameron had an un- 
 expected farewell caress, the memory of a 
 sad, soft, and clinging kiss that he was to 
 take away with him to what he deemed the 
 land of bondage, and tearful eyes watched 
 his wagonette as it passed down the 
 avenue and out upon the high-road that led 
 to the railway. 
 
 Evan looked backwards at the tall and 
 stately pile of Dundargue, on which the 
 rays of the rising sun shone redly, and 
 deep in his heart he envied Carslogie, who 
 was to remain behind for a couple of days' 
 shooting. Yet wherefore should he envy 
 any man while Eveline loved him ? was his 
 afterthought. 
 
 And she, poor girl, seemed to feel her- 
 self left most terribly alone with all her 
 sorrow — alone amid her loving family and 
 splendid surroundings, and with Evan's
 
 THE CARPET-DANCE. 299 
 
 words of love lingering in her ear she was 
 soon bidden to school herself to think of 
 Sir Paget, and Sir Paget Puddicombe only ! 
 * The human creature,' it has been written, 
 ^ who would have suited us to every fibre of 
 our being we have not found, or, having 
 found, have not possessed ; but (perhaps) 
 undervalued, and so allowed to pass out 
 of our lives.' 
 
 These tv/o suited each other ' to a fibre,' 
 as our author quaintly puts it, and in per- 
 fect unanimity of sentiment ; and yet for all 
 that they may be compelled to pass out of 
 each other's lives, and live those lives far, 
 far apart. 
 
 Under her mother's^ scrutiny Eveline 
 strove hard to dissemble, and on receiving 
 her morning kiss said, 
 
 ' Well, mamma, no evil has come of the 
 wearing the diamonds — Dundargue has 
 not taken fire.'
 
 800 THE MASTER OF ABEEFELDTE. 
 
 * No, child — indeed, good has come !' 
 
 ' How, mamma?' 
 
 'This morning's mail has brought an en- 
 closure for you — the formal proposal of 
 Sir Paget; 
 
 Eveline was stricken dumb, but thought 
 to herself, 
 
 ' Unhappy I — evil has come !' 
 
 And ere noon was passed she was taken 
 to task by her father in the library, prompt- 
 ed by her mother, no doubt. 
 
 He drew her to him caressingly, and, in- 
 terlacing his fingers upon her head, drew 
 her soft cheek upon his breast. 
 
 ' I think, Eveline,' said he, ' you may 
 know by this time how well I love 
 you.' 
 
 ' I do, indeed, papa,' replied Eveline, 
 in a low voice, but feelinof her heart 
 sink under this unusual prelude never- 
 theless.
 
 THE CAEPET-DANCE. 301 
 
 ' And yet you have been deluding 
 me.' 
 
 ^ Deluding you — I, papa ?' 
 
 ' Yes; 
 
 'Oh, how?' 
 
 ^By encouraging — pardon me, not that 
 — rather by permitting a visitor to encour- 
 age certain hopes. That, you know, it is 
 impossible I should view with favour.' 
 
 * You mean — you mean ' stammered 
 
 Eveline, recalling the episode in the 
 corridor. 
 
 * Evan Cameron.' 
 
 * He is gone,' said she, with difficulty 
 restraining her tears. 
 
 ' To darken the door of Dundargue no 
 more ! Not that I have any fault to find 
 with poor Cameron — a brave fellow who 
 has won his Y.C., and is a Black Watch- 
 man to boot ; but he is Laird of Strath- 
 erroch only in name; his purse does not
 
 802 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. 
 
 come up to tbe requisite standard, and 
 may never do so till both your heads are 
 grey ; but he is gone, as you say, and we 
 shall think of him no more. I have other 
 brighter, better, and richer views for you, 
 my dear child, and I hope you will not 
 disappoint us all. Sir Paget loves you^ 
 and you will think seriously over all 
 this?' 
 
 'How can I do otherwise, papa?' was 
 the dubious response, and the girl stole 
 away to her own room. So wearing the 
 diamonds seemed only to be bringing 
 about a sudden crisis in the affairs of 
 herself and the banished Evan Cameron, 
 for such she deemed him. 
 
 And, ere she went to bed that night, 
 Eveline, poor girl, strove to pray that she 
 might have some guide or assistance up 
 the stony and thorny path which she 
 feared was before her now in life ; but she
 
 THE CARPET-DAXCE. 303 
 
 no longer now bad the deep a,nd unbroken 
 sleep that had ever been her lot the 
 moment her soft cheek touched the pillow. 
 Too nervous to sleep alone, she crept in 
 beside Olive, and, nestling her little face 
 in the white bosom of her cousin, wept 
 long and bitterly. 
 
 But events were now to occur that 
 caused even the brilliant proposal of Sir 
 Paget to be forgotten. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON: PRINTED BY DUNCAN MACDONALD, BLENHEIM HOUSE.
 
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