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diff --git a/41740-8.txt b/41740-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index edec7ed..0000000 --- a/41740-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7066 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ralph Wilton's weird, by Mrs. Alexander - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Ralph Wilton's weird - -Author: Mrs. Alexander - -Release Date: December 30, 2012 [EBook #41740] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD *** - - - - -Produced by Suzanne Shell, Martin Pettit and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -BY THE SAME AUTHOR - -(_Leisure-Hour Series_) - -THE WOOING O'T - -WHICH SHALL IT BE? - -RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. - - - - -_LEISURE HOUR SERIES_ - -RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD - -_A NOVEL_ - -BY -MRS. ALEXANDER - -AUTHOR OF "THE WOOING O'T" AND "WHICH SHALL IT BE?" - -[Illustration: Logo] - -NEW YORK -HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY -1875 - - -JOHN F. TROW & SON, PRINTERS, -205-213 EAST 12TH ST., NEW YORK. - - - - -RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - -The yellow sunlight of a crisp October day was lighting up the faded -though rich hangings, and the abundant but somewhat blackened gilding, -of a large study or morning-room in one of the stately mansions of -Mayfair, nearly fourteen years ago. - -Bookcases and escritoires, writing-tables and reading-tables more or -less convenient, easy-chairs, print-stands furnished with well-filled -portfolios, pictures, bronzes, all the signs and tokens of wealth, were -there, but nothing new. An impress of extinct vitality was stamped upon -the chamber and all it contained. The very fire burned with a dull, -continuous glow, neither flaming nor crackling. - -On one side of this fire, his back to the light, in a high leathern -chair, sat an old man. Originally slight in frame, he now looked -attenuated. His blue, brass-buttoned coat, though evidently from the -hands of an artist, hung loosely upon him. His thin gray hair was -carelessly brushed back from a brow not high but peculiarly wide, a -straight, refined nose, a square-cut chin, a thin-lipped, slightly cruel -mouth, a tint of the deadliest pallor--all these combined to make his -countenance at once attractive and repellent. There was a certain -dignity in his attitude as he leaned against the side of the large -chair, in which he was almost lost, one thin, small white hand resting -on the arm of his seat, the other playing, in a manner evidently -habitual, with a couple of seals hanging in by-gone fashion from a black -ribbon. - -He was gazing at the fire, and listening to a meek looking semi-genteel -young man, who, seated at a table with a neatly folded packet of papers -before him, was reading aloud from a letter. But the lecture was -interrupted. - -The door was thrown open by an archdeaconal butler, who announced, in a -suppressed voice and impressive manner, "Colonel Wilton, my lord." - -Whereupon entered a soldierly looking man, above middle height, his -broad shoulders and compact waist, duly displayed by an incomparably -fitting frock-coat, closely buttoned, and worn with the indescribable -carriage that life-long assured position and habitual command only can -bestow. A bold, sunburnt, and somewhat aquiline face, a pair of -eagle-like brown eyes, and plenty of red-brown wavy hair, whisker, and -moustache, entitled the possessor to be termed by partial comrades "a -good-looking fellow." - -The old nobleman stood up, and, raising his cold, steely, keen blue -eyes, with an extension of his thin lips intended for a smile, held out -his slight, fine hand. - -"I am glad to see Colonel Wilton," he said, in a low, sweet voice, which -must have been peculiarly charming before age had thinned its -tones.--"You may leave us, Mr. Robbins," he added; whereupon the young -man at the writing-table took up his papers and departed.--"I am obliged -to you," continued Lord St. George, "for obeying my summons so promptly; -it was more than I expected, considering how often you must have been in -town without calling upon your recluse kinsman." - -"My dear lord," said Colonel Wilton, with a frank smile, taking the -chair placed for him, "I never thought a visit from me would be -acceptable. I supposed that I must excite the natural aversion which is -generally felt for junior and unendowed relatives, so I kept out of the -way." Colonel Wilton's voice was not unlike his host's, though deeper -and richer. - -"Unendowed or not, you are almost the only relative who has never asked -me a favor," returned the old man. - -"Had I wanted anything I suppose I should have asked for it," said -Colonel Wilton, good-humoredly; "but my ambition is professional, and -fortune has favored me beyond my deserts." - -"You are a young colonel." - -"Only brevet." - -"Ay, I remember; you got your first step after that affair of the -rifle-pits." - -"Exactly; then I volunteered for our second battalion when the mutiny -broke out, saw a good deal of very unpleasant service, was slightly hit, -got fever, more from fatigue than wounds, was ordered home on sick -leave, and found my brevet awaiting me. I have just returned from the -German baths--and now, my lord, I am at your service." - -"You want to know why I sent for you--you shall hear presently;" the old -men paused abruptly. "You are like, and yet unlike, your father," he -resumed; "you know, I suppose, that, although but first cousins, we -might have been brothers, we hated each other so well?" - -"I have heard something of it," returned Wilton, coolly, though the -smiling, frank expression passed from his face; "but I have lived so -much among strangers that I am lamentably ignorant of the family -hatreds." - -Lord St. George looked up, and played more rapidly with his seals. "I -have been a broken man for many years," he resumed, after a short -pause, "and latterly a complete recluse. Men are such knaves, and life -is such a round of folly, amusement, and ambition, and 'lofty -aspirations,' as modern scribblers have it, such dust and ashes, that I -can with unusual truth say I am weary! I dare say you are wondering why -I inflict this Jeremiad upon you--I hardly know myself; however, it is -finished. I suppose you are aware that a very small portion of my -property is attached to the title of St. George?" - -Colonel Wilton bowed, and listened with increasing interest. "My -Worzelshire estates and Welsh mines," continued the old lord, "came to -me through my mother, and are to dispose of as I choose. A ruined tower -and some worthless moorland is all that will come by right to you. It is -in my power to make you that most wretched of failures--a poor nobleman, -or to bequeath you means to ruffle it with the best." - -"You must do as seems best in your eyes," said Colonel Wilton, with the -same good-humored, well-bred independence which had characterized his -manner all through the interview, when the peer stopped, as if for a -reply. - -"I am by no means inclined to separate my property from my title--but it -is all in my own hands--I have no claims upon me--no nearer relative -than yourself. All that I have heard of you is tolerably creditable to -the family name, and I am inclined to give you the means to keep up the -old title. There is one point, however, on which I should like you to -understand and conform to my wishes. You are, of course, aware of the -circumstance which has blighted my life--the latter half of it?" - -Although it seemed impossible that any living cheek could be paler than -Lord St. George's, it grew a shade more ghastly as he spoke. - -"Yes, yes," returned Colonel Wilton, with a sort of quick sympathy. "Do -not, if possible, distress yourself by alluding to it." - -"I must, Ralph--I must!" It was the first time the viscount had called -him by his name; and he continued, in a firm but low voice: "When my -daughter, my only child, flung herself into an abyss of infamy by her -disgraceful marriage, I at once and forever renounced her. Now I only -care that the inheritors of my name and property may at least be free -from the taint of inferior race: promise me you will marry a -gentlewoman, a girl of some unblemished family, which, though they are -few, can still be found--promise me this, and I will leave you all I -possess." - -"My dear lord, it is not necessary to promise. Poor as I am, I should -never dream of marrying a plebeian; but I would rather not marry for -some years to come. I am little more than thirty; you must really leave -me a longer spell of liberty." - -"All young men are alike," returned Lord St. George. "You put off the -evil day until you are too old to see your children grow up, or to guide -them, or be anything but a semi-living mummy, fit only to sign checks -for other people to expend. Be ruled by me; accept my conditions, quit -the army, spend the coming season among the best country-houses, pick -out a suitable wife--as my heir, you _can_ choose--go into Parliament, a -Crimean man will be well received by country constituencies, and you -will be well before the world by the time I make way for you. I say -nothing," added the old peer, with an air of courtly humility, "of the -gratitude such a course would enlist from me personally. I have no claim -of that description to urge upon you." - -"Your present intentions constitute a tolerable strong claim," replied -Wilton, smiling. "At any rate I should be very happy to please you, and -I heartily wish you could will away your title as your estates. However, -on the subject of marriage, I can make _no_ promise; at present, the -mere fact of being tied seems to me to outweigh all other advantages. I -hope my bluntness does not offend you. I should be sorry to do so. You -see, there is a strong dash of the Bohemian in my nature, though I am -not without ambition, and I am quite aware that a penniless peer is a -most unfortunate devil. Still I cannot make up my mind to matrimony. -Nevertheless, apart from promises, I do not think any man can be more -averse to the idea of marrying out of his own class than I am." - -There was a moment's pause, Lord St. George looking keenly at his -companion. - -"I do not think you seem likely to commit so egregious an error; but it -is impossible to rely on the prudence or common sense of any man; though -you are certainly past the age when men will sacrifice much for women. -So I must be content with probabilities." - -Another short pause, during which Colonel Wilton took up his hat, which -he had laid on the carpet beside him. - -"Stay," said the old peer. "It is long since I have endured to see any -of my own people, and the effort cost me something. Now you are here, -tell me where are your sisters, your brother?" - -"My brother, poor fellow! he died of fever before he left college. My -sisters are both married, the eldest to General Ogilvie--he is in -command at Montreal--and Gertrude to the Dean of ----." - -"I remember hearing of the first marriage," returned Lord St. George. "I -was then in Greece." - -He continued to ask for various persons, respecting very few of whom -Colonel Wilton could give any information. Meantime the light was -fading, and Lord St. George's visitor growing somewhat impatient. - -"You must forgive me, my lord, if I bid you good-morning. But when I -received your message I had arranged to run down to Scotland to-night -for some grouse-shooting, and I am to dine early with an old -brother-officer before starting." - -"Then I must not detain you," replied Lord St. George, reluctantly. "I -am glad I have seen you. I feel a little more satisfied about the future -of my name and possessions. I wish you could meet my wishes completely. -I am singularly without near relatives--singularly free from claims of -any kind." - -Colonel Wilton had stood up as if in the act to go; he hesitated an -instant, as his kinsman paused, and said, in a lower tone: - -"I presume, then, my cousin--your daughter--left no children?" - -"Do not dare to name her, sir!" cried the old man, fiercely, and -grasping the arms of his chair with nervous, twitching fingers. "She has -long ceased to live for me! She--the first woman in a long, unbroken -line--that ever brought disgrace upon her name! Living or dead, I refuse -all intelligence concerning her. Her children may exist, or not; the -poorest beggar that crawls in the street is more to me!" - -"You have, certainly, a cruel disappointment to complain of, my lord," -said Wilton, gravely and firmly. "But the children would be sinless. You -would not, I am sure, leave them to suffer poverty and--" - -"I would--I would! I would stamp out the spawn of such a viper! -There--there, leave me. I believe you are an honest gentleman; but this -subject you must never touch again. Good-morning, Ralph! Let me see you -on your return from the north." - -Colonel Wilton promised that he would call, and pressing the thin, wan -hand extended to him, left the room. - - -About two hours later, a couple of gentlemen sat at dinner in a private -room in Morley's Hotel. The cheese period had been reached, and the -sharp edge of appetite blunted. One, who seemed the host, was Ralph -Wilton; the guest was a tall, rugged-looking, bony man, with shaggy -eye-brows and a large hooked nose, slightly bent to one side, small, -sharp, dark-gray eyes, grizzled black hair, and a wide mouth, with a -strong projecting under-jaw. This does not sound like the perfection of -manly beauty, yet Major Moncrief was not a bad-looking man. - -"And when do you intend to join me, Moncrief?" said Colonel Wilton. - -"Not later than this day week." - -"I hope not. For I have no fancy for being alone in my glory." - -The conversation flowed somewhat intermittently until the waiter, -placing wine and olives on the table, left the friends alone. - -"Help yourself," said Colonel Wilton, pushing the claret toward Major -Moncrief. "Do you know, I have had an interview with that curious old -hermit, Lord St. George, to-day?" - -"Indeed! How did that come about?" - -"I found a note from him at the club this morning, inviting me, very -politely, to call any day after three. So, as I hope not to see London -again for some months, I went at once." - -"You are his heir, are you not?" - -"To his barren title--yes; but he can will away his wealth as he likes. -Poor old fellow! He had an only child, a lovely girl, I believe, and, -after refusing some of the best matches in England, she ran off with an -artist fellow who played the fiddle, or sang divinely, and the viscount -never forgave her. I only know the general gossip, but I have been told -she died in frightful poverty. I ventured to say a word in favor of the -possible and probable children, and was soon pulled up for my pains. -How idiotic women are, and yet how keen and hard at times! This cousin -of mine was not so very young either; she must have been -four-and-twenty." - -"Women are quite incomprehensible," ejaculated Moncrief. - -Colonel Wilton laughed. - -"Well, old St. George, it seems, sent for me to induce me to marry some -'Clara Vere de Vere,' in order to secure the sacred title and acres from -falling into the hands of a half-breed inheritor. However, though I -would not acknowledge his suzerainty by giving him the promise he -wanted, he may be tolerably sure I would never marry a second-rate -woman. I do not mean to say I care for rank, but good blood is -essential." - -"I do not fancy you are much of a marrying man." - -"No! not at present. I shall come to it some day. I have been too busy -to have had an attack of the love-fever for a long time." - -"You were badly hit in that affair with Lady Mary," observed Moncrief. - -"Well--yes! But I made a rapid recovery. Then, matrimony would be a -different matter. In short, if Lord St. George will just give me a year -or two more of liberty, I dare say I shall be ready to present him with -a bride of the desired pattern. I really have no democratic -proclivities." - -"Ah ha, lad!" said Moncrief, in his unmistakable Scotch tones, "you must -just 'dree your weird.'" - -"So must every one," returned Wilton, rising to fill his cigar-case from -a box that stood upon the sideboard. "But I think I have survived the -spooney period, and have sown my wild oats--not that I have had more -than a mere handful to dispose of. On the whole, I have been a pattern -man--eh, old fellow?" - -"Hum! There have been more extensive crops," returned the major, -doubtfully. "Still, do not be too sure of yourself." - -"Oh, I am safe enough. And, besides," he continued, returning to the -table and filling his glass, "I am very particularly anxious that Lord -St. George should leave me something wherewith to regild the faded -honors of his ancient peerage. I confess to a mortal dread of being a -poor peer. If my old kinsman does not leave me his property, I will -never adopt the title, but be plain 'Ralph Wilton' to the end of the -chapter." - -"You might do worse," said Moncrief, dryly. "As I said before, you must -'dree your weird.'" - -"Halloa!" cried Wilton, suddenly; "half-past seven, by Jove! I shall -have a close shave to catch the train!" He rang the bell, ordered a cab; -hastily donning his overcoat and thrusting his cigar-case into the -breast-pocket, he shook hands heartily with his friend. "Good-by, old -fellow; come as soon as you can, and let the moorland breeze sweep the -cobwebs from your brain. You are too solemn by half for so good a -comrade--good-by!" - -It was a very close shave; but Ralph Wilton was just in time. The bell -had rung before he had taken his ticket, after seeing a favorite pointer -properly disposed of. "Here you are, sir," cried a porter, opening the -door of a carriage. Wilton jumped in, and the door was slammed. "Stop! I -say, porter," he shouted, as he glanced at the only other occupant, -thinking to himself, "An unprotected female! this is too formidable!" -But his voice was drowned in the loud panting of the engine, and they -were off. "It cannot be helped," he thought, and set about arranging -himself as comfortably as he could. - -His companion was a young lady, he perceived, as his eyes became -accustomed to the lamp-light. She was in black, and rather thinly clad -for a night-journey. Her bonnet lay in the netting overhead. And a blue -scarf was loosely tied over her head and ears. She seemed already -asleep, though Wilton was dimly aware that she had opened a pair of -large dark eyes to look at him. She was a serious drawback to the -comfort of his journey. But for her he could make a bed of the -cushions, and stretch himself at full length; but for her he could -solace himself with unlimited cigars, and enjoy the freedom of -loneliness. Thinking thus, he stooped forward to take up an evening -paper he had snatched at the last moment, and his cigar-case fell from -his pocket. His obnoxious fellow-traveller opened her eyes. "If you -smoke," she said, "do not mind me; it may help me to sleep." With a -slight shiver she closed her eyes again, apparently without hearing -Wilton's thanks, while his unspoken maledictions on the ill chance that -placed her in the same carriage were, in some mysterious way, silenced -and arrested by the charm of a soft, sweet voice, delicate yet full, -with a certain sadness in its tones, and an accent not quite English. "A -gentlewoman, I imagine," thought Wilton, as he moved from his place to -the centre seat opposite her to be nearer the light. There was something -touching in the childlike abandonment of her attitude; her head lay back -in the angle of the division she occupied; her face was very pale, and a -dark shade under the eyes bespoke fatigue. Long black lashes fringed her -closed eyes, curling back at the ends, and all of color was concentrated -in her delicately-curved lips. Ralph Wilton could not help glancing from -his paper to her face, and forming conjectures respecting her. Why did -her people let so fair, so young a creature wander about by herself? -But he was by no means old enough to adopt a fatherly view of so pretty -a subject. She must be seventeen or eighteen--here his companion -murmured in her sleep, and sighed deeply; while Wilton, with a sudden -access of chivalrous modesty, reproaching himself for presuming upon her -unconsciousness to scan so closely the tender, childlike face that lay -hushed before him, withdrew to his original position. Here he tried to -read, but the face and figure of the old recluse nobleman flitted -between him and his paper, and the bittersweet of his tone sounded again -in his ears--what depths of disappointment and mortification that old -man must have fathomed! Well, worse endings might have come about than -the union of Lord St. George's title and property in his (Ralph -Wilton's) favor; and, if he ever inherited these good things, he would -certainly look up his erring cousin's children. These meditations were -varied by sundry glances at his companion, vague conjectures concerning -her. How soft and gentle her mouth looked! Yet there was a good deal of -power in the wide, smooth forehead and delicately but clearly marked -dark-brown eyebrows. As Wilton looked he perceived her shiver, without -waking, and make a sleepy effort to fold her shawl closer. The night was -growing colder, and Wilton, observing a small portion of the window next -his companion open, rose to shut it. In moving to accomplish this, he -touched the slumberer's foot. She opened her eyes with a sleepy, -startled look--great, dark, lustrous eyes, which seemed to banish the -childlike expression of her face. - -"I beg your pardon," said Colonel Wilton; "but it is cold, and I thought -you would like the window shut." - -"Oh, yes, thank you; it is very, very cold." She sat up and rubbed her -hands together, tying the blue scarf closer round her head, and -thrusting carelessly under it a heavy tress of very dark-brown hair, -that had become loosened, with utter disregard of appearances, as if -only desirous of rest. "I am so, so weary," she went on, "and I dream -instead of sleeping." - -"That is probably because of your uneasy position," said Wilton. "If you -will allow me to arrange the cushions for you, I think you may rest -better--I am an old traveller." - -"You are very good," she returned, hesitatingly; "how do you mean?" - -"I will show you;" and he proceeded to make supports for one of the -unoccupied cushions with a walking-stick and umbrella so as to form a -couch, and then rolled up his plaid loosely for an _impromptu_ pillow. -"Now," he said, with frank good-nature, "you can rest really; and, if -you will wrap yourself in my cloak, I dare say you will soon forget you -are in a railway-carriage." - -"Thank you very much," she replied. "How good of you to take so much -trouble--and your plaid, too! You have left yourself nothing!" - -"Oh, I do not need anything! Take the cloak, and I wish you good-night." - -He checked an inclination to wrap it round her, lest she might think him -too officious; and, smiling at the change in his own sentiments toward -his fellow-traveller, withdrew to his original position. - -"At least you can smoke," said she, as she placed herself upon the couch -he had improvised. "I really like the perfume of a cigar." - -Thus encouraged, Wilton drew forth his cigar-case and comforted himself -with a weed, while he had the satisfaction of observing the perfect -stillness of the rather shapeless mass of drapery made by his heavy -cloak round the slender form slumbering beneath it. So they sped on into -the night. Wilton's cigar was finished; he threw the end from the -window. Gazing a moment at the dim, uncanny trees and hedges as they -flew past with ghastly rapidity, and settling himself in his corner, he -too tried to sleep for a long time in vain. The past--the possible -future--the absolute present--his sudden interest in his companion, -crowded and jostled each other in his thoughts, but gradually all became -indistinct, and at last he slept. - -Uneasily, though--visions of struggles--of men and horses dying--of a -desperate necessity to carry an order from the general to a remote -division, and the utter impossibility of getting his horse to -move--dreams like these distracted him; at last a heavy battery on his -left opened fire, and he woke. - -Woke suddenly, completely, with a feeling that the end of everything was -at hand. A noise of tearing and crashing filled his ears, mingled with -shrieks and yells; the carriage heaved violently, first to one side, and -then to the other, in which position it remained. - -As Wilton sprang to his feet, his fellow-traveller started quickly to -hers; and, grasping his arm, exclaimed, with a certain despairing calm -that struck him even in such a moment: "Is it--is it death?" - -He did not reply; but, holding on by the bar which supports the netting -over the seats, he managed to open the door next him. It was on the -upheaved side, and he found a heap of clay jammed under the step of the -carriage. - -"Come," he exclaimed, "give me your hand!--lean on my shoulder--there is -an open space beyond here." - -His fellow-traveller obeyed, silently and steadily. Instinctively -Wilton groped his way across what seemed a truck laden with earth and -stones, and assisted his companion down the opposite side on to the -grass-grown border of the line, which was open, and only fenced by a low -bank and hedge. Placing her in safety, he turned to look at the scene of -fear and confusion. A few yards ahead lay the massive fragments of the -two engines heaped together, the foremost carriage smashed to pieces and -already blazing, having caught light from the guard's lamp, which had -been overturned. Two other carriages, more or less injured, were, like -the one he had just quitted, forced upon trucks laden with stone and -clay. The passengers were scrambling over them, the women screaming, the -men shouting directions and questions. - -"If you will stay here, I will go and see if I can be of any use," -exclaimed Wilton. "You are quite safe, and I will return as soon as I -can." - -She murmured something in reply as he went forward. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -Wilton found an indescribable scene of confusion when he came up to the -overturned engine. The male passengers and some twenty navvies, who had -been with the ballast train, were trying frantically to separate the -burning carriages from the others by forcing them back; but, although -the coupling irons were broken, the foremost carriages had been so -violently dashed against the trucks that they had become too closely -entangled to be stirred, and it seemed highly probable that the whole -train would be consumed before any means could be devised for -extinguishing the flames. Wilton's quick eye took in the difficulty in a -moment, and noticed that the blazing van, having been the first to -encounter the shock, had fallen on the side away from the ballast train, -breaking the couplings and everything breakable as it crashed over. The -next carriage had been forced upon the second truck, and the others more -or less upon those nearest them, as they were farther from the actual -collision. The unhappy guard had been dragged senseless from the -_débris_; there was, therefore, no one to direct the willing but -fruitless efforts of the volunteers. Seeing this, Wilton sprang upon the -truck nearest him, and shouted, in clear, ringing tones: - -"Hold, men! you will never move that wreck! Your only chance to put out -the flames is to smother it with the damp clay here. Get your shovels -and picks--some of you jump up with the picks and loosen the stuff; -another party be ready with the shovels to pile the clay over the fire." - -At the first sound of authoritative direction the men sprang to obey, -and Wilton took as supreme command as if a party of his own pioneers -were at his orders. The men worked with a will, as men generally do when -intelligently and energetically commanded. It was a wild and not -unpicturesque scene. At first the flames from the dry varnished wood -streamed out upon the breeze, which, fortunately, was not high, though -it sometimes sent wreaths of smoke and fire against the men who were -toiling to extinguish it, and bringing out in strong relief the figure -of Wilton, who had climbed upon the side of the carriage nearest the -burning fragments, and, holding on with one hand, urged the working -party with quick, commanding gestures. By the time the truck had been -half emptied the fire was evidently arrested. Every now and then a jet -of flame shot up to the sky; a few more minutes of fierce exertion and -the enemy was got under, and Wilton descended from his post of -observation to find a new authority on the scene, who was bustling about -very actively. This was the master of a small station about half a mile -farther up the line, scarcely to be seen from the fast and express -trains, which never stopped there, but elevated by the present -catastrophe into importance and authority. By his directions the guard -and stoker, who were most injured, were removed to a small town at a -little distance, where medical aid could be procured. Having discovered -and liberated his yelping dog, Wilton sought what information he could -from this official. - -"No, sir; there ain't much damage done. The stoker of the ballast train -is hurt a good deal; but the guard is more stunned than hurt. No lives -lost, thank God--only some bruises and a broken head. You see, it's -getting late for night-travelling, and there wasn't a soul in the first -carriage. How did it happen? You see, the ballast train was shunted here -to wait till yours was past; but those pointsmen are overworked, and -this here forgot to set back the points; so you see, right into the -other engine," etc., etc. - -After mixing with the other passengers, and ascertaining what they -intended to do, or if he could be of any use to them, Wilton bethought -him of his lonely little travelling companion, and returned to seek -her. She had advanced nearer the scene of action, and climbed up the low -bank which here bordered the line, the better to see what was going on. - -"I am afraid you must think I was not coming back," said Wilton, -offering his hand to help her down. - -"I saw you were well occupied," she said, touching it lightly as she -descended. - -"By Jove! you are shivering with cold--and no wonder, without a cloak or -plaid! Wait for a moment and I will bring you mine from our carriage." - -"Would you also be so kind as to bring my bonnet and a small travelling -bag? I should have gone for them myself, only I could hardly stand." - -But Wilton was gone, and returned quickly. "There are but three other -ladies," he said, assisting to wrap his plaid around her, "and they are -going up to a small town or village about two miles off, to rest at the -inn; and when they are refreshed, intend posting on to their -destination, which is somewhere in this district. Would you like to go -with them, or wait at a little station close to this, where a fresh -train will be sent as soon as they can clear the line?" - -"Oh, I will go to the station. I am anxious to get on as soon as -possible." - -"And so am I. I shall, therefore, remain there also, and shall be most -happy to be of any use to you." - -"Thank you. Can I walk to this station at once?" - -"Certainly, if you will take my arm." - -"I feel I must to steady myself," she replied. "I did not know I was so -much frightened and shaken. I feel ashamed." - -They walked on in silence for a few yards, and then Wilton asked if she -was going much farther. - -"Yes," with a sigh, "a long way--over the Border to a place called -Monkscleugh." - -"Indeed!" cried Wilton; "that is my destination also." - -She made no reply, and they accomplished the short distance in silence, -save for a few friendly remarks and inquiries from Wilton. The station -was almost deserted when they reached it; but the gaslight and a good -fire were very welcome; and the station-master soon returned with the -intelligence that they had collected more men, who were working hard to -clear the line, and, that, as soon as it was passable, a fresh train -would be sent on from A----. - -The station-master was a short man--broad without being stout--with a -peculiarly weather-beaten aspect, his mouth screwed to one side, and one -eye squeezed down to the other, as if in the habit of facing the sun's -glare without adequate shelter. He spoke, too, in a _staccato_ style, as -if some intermittent power pumped up his words. - -"I dare say this lady would be glad of a cup of tea or something," said -Wilton, looking compassionately at the figure of his companion, who had -drawn a chair to the fire, and sat down wearily, putting a small, -well-booted foot upon the fender. - -"I have sent up to the village for refreshments, sir; but I am sorry to -say I have nothing in the place. I generally go away for my meals." - -So saying, the station-master hurried off. - -"I do not feel to want anything but sleep," said the lady. "I have not -had any for many nights, and I am scarce awake now. If I could but close -my eyes, and rest." - -She raised them as she spoke to Wilton--such large, black-blue eyes, so -heavy with fatigue, that his compassion for her evident exhaustion was -naturally increased by the admiration they excited. - -"You really ought to take something, if we could get it," he said. "Such -a shock must have been too much for you, though you showed remarkable -pluck." - -"Yet I was dreadfully frightened," she replied, clasping her hands over -one knee, and gazing dreamily into the fire. "I do not fear death so -much as being hurt and helpless." - -"Well," said Wilton, cheerfully, "we must find a resting-place for you. -There ought to be a lady's waiting-room even here." He rose and looked -about as he spoke. "And so there is"--he opened a door on the right of -the fireplace--"a very desolate-looking chamber. Still there is an -uneasy-looking stuffed bench, and perhaps, with my cloak and plaid, you -might manage to get an hour's sleep while we are waiting." - -"How good of you to think of all this!" she exclaimed, looking at him -more attentively than she had yet done. "But it is dark--and see! the -lock is broken. I do not think I should like to sleep with an open -door." - -"Let me light the gas," said Wilton, turning the stiff tap and striking -one of his fusees. "Now the only objection is the broken lock. I will -mount guard outside, and, trust me, no one shall intrude upon you. What -do you say?" - -"Many, many thanks. I will gladly lie down and try to sleep. Are _you_ -not weary?" - -"Not in the least. I would advise your trying to compose yourself at -once; the others will be here soon, and will probably talk and make a -row. By-the-way," interrupting himself, "would you like to telegraph to -your friends that you are all right? I am going to do so myself." - -"Telegraph to my friends!" she replied, stopping and looking full at -him, her large, dark, dewy eyes lighting up as a half-sad, half scornful -smile dimpled her cheek. "It is not at all necessary; they will not -distress themselves." - -She bent her head as Wilton held the door for her to pass through. -Closing it after her, he returned to his seat by the fire, wondering at -himself; for, though far too manly a man to adopt a tone of selfish -indifference toward others, though he would have shown kindly -consideration to a plain or an elderly woman in such circumstances, he -was conscious of an extraordinary degree of interest and admiration for -his quiet, undemonstrative fellow-traveller. She was so gentle, yet so -indifferent; so simple and so self-possessed; evidently grateful to him -for his attentions, and yet utterly regardless of him as a "good-looking -fellow," or as anything save a civil travelling-companion. There was -something marvellously attractive in the almost infantine sweetness of -her mouth and delicate chin, and the contrast of her earnest, expressive -eyes. - -"Who can she be?" asked Wilton of himself; "though quite unconventional, -there is a high tone about her, poor little thing! It is as well she -fell in with such a steady fellow as myself. I must see her safe to the -end of her journey, and find out all about her before we part." - -His reflections were interrupted by an influx of some of the passengers, -who now began to collect, having impeded the efforts of the railway -officials as much as possible by their attempts to afford assistance; -they were all exceedingly talkative and hungry, not to say hilarious, -from the reaction of their escape. The refreshments which had been sent -for had now arrived, and the little station looked quite crowded. In the -midst of the buzz of voices, while all except Wilton were gathered round -the table discussing the viands placed thereon, he observed the door of -the ladies' room open gently and his _protégé_ appear, his cloak over -one shoulder, and trailing behind. Wilton immediately went toward her. - -"I cannot sleep," she said; "I dozed a little just at first, but now I -am quite awake and restless." - -"That's bad," returned Wilton. "Will you come in here and sit by the -fire?" - -"Oh no!" shrinking back, "not among all those people." - -"Well, it would not be very pleasant; but shall you not be very cold?" - -"Not if you will still allow me to have your cloak." - -"Certainly; and I hope we shall not be kept much longer. Could we not -get you a fire here?" and he walked in unceremoniously. - -"I do not think even you could manage that," she returned, with a quiet -smile, as she placed herself at a table under the gaslight, and opened a -large note-book, as if about to make some entries. - -"Not a strong-minded female taking notes, I hope," thought Wilton. "She -is far too pretty for that." - -"No," said he, aloud, as he observed there was no fireplace. "With all -the will imaginable, I cannot manage a fire; but can I do nothing more? -I must insist on your taking some wine or tea. They are all devouring -out there; and I have had some very tolerable brandy-and-water myself," -and Wilton beckoned a waiter to bring some refreshment. - -"I tell you what you could do for me," said the young lady, suddenly -looking up more brightly than she had yet done; "make the station-master -come in here and talk--ask him questions. Oh, you know what I mean!" she -went on, with a sort of graceful petulance as Wilton looked at her in no -small surprise, "anything to make him talk. There, I think I hear him in -the next room; please to watch for him and bring him here. I will begin, -you can follow me; when I say 'thank you,' send him away--there, please -to catch him." - -Wilton, greatly wondering that the first signs of animation in his -interesting companion should be aroused by so rugged and commonplace a -subject, hastened to obey, and soon returned with the functionary. - -"Oh!" said the lady, bending her head with such a proud yet gracious -air that the man involuntarily removed his hat. "Pray tell me, is there -really no serious injury? I should be more satisfied were I assured by -you." - -"Well, mum, I am happy to say there is no one much hurt to speak of," -etc., etc. - -"Is it long since you have had an accident before?" asked Wilton, not -very well knowing how to proceed in compliance with a little private -imperative nod from the fair inquisitor. - -The question was opportune, for it launched the station-master upon -quite a flood of memories into which he rushed and talked for good ten -minutes without intermission. How long he would have continued it is -impossible to say, but one of the porters came to call him, as there was -a telegraph from ----. - -Wilton followed to hear the news, and returned, after a short absence, -with the intelligence that the expected train would not arrive for -another hour. - -"That is long," replied the young lady, scarce lifting her head; then, -as Wilton, a little mortified by her tone, turned to leave the room, she -exclaimed, still looking down, "Stay one moment, if not inconvenient." - -"Certainly," and Wilton stood still for another minute or two. - -"There," she said, holding out the book, "is that like him?" - -Wilton took it and uttered an exclamation of surprise. On the page -before him was a bold, rapid, admirable sketch of the station-master; -all the characteristic lines and puckers were there, but slightly -idealized. - -"This is first-rate! You are quite an artist." - -"I wish I was! Let me touch it a little more. What a capital face it -is--so rugged, so humorous--yet so English; not the least bit -picturesque. I shall work this into something some day." - -"Then I am right in supposing you an artist? May I look again?" said -Wilton, sitting down beside her. - -"Oh, yes; you may look at my scratchings. This is my note-book. I like -to draw everything--but, you see, most imperfectly." - -"I do not, indeed. I know very little of art, though I can sketch -roughly--merely professional work--but you seem to me to have both -genius and skill." - -"Some taste, scarce any skill." - -There was something quite genuine in her tone--not the least tinge of -mock-modesty--as she turned over the pages, and touched them here and -there, while her manner was singularly devoid of coquetry. Wilton might -have been her grandfather for all of embarrassment or excitement his -attentions caused. - -"And you can draw; perhaps you know these trees; they are not far from -Monkscleugh." - -She showed him a group of beeches most delicately yet clearly drawn. - -"I do not know the neighborhood. I am going there for the first time. -May I ask if you reside there?" - -"Yes, at present. Oh, you will find a great deal to sketch all -about--especially by the river--and there is beauty, too, in the gray -skies and rich brown moors; but how unlike the beauty of the sunny -south!" - -"It is not necessary to ask which you like; your voice tells that," said -Wilton. - -"And are you not fond of drawing?" she resumed, as if the subject had an -irresistible attraction. - -"You would not look at such school-boy productions as mine," returned -Wilton, smiling. "As I said before, they are mere rough professional -drawings." - -"Professional! What is your profession?" - -This rather leading question was put with the most straightforward -simplicity. - -"I am a soldier." - -"A soldier!"--looking very earnestly at him--"what a pity!" - -"Why?" asked Wilton, surprised, and a little nettled. "Soldiers are -necessary evils." - -"But what evils! what symbols of deeper evils than themselves! I do not -mean to say," interrupting herself with a sudden consciousness that her -words were rude, while a delicate tinge of color came and went in her -cheek, "that _you_ are bad or wicked; but it is so sad to think that -such things, or people rather, should be necessary still." - -"No doubt it would be better for the world to be in an Arcadian or -paradisiacal condition; but, as it is, I am afraid it will be a long -time before we can dispense with fighting or fighting-men. However, you -are right--war is a horrible thing, and I hope we shall have no more for -a long time." - -"Alas! how dare we hope that, so long as it is in the power of three or -four men to plunge three or four nations into such horrors?" - -"Ah, I see I have encountered a dangerous democrat," said Wilton, -laughing; and, vaguely pleased to see her drawn out of her cool -composure, he watched the varying color in her cheek while she was -turning over the leaves of her sketch-book, seeming to seek for -something. "Pardon me," said Wilton, after waiting for a reply, and -determined to speak again, "but I imagine you are not English." - -"I scarcely know--yes, I believe I am." She spoke in her former quiet -tone again. - -"In England all young ladies are conservative, at least all I have ever -known," continued Wilton. - -"Conservative!--I have read that word often in the journals. Is it -legitimacy, Church and state, and all that?" - -"Exactly." - -"Well, the young ladies I know--and they are but few--are very charming, -very accomplished; but they know nothing, absolutely nothing. Is it not -strange?" - -There was not the slightest approach to cynicism in her tone, but she -looked at Wilton as if fully expecting him to share her wonder. - -"Is this the character of the young ladies of the unknown land into -which I am about to plunge? I fancied Scotchwomen were educated within -an inch of their lives." - -"I know English girls best. Some are very learned; have been taught -quantities; they can tell the very year when printing was tried, and -when Queen Elizabeth first wore silk stockings, and when every great -pope was born; and they read French and German; and oh, I cannot tell -all they can do and say. And yet--yet, they know nothing--they care for -nothing--they lead such strange lives." - -"I suppose the lives of all girls are much alike," observed Wilton, more -and more curious to find out some leading acts concerning his rather -original companion. "But, as we are both bound for the same place, -perhaps I may have some opportunity of communicating my observations on -the intellectual status of the Monkscleugh young ladies?" - -"There is very little probability of such an event," said she, with an -amused smile. - -"Then you do not reside at Monkscleugh?" - -"Within three miles of it." - -"I am going down to a shooting-lodge called Glenraven," hoping she would -respond by naming her own abode. - -"Indeed! I know it; there are some lovely bits about there." - -"We shall be neighbors, then?" - -"Yes, in a certain sense. Here," she continued, turning over a fresh -page of her book, "this is the outline of a very lovely brae and burn -close to your abode." - -It was only a bit of broken bank; a stream, dotted with stones, lay -below, with some mountain ash trees spreading their feathery foliage -against the sky; but there were wonderful grace and beauty in the -sketch. "This gives you a very faint idea of the reality," she resumed, -in a low, soft tone, as if inwardly contemplating it. "The water is -clear brown; it foams and chafes round these large black stones, and all -sorts of delicious mosses and leaves lurk below the edge; and then ferns -wave about the rocks on the brae, and there are gleams of purple heather -and tufts of green, green grass, and behind here a great, wild, free -hill-side. Oh, it is so quiet and dreamy there--delicious!" - -"And this delightful brae is near the lodge?" said Wilton, when she -paused, after listening an instant in hopes she would speak on, there -was such caressing sweetness in her voice. - -"No, not very near; almost a mile away, I think." She evidently knew the -place well. - -"I hope you will continue to transfer the beauties of Glenraven after I -become a dweller there." - -"Oh, yes; whenever I have time; to draw is my greatest pleasure." - -With all her frankness, he was not an inch nearer the discovery of her -actual abode. - -"I suppose you do not live far from the scene of your sketch?" - -"Not far: Brosedale is quite a mile and a half on this side," touching -the page with her pencil; "and the pathway to Monkscleugh goes over the -brae." - -"Indeed! I imagine I have heard the name of Brosedale before." - -"Very likely; it is, I believe, the largest gentleman's seat in the -neighborhood." - -"Yes, yes; I remember now: it belongs to Sir Peter Fergusson." - -"Exactly." - -"She cannot be his daughter," thought Wilton; "I suppose she must be -the governess.--I understand he is quite the grand seigneur of -Monkscleugh," he said aloud. - -"Well, I suppose so. He is a good little man--at least, whenever I see -him he is very kind." After some further, but intermittent conversation, -there was a sort of movement in the next room, and Wilton's companion -begged him to go and see what was the matter. - -The matter was the arrival of the promised engine and train; so Wilton's -conversation and inquiries were put an end to for the present. - -To his infinite disgust, when they resumed their places, a fat elderly -man, a commercial traveller from Glasgow, intruded upon their -_tête-à-tête_, and absorbed all the talk to himself. He was great in -railway experiences, accidents included, and addressed a steady, -unceasing flow of talk to Wilton, who burned to eject him summarily from -the window. - -The young lady had sunk to sleep at last, carefully wrapped in Wilton's -cloak, and the bagman, having exhausted either his powers or his -subject, composed himself to slumber. But Wilton could not rest for a -long time, and he seemed hardly to have lost consciousness before they -stopped at Carlisle. Here the commercial traveller alighted, and -Wilton's puzzling companion woke up. - -"We shall be at Monkscleugh in three-quarters of an hour," said Wilton; -"can I be of any further use to you if your friends are not there to -meet you, as may be the case?" - -"There will be no friends to meet me," she replied; "but I need trouble -you no more: I go to the house of one of the Brosedale employés, who -will send me on." - -"After a hair-breadth 'scape, such as ours," said Wilton, amused at his -own unwonted bashfulness and difficulty in putting the question, "may I -ask the name of my comrade in danger?" - -"My name?" with some surprise. "Oh, Ella--Ella Rivers." - -"And mine; do you not care to inquire?" said Wilton, bending forward to -look into her eyes. - -"Yes," she said, slowly, with a slight sigh; "what is your name?" - -"Wilton." - -"Have you no other?--there is always more character in a Christian -name." - -"Mine is Ralph." - -"Ralph--Ralph--I do not seem to understand it. Are you noble?" - -"No; simply Colonel Wilton." - -"Ah! a colonel is higher than a captain, and lower than a general?" - -"Just so." - -She relapsed into silence, scarcely responding to Wilton's endeavor to -make her talk and turn her eyes upon him. He was surprised to find -himself counting the minutes that remained before he should be compelled -to lose sight of his curiously fascinating companion. The parting moment -came all too quickly, and Wilton was obliged to say "Good-by." - -"I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you again," he said, politely. - -"There is nothing so unlikely," she returned, with a slight blush; -"but," holding out her hand, "your kindness will always be a pleasant -recollection." - -She bowed and turned away so decidedly that Wilton felt he must not -follow. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -Major Moncrief was as good as his word, and joined his friend before the -stipulated ten days had expired. Nor had time hung heavily on Wilton's -hands. He was up early, and turned out every day to tramp through the -heather, or among the wooded valleys of the picturesque country -surrounding the lodge. He was an active pedestrian and a good shot; -moreover, he went thoroughly into the pursuit or amusement that engaged -him. The game-keeper pronounced him a real sportsman, but thought it -rather odd that, whatever line of country they had beaten, or were going -to beat, Colonel Wilton generally contrived to pass across the brae, or -the path leading from Brosedale to Monkscleugh. The evening was -generally spent in arranging and correcting his Crimean and Indian -diaries, so, with the help of a couple of horses, which arrived under -the care of his soldier servant, he had no lack of amusement and -occupation. Nevertheless, he welcomed Moncrief very warmly. - -"You are a first-rate fellow for joining me so soon. It certainly is -not good for man to live alone. These are capital quarters--lots of -game, beautiful country, hospitable neighbors. Look here! I found these -when I came in yesterday." - -So spoke Wilton, handing a card and a note to his friend as they drew -near the fire after dinner. - -"Hum!--ah!--Sir Peter, or rather Lady Fergusson has lost no time," -returned the major, laying down the card, which was inscribed "Sir Peter -J. Fergusson, Brosedale," and, opening the note, which bore a crest and -monogram in lilac and gold, "her ladyship is anxious we should partake -of the hospitality of Brosedale on Thursday next, '_sans cérémonie_.' I -am to bring my friend Colonel Wilton." - -"Who are these people?" asked Wilton, as he peeled a walnut. - -"Oh, Sir Peter is a man who made a big fortune in China; a very decent -little fellow. He married an Honorable widow with a string of daughters, -who manages a happy amalgamation of her old and her new loves by styling -herself the Honorable Lady Fergusson. Sir Peter bought a large estate -here for a song when the Grits of Brosedale smashed up. I met the -baronet in London at General Maclellan's, and my lady was monstrously -civil; hoped to see me when I was in their neighborhood, and all that; -but, of course, Wilton, you will not go? We did not come down here for -polite society--it would be a bore." - -Wilton did not answer immediately. "I do not know," he said, at last. -"It would not do to give such near neighbors the cold shoulder. We might -be glad of them if we tire of each other. Suppose we go this time, and -see what sort of neighbors we have?" - -Moncrief looked at his friend with some surprise. "As you like," he -said. "I should have thought it anything but a temptation to you." - -"My dear fellow, the weather and the sport and the scenery have made me -so confoundedly amiable that I am indisposed to say 'No' to any one." - -"Very well, I will write and accept; but if you think I am going to dine -with every resident who chooses to enliven his dulness by entertaining -two such choice spirits as ourselves, you are very much mistaken, my -lad. I suppose you are anxious to prosecute your search for a wife, in -obedience to that crotchety old peer." - -"Not I," returned Wilton, laughing; "and, if I were, I do not think it -very likely I should find the desired article among the Honorable Lady -Fergusson's daughters." - -"I believe Fergusson was married before," said the major, "in his -earlier, humbler days, when he little thought he would reign in the -stead of old Jammie Grits at Brosedale." Whereupon the major branched -off into some local anecdotes, which he told with much dry humor. Wilton -listened and laughed, but did not forget to put him in mind of the -necessary reply to Lady Fergusson's invitation. - -The major was by no means well pleased at being obliged to dress after a -severe day's work, for which he was not as yet in training; moreover, he -was full fifteen years older than his friend, and at no period of his -life possessed the fire, the eager energy which Wilton carried with him -into every pursuit, even into every whim. So he grumbled through the -purgatorial operation, and marvelled gloomily at Wilton's unusual -readiness to rush into the inanities of a country dinner. - -As to Wilton, he felt quite angry with himself for the curious elation -with which he mounted the dog-cart that was to convey them to Brosedale. -He did not think there was so much boyish folly left in him; but, occupy -himself as he might, he could not banish the haunting eyes of Ella -Rivers. He could not forget the unconscious dignity of her question, "Is -it death?" The full knowledge of danger, and yet no wild terror! There -was a fascination about that insignificant stranger which, absurd and -unreasonable though it was, he could not shake off. This effect was -heightened by the peculiar, sad indifference of her manner. It was odd -that he had never met her in any of his varied and extensive -excursions. The weather had been beautiful, too--most favorable for -sketching, but she had never appeared. If he could see her again, and -disperse the species of mystery which formed part of her charm, by -ascertaining who and what she was, he felt as if he could better break -the spell. But all this was more vaguely felt than actually thought and -acknowledged. Wilton would have laughed at any one who told him that his -thoughts were all more or less pervaded by the quiet little girl who had -shown such an unusual dislike to soldiers. - -The friends reached Brosedale just as Sir Peter hoped they would not be -late. The house--which was an old one, so largely added to, altered, and -improved, that scarcely any of the original could be traced--was very -like all rich men's houses where the women have no distinctive -taste--handsome, ornate, and commonplace. Lady Fergusson was a fine, -well-preserved woman, richly dressed in silk and lace. She received -Major Moncrief and his friend with much cordiality, and presented them -to her daughters, Miss Helen and Miss Gertrude Saville, and also to a -nephew and niece who were staying in the house. - -"My eldest daughter, who was with me when we had the pleasure of meeting -you in town, is staying with her aunt, Lady Ashleigh, in Wiltshire," -said the hostess to Moncrief. "She is quite enthusiastic about -archæology, and Ashleigh is in itself a treasure of antiquity." - -Miss Helen Saville was a grand, tall brunette, with rich red lips and -cheeks, luxuriant if somewhat coarse black hair, and large, round black -eyes, that looked every one and everything full in the face. Her sister -was smaller, less dark, and in every way a faint copy of the great -original. The niece was a plain girl, with good points, dressed -effectively; and the nephew a young lieutenant in some hussar regiment, -who considered himself bound to fraternize with Wilton. The latter was -told off to take in Miss Saville by Sir Peter, a small man, whose -close-clipped white whiskers looked like mutton-chop patterns thickly -floured. He had a quiet, not to say depressed air, and a generally -dry-salted aspect, which made Wilton wonder, as he stood talking with -him before the fire, at the stuff out of which the conquerors of fortune -are sometimes made. - -"What a beautiful country this is!" said Wilton to his neighbor, as his -soup-plate was removed, and Ganymede, in well-fitting broadcloth, filled -his glass. - -"Strangers admire it, but it is by no means a good neighborhood." - -"Indeed! I suppose, then, you are driven in upon your own resources." - -"Such as they are," with a smile displaying white but not regular -teeth. - -"No doubt they are numerous. Let me see; what are a young lady's -resources--crochet, croquet, and curates, healing the sick and feeding -the hungry?" - -"Oh, I do none of those things. The crochet, croquet, and curates, are -my sister's amusements, and I dislike both the sick and the hungry, -although I have no objection to subscribe for them." - -"Ah! you are terribly destitute; and you do not ride, or I should have -met you." - -"Yes, I am very fond of riding; but we have scarcely returned a week, -and I have had a bad cold." - -"Perhaps you draw?" asked Wilton, approaching his object from afar. - -"No; I have always preferred music. None of us care for drawing, except -my youngest sister." - -"Indeed!" (looking across the table), "that is a pleasant variety from -the crochet, croquet, and curates." - -"No; not Gertrude--I mean Isabel. She is still in the school-room." - -"Ah! And I suppose sketches with her governess?" - -"Yes." - -"As I imagined," thought Wilton, "my pretty companion is the governess. -Perhaps she will be in the drawing-room when we go there. If so, I must -lay the train for some future meeting." - -"Pray, Colonel Wilton, are you any relation to a Mr. St. George Wilton -we met at Baden last summer? He was, or is, _attaché_ somewhere." - -"He has the honor of being my first cousin once removed, or my third -cousin twice removed--some relation, at all events. I am not at all well -up in the ramifications of the family." - -"Well, he is a very agreeable person, I assure you, quite a favorite -with every one, and speaks all sorts of languages. There was a Russian -princess at Baden, quite wild about him." - -"Is it possible? These fair barbarians are impressionable, however. I -have met the man you mention years ago. We were at that happy period -when one can relieve the overburdened heart by a stand-up fight, and I -have a delightful recollection of thrashing him." - -Miss Saville laughed, and then said, "I hope you will be better friends -when you meet again. I believe he is coming here next week." - -"Oh, I promise to keep the peace--unless, indeed, I see him greatly -preferred before me," returned Wilton, with a rather audacious look, -which by no means displeased Miss Saville, who was of the order of young -ladies that prefer a bold wooer. - -While the talk flowed glibly at Sir Peter's end of the table, Lady -Fergusson was delicately cross-examining Moncrief as to the social -standing of his friend. - -"Try a little melon, Major Moncrief. Pray help yourself. That port is, I -believe, something remarkable. And you were saying Colonel Wilton is -related to that curious old Lord St. George. We met a cousin of his--his -heir, in fact--abroad last year, a very charming young man." - -"Not his heir, Lady Fergusson, for my friend Ralph is the heir. I am -quite sure of that." - -"Indeed!" returned Lady Fergusson, blandly. "I dare say you are right;" -and her countenance assumed a softer expression while she continued to -bestow most flattering attentions upon the rather obtuse major. - -The after-dinner separation seemed very long to Wilton, although he was -a good deal interested by his host's observations upon Eastern matters; -for Sir Peter was a shrewd, intelligent man; but at last they joined the -ladies, and found their numbers augmented by a little girl of twelve or -thirteen, and a rigid lady in gray silk, who was playing a duet with -Miss Gertrude Saville. Wilton betook himself, coffee-cup in hand, to -Miss Saville, who was turning over a book of photographs in a -conspicuously-disengaged position. - -"I have had quite an interesting disquisition with your father on the -East and China. He evidently knows his subject." - -"Sir Peter is not my father," said the young lady, with a tinge of -haughtiness. - -"True. I forgot," apologetically. "Ah! that is your little -artist-sister. I am very fond of children." - -"Are you? I am sure I am not, little tiresome, useless animals." - -"Human nature in the raw, eh!" - -"Yes; I prefer it dressed. Still, to quote an inelegant proverb, 'Too -much cookery spoils the broth!' But some is quite essential. Here, -Isabel, take my cup." The little girl approached and offered to take -Wilton's. - -"No, not at any age could I permit such a thing," said he, laughing. -"And so you are the artist in the house of Saville! Are you very fond of -drawing?" - -"I used not to be until--" she began to reply, when her sister -interrupted her. - -"Look, Isabel, Miss Walker wants you. Miss Walker (Hooky Walker, as my -Cousin Jim calls her, because she has a hooked nose) is the governess. I -think poor Isabel is a little afraid of her. She is awfully clever, and -very slow." - -Wilton looked at her in deep disappointment; the mystery was growing -more difficult. Perhaps after all, Ella Rivers did _not_ live at -Brosedale! Now he recalled all she had said, he found she had not -positively asserted that she lived there, or anywhere. Could it be -possible that she had slipped from his grasp--that he would never see -her again--was she only the wraith of a charming, puzzling girl? Pooh! -what was it to him? His business was to enjoy three or four months' -sport and relaxation. He was so far fortunate. His chum, Moncrief, had -pitched on excellent shooting quarters for their joint occupation. His -campaign had proved a very remedial measure, for he was quite clear of -his debts, and the good intentions of Lord St. George formed a pleasing -if uncertain perspective. So Wilton reflected, while Miss Helen Saville -performed a _tarantella_ of marvellous difficulty, where accidentals, -abstruse harmonious discords, and double shakes, appalled the listening -ear. When it was finished, the audience were properly complimentary, -which homage the fair performer disregarded with a cool and lofty -indifference highly creditable to her training in the school of modern -young-ladyism. - -"What an amount of study must be required to attain such skill!" said -Wilton, as she returned to her seat near him. "Is it indiscreet to ask -how many hours a day it took to produce all that?" - -"Oh, not so very many. When I was in the school-room, I practised four -or five; now much less keeps me in practice. Are you fond of music, -Colonel Wilton?" - -"Yes, I am extremely fond of it, in an ignorant way. I like old ballads, -and soft airs, and marches, and all that low style of music suited to -outside barbarians like myself." And Wilton, instinctively conscious -that the brilliant Miss Saville admired him, bestowed a mischievous -glance upon her as he spoke, not sorry, perhaps, to act upon the -well-known principle of counter-irritation, to cure himself of the -absurd impression made upon him by his chance encounter. - -"I understand," returned Miss Saville, a little piqued, as he had -intended she should be. "You look upon such compositions as I have just -played as a horrid nuisance." - -"Like a certain very bad spirit, I tremble and adore," said Wilton, -laughing. "I have no doubt however, that you could charm my savage -breast, or rouse my martial fire, with 'Auld Robin Gray' or 'Scots wha -hae wi' Wallace bled.'" - -"No, I cannot," replied Miss Saville, haughtily. "Gertrude sings a -little, and, I believe, can give you 'Auld Robin Gray,' if you ask her." - -"I shall try, at all events," said Wilton, amused at the slight -annoyance of her tone, and rising to execute his purpose, when Helen, -to his surprise, forestalled him by calling her sister to her very -amiably, "Gertrude, will you sing for Colonel Wilton? I will play your -accompaniment." So the desired ballad was sung, very correctly and quite -in tune, but as if performed by some vocal instrument utterly devoid of -human feeling. - -There was more music, and a good deal of talk about hunting -arrangements; but Wilton was extremely pleased to be once more in the -dog-cart, cigar in mouth, facing the fresh, brisk breeze, on their -homeward way. The major, on the contrary, was in a far more happy frame -of mind than at starting. He preferred hunting to shooting, and was -highly pleased at the prospect of two days' hunting a week. - -"You are right, Moncrief," said Wilton, as they bowled away over the -smooth, hard road; "these country dinners and family parties ought to be -devoutly avoided by all sensible men." - -"I do not know," returned the mentor. "I think they are a very tolerable -lot; and I fancy you found amusement enough with that slashing fine -girl--you took very little notice of any one else, by Jove! I sometimes -think I hate the lassies, they are such kittle cattle. Now, a woman -that's 'wooed and married and a'' is safe, and may be just as pleasant." - -"I acknowledge the fact, but I object to the morality," returned -Wilton, laughing. - -"You do? I was not aware of your regeneration." - -"Hallo!" cried Wilton. "There's some one in front there, just under the -shadow of that beech-tree." - -"Yes, I thought I saw something. It's a child or a girl." - -Wilton, who was driving, did not answer, though he drew up suddenly, and -made a movement as if to throw aside the plaid that wrapped his knees -and spring down. - -"What are you about? are you daft, man?" - -"Nothing, nothing. I fancied--here, Byrne, look at this trace; it is -loose." - -"Sure it's all right, sir." - -"Is it? Never mind." And Wilton, after casting an eager look up a -pathway which led from the beech-tree into the grounds of Brosedale, -gathered up the reins and drove rapidly home. - - -It was about a week after the Brosedale dinner that Wilton had sallied -forth, intending to ride over to Monkscleugh. He had nearly resigned the -idea of ever encountering his fair fellow-traveller again, though he -could not shake off the conviction that the slight dim figure which had -flitted from out the shade of the beech-tree, across the moonlight, and -into the gloom of the Brosedale plantations, was that of Miss Rivers. -Still, it was most strange that she should be there at such an -hour--half-past ten at least--rather too enterprising for a young lady. -Yet, if Moncrief had not been with him, he would certainly have given -chase, and satisfied himself as to the identity of the child or woman -who had crossed their path. - -On this particular afternoon, however, Wilton's thoughts were occupied -by the letters he had received that morning, one of which was from Lord -St. George, who wrote to remind him of his promise to call when he -passed through London again. The viscount also mentioned that a former -friend of his, the Earl of D----, would be in his (Wilton's) -neighborhood early in November, and would probably call upon him. - -Wilton smiled as he read this, remembering that the earl had three -unmarried daughters. "A young gentleman," the writer continued, "calling -himself St. George Wilton, left a card here some days ago, and was good -enough to say that he would call again, which enabled me to forbid his -admittance. He did repeat the attempt, when he told my valet, whom he -asked to see, that he was going to Scotland, and would probably see -Colonel Wilton, if I had any commands. I imagine my obliging namesake is -a son of Fred Wilton, who was in the navy--but not exactly the type of -an honest, simple sailor. I would advise you not to be on too cousinly -terms. I have heard, even in my cell, of the young gentleman's -diplomatic astuteness." - -Pondering on this epistle, and smiling at the sudden interest evinced -toward him by the eccentric peer, Wilton rode leisurely toward -Monkscleugh, enjoying the splendid golden evening tinge in the sky, the -rich and varied hues of wood and moorland, when a sudden turn in the -road brought him face to face with a slight, gray figure, wearing a -wide-brimmed hat, and carrying a small parcel. In an instant all the -half-scorned but potent longings, the vivid picture-like recollections -of tones and glances, that had haunted him even while he laughed at -himself for being pervaded by them--all these absurd fancies he had so -nearly shaken off rushed back in a torrent, and made his pulses leap at -the immediate prospect of solving many mysteries. - -He was dismounted and at her side in an instant. "I thought you had -vanished--that I had lost you forever!" he exclaimed, with the sort of -well-bred impetuosity peculiar to his manner; while, seeing that she -made no motion to hold out her hand, he only lifted his hat. - -The faint color came to her cheek as she raised her eyes frankly to his, -with a brighter, merrier smile than he had seen upon her lip before. -"Nevertheless, I have not been very far away." - -"Have you been at Brosedale all the time--then how is it we have not -met?" - -"I cannot tell; but I have been at Brosedale." - -Wilton threw the reins over his arm, and walked on beside her. "And are -you all right again--recovered from your fright, and had sleep enough?" -looking at her eagerly as he spoke, and noting the soft lustre of her -eyes, the clear, pale cheek, the ripe red though not full lips, all so -much fairer and fresher than when they parted. - -"Yes, I am quite well, and rested." A pause. She was apparently not -inclined to talk more than she could help. - -"Do you know I quite expected to see you when I dined at Brosedale the -other day--how was it you did not appear?" - -"What! did you expect to see me at dinner? Do you, then, think I am a -much-disguised princess?" - -"Not so very much disguised," he replied, rather surprised at her tone. - -She raised her eyes fully to his, with a look half amused, half -scornful. "You might dine many times at Brosedale without seeing me. Do -you know that Sir Peter Fergusson was married before, and he has one -son--a poor, crippled, often-suffering boy of thirteen, I think? Well, -this boy can do very little to amuse himself; he does not care for -study, but he loves pictures and drawing, so I was engaged about a year -ago to be, not his governess--I am too ignorant--nor his companion--that -would be a lady-in-waiting--but a _souffre douleur_ and teacher of -drawing. I live with my poor boy, who is never shown to visitors; and we -are not unhappy together." - -"I have heard of this son, but thought he was away; and you are always -with him--very fortunate for him, but what a life for you!" - -"A far better life than many women have," she replied, softly, looking -away from him and speaking as if to herself. - -"Still, it is an awful sacrifice!" - -She laughed with real, sweet merriment. "That depends on what has been -sacrificed. And you," she went on, with the odd independence of manner -which, had her voice been less soft and low, her bearing less gentle, -might have seemed audacious, "do you like Glenraven? Have you found many -lovely bits of scenery?" - -"I am charmed with the country; and, were I as fortunate as young -Fergusson in a companion, I might even try my 'prentice hand at -sketching." - -"If you will not try alone, neither will you even if Claude Lorraine -came to cut your pencils." - -"I wish," said Wilton, "I had a chance of cutting yours." - -"But you have not," she returned, with a sort of indolent gravity not in -the least coquettish, and a pause ensued. Wilton had seldom felt so -adrift with any woman; perfectly frank and ready to talk, there was yet -a strange half-cold indifference in her manner that did not belong to -her fair youth, and upon which he dared not presume, though he chafed -inwardly at the mask her frankness offered. - -"I suppose you are kept very much in the house with your--pupil?" asked -Wilton. - -"Sometimes; he has been very unwell since I came back. But he has a -pony-carriage, and he drives about, and I drive it occasionally; but it -pains him to walk, poor fellow! He is interested in some things. He -wished much to see you and hear about the Crimea and India." - -"I am sure," cried Wilton, with great readiness, "I should be most happy -to see him or contribute to his amusement--pray tell him so from me." - -"No, I cannot," with a shake of the head; "Lady Fergusson is so very -good she thinks everything wrong; and to walk upon a country-road with a -great man like you would be worse than wrong--it would be shocking!" - -Wilton could not refrain from laughing at the droll gravity of her -tone, though in some indefinable way it piqued and annoyed him. - -"Well, they are all out of the way--they have driven over to A----. Have -they not?" - -"Yes, and therefore there was no one to send to Monkscleugh to choose -some prints that Donald wanted very much for a screen we are making, so -I went." - -"And so at last I had the pleasure of meeting you. I had begun to fear I -should never have a chance of asking if you had recovered from your -fright; for though no woman could have shown more pluck, you must have -been frightened." - -"I was, indeed, and I do not think I am naturally brave; but I must bid -you good-morning--my way lies through the plantations." - -"No, no! you must not send me adrift--are we not comrades? We have faced -danger together; and I am sure you are not influenced by Lady -Fergusson's views." - -"Lady Fergusson! pooh!" - -There was wonderful, airy, becoming grace in the pant which seemed to -blow defiance like a kiss to the immaculate Lady Fergusson. -"Nevertheless, I must say good-by, for your horse could not get through -that." - -She pointed to a small swing-gate, which led from the road to a path -across a piece of rough heath-grown ground, between the road and the -woods. - -"Do you forbid me to escort you farther?" said Wilton, quickly. - -She thought an instant. "Were I going to walk along the road I should -not," the faintest color stealing over her cheek as she spoke; "it is -pleasant to talk with a new person sometimes, but I cannot alter my -route." - -Wilton laughed, and, mounting rapidly, rode to the farther side of the -wide waste border, where there was almost a small common; rousing up his -horse he rushed him at the fence separating Sir Peter's land from the -road, and landed safely within the boundary just as his companion passed -through the gate. - -She gave a slight suppressed scream, and as he again dismounted and -joined her she looked very pale. - -"How could you be so foolish as to do so!" she exclaimed, almost angry. -"You have frightened me." - -"I am extremely sorry, but you can know little of country-life; any man -accustomed to hunt, and tolerably mounted, could have done as much." - -She shook her head and walked on in silence, most embarrassing to -Wilton. "I hope I have not displeased you," he said, earnestly, trying -to look into her eyes; "but I thought I had your permission to accompany -you a little farther." - -"Yes, but who could imagine you would commit such an eccentricity as to -take a leap like that?" - -"I do not allow it was an eccentricity, I suppose you absolve me?" - -"_Absolvo te!_--and the horse also. What a beautiful horse; how gently -he follows you! I should so much like to sketch him; I fear I do not -sketch animals well; I do not catch their character. Oh! could I sketch -him now!" stopping short, and speaking with great animation. "Ah! I am -too unreasonable--how could I ask you?" - -The faint flitting flush that gave so much charm to her countenance, the -sudden lighting up of her dark eyes with childlike eagerness, so unlike -their usual expression of rather sad indifference, fascinated Wilton -strangely; it was an instant before he replied, "Of course you shall -sketch him; I have nothing to do, and am very glad to be of any service -to you." - -"Thank you, thank you very much! See," as she hastily unfolded her -parcel, "I had just bought a new sketch-book, and you have provided a -frontispiece." She seated herself on one of the large gray stones that -dotted the piece of ground they were crossing, and quickly pointed a -pencil. "There, turn his head a little toward me--not quite so much; -that will do." - -For some time Wilton stood still and silent, watching the small, white, -deft fingers as they firmly and rapidly traced the outline, or put in -the shading with broad, bold strokes; occasionally he quieted the horse -with a word, while he stored his memory with the pretty graceful figure, -from a tiny foot half-buried in the soft, short grass to the well-set, -haughty head and neck. "It is curious," he thought; "here is a girl, in -almost a menial position, with all the attributes of race, and a pair of -eyes a king's daughter might pine to possess. Who can she be? What is -her history? Why did she venture out alone when she ought to have been -going to bed? I shall ask her." These ideas passed through Wilton's -brain, although any clear continuity of thought was considerably impeded -by the intermittent glimpses of a pair of full, deep-blue eyes, -alternately upturned and downcast. - -Suddenly Wilton was ordered, "Look away--over your horse's neck;" and -when, having preserved this position for several moments, he attempted -to assume a more agreeable attitude, he was met with an eager "Pray be -still for a little longer." - -At last he was released. - -"There," said his new acquaintance, "I will keep you no longer; you have -been very kind. See, how have I done it?" - -Wilton looked eagerly at the page held out to him. - -"It is wonderfully good for so hasty a sketch," he said; "the head and -foreleg are capital, and as far as I can judge, the likeness to the -back of my head first-rate." - -"I can generally catch the likeness of people," she returned, looking at -the page and touching it here and there. - -"Was that the reason you told me to look away?" asked Wilton, smiling. - -"No; I did not wish your face in my book." Then, coloring and looking -up, "Not that I forget your kindness to me. No; but, you understand, if -Lady Fergusson found Mr.--that is, Colonel--Wilton's face in my book it -would be the most shocking--the superlative shocking! Ah, there is no -word enormous enough for such a 'shocking!'" And she laughed low but -merrily. Wilton found it catching and laughed too, though it puzzled him -to reply. She went on, "You would have come in better for the picture -had you had your soldier's dress on, holding the horse and looking thus; -and then, with some bright coloring, it might have been called 'On the -Alert,' or some such thing, and sold for a hundred pence. I have seen -this sort of sketches often in picture-shops." She spoke quickly, as if -to cover a slight embarrassment, as she put away her pencils and book. - -"Well, Miss Rivers, both Omar here and myself will be most happy to -sit, or rather stand, for you whenever you like." - -"Ah, I shall never have another opportunity," she replied, walking -toward the next fence and swing-gate, which led into the wood. - -"You threatened as much when I bade you good-by, that I was never to see -you again, and yet we have met; so I shall not be utterly downcast by -your present prophecy." - -She did not reply for a minute, and then exclaimed, "Suppose I were ever -to succeed in making painting my career, would you, when you are a great -nobleman--as Miss Saville says you will be--sit to me for your picture? -And then we should have in the catalogue of the year's exhibition, -'Portrait of the Earl--or Duke--of Blank, by Ella Rivers.'" - -"I can only say I will sit to you when and where you will." - -"Ah, the possibility of independent work is too charming! But I forget -myself--what o'clock is it?" - -"Quarter to three," said Wilton, looking at his watch. - -"Then I have been out too long. See how low the sun is! What glorious -sunset hues! But I must not stay. Oh, how I hate to go in! How I love -the liberty of the open air--the free, unwalled space! I feel another -being in the prison of a great house. If you met me there, you would -not know me. I should not dare to look up; I should speak with bated -breath, as if you were a superior. Can you fancy such a thing?" - -"No; the wildest stretch of my imagination could not suggest such an -idea. But can you not keep out a little longer?" There was a strained, -yearning look in her eyes that touched Wilton to the heart. - -"Impossible! My poor Donald will be cross and wretched. And you--you -must go. I am foolish to have talked so much." - -"You must let me come a little farther; that fence up there is -considerably stiffer than the last, but I think Omar will take it." - -"No, no, no!" clasping her hands. - -"Yet you are not easily frightened. A young lady that can venture on a -moonlight ramble when less adventurous people are going to bed must have -strong nerves." - -"Did you recognize me, then?" she interrupted, not in the least -disturbed by his question, but offering no explanation of her appearance -at such an hour. "Yes, I am not cowardly in some things. However, I must -say good morning." - -"And you will not permit me come any farther?" - -"No!"--He felt her "no" was very earnest.--"Nay, more, I will stay here -until I see you safe at the other side of that fence again." - -There was a quaint, unembarrassed decision in her tone that somewhat -lessened the pleasure with which he heard her. - -"I assure you, it is not worth your while to watch so insignificant a -feat of horsemanship; that fence is a nothing." - -"It does not seem so to me. It is possible an accident might happen, and -then you would have no help. It would not be right to go on, and leave -you to chance." - -"If you will, then, I shall not keep you long. But, Miss Rivers, shall -you not want to visit Monkscleugh soon again? Have you abjured the -picturesque braes of Glenraven? Is there no chance of another artistic -talk with you?" - -"No! Scarcely any possibility of such a thing. Good-by! I am much -obliged for the sketch you granted me. My good wishes!"--a slight, -proudly-gracious bend of the head--"but go!" She stood with her parcel -tightly held, not the slightest symptom of a shake of the hand; and, -bold man of the world as he was, Wilton felt he must not presume to hold -out his; he therefore sprung into the saddle, and was soon over the -fence and on the road. He raised his hat, and received a wave of the -hand in return. - -He remained there until she vanished through the gate, and then, -touching his impatient horse with the heel, rode at speed to -Monkscleugh, whence, having accomplished his errand, he made a -considerable _détour_; so that evening had closed in, and the major was -waiting for dinner when he reached the lodge. - -"Where have you been?" demanded his hungry senior. Wilton replied by an -elaborate description of his progress, _minus_ the leading incident. The -care he took to mislead his friend and mask his own movements was -surprising almost to himself. Yet, as he reflected, what was there in -the whole adventure to conceal? No harm, certainly. Nor was Moncrief a -man who would jest coarsely, or draw wicked inferences. Still, it was -impossible that he or any man could understand the sort of impression -Ella (it was extraordinary how readily her name came to his mind) had -made upon him, unless he knew her; and even then, what opinion would a -cool, shrewd, common-sense fellow like Moncrief form? He (Wilton) -himself was, he feared, an impressionable idiot, and, no doubt, -exaggerated effects. Nevertheless, those soft, deep eyes, with their -earnest, yearning expression, haunted him almost painfully. If he could -see them again, perhaps the effect would wear off; and, without thinking -of the consequences, he most resolutely determined to see her as soon as -he could possibly manage to do so, without drawing down any -unpleasantness on that curious, puzzling, _piquante_ girl. Major -Moncrief little imagined the vivid gleams of recollection and conjecture -which ever and anon shot athwart the current of his companion's ideas, -as he took his part in a discussion on the probable future of the army -in India with apparent interest, and even eagerness. The major's -intelligence was keen so far as it went, but that was not far; -therefore, though good comrades and excellent friends, they seldom -agreed in opinion, Wilton's mental views being greatly wider: the result -of the difference being that Moncrief considered Wilton "a fine fellow, -but deucedly visionary--unpractical, in short," except in regimental -matters; while Wilton spoke confidentially of the major as "a capital -old boy, but blind as a bat in some directions." - -"Well, I maintain that we will never have such men again as the soldiers -and diplomates trained under the old company. Why, even the officers of -the humbler grade--the Jacobs and Greens, to say nothing of Edwards and -a lot more--have very few equals in the queen's service." - -"True enough," replied Wilton, a little absently. "We have too much -pipe-clay and red-tape." So spake he with his lips, while his brain was -striving busily to solve the question, "What could have brought her out -at night through the lonely woods? Was it possible that any motive less -strong than an appointment with a lover could have braced a slight, -nervous girl (for, though plucky, she is nervous) to such an -undertaking? But, if she cared enough for any one to dare it, it would -be worth braving a good deal to meet her." The picture suggested was -rather fascinating, for the major exclaimed, "I say, Wilton, are you -asleep?" and brought their discussion to an end. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -Another week passed rapidly over, assisted in its flight by two capital -runs with the Friarshire hounds and a dinner at a neighboring magnate's, -where Wilton made himself marvellously agreeable to Helen Saville, and -promised to ride with her next day; but neither at luncheon nor in the -house or grounds did he catch a glimpse of Ella Rivers; again she had -totally disappeared. - -Miss Saville did not find Wilton so pleasant a companion, either during -their ride or the luncheon which preceded it, as he had been at dinner -the day before. - -The accomplished Miss Walker and her pupil joined the party, but no -other junior member of the family. - -"What an infamous shame," thought Wilton, "not to let that poor boy have -a little society!" However, Fortune was not quite inexorable. As Wilton -rode up to the door on their return, intending to bid the young ladies -under his escort good-by, he became aware of a small figure, with a -large head and prominent eyes, standing on the threshold, supported by -crutches, while a pony-carriage was just disappearing toward the -stables. - -"What a nuisance!" said Helen to Gertrude. "I wonder what that boy -wants?" - -"Well, Donald, you ought not to stay here after your drive. You will -take cold," said Miss Saville. - -"Never you mind," retorted the boy, in a shrill, resentful voice. "I -want to speak to Colonel Wilton." - -"To me?" said Wilton, coming forward. - -"Yes, I have asked them all to bring you to see me, and they won't. I -believe they'd like to smother me altogether. Will you come and see me -and Ella? I want to hear about a battle and lots of things." - -He spoke with a sort of querulous impetuosity. - -"I shall be most happy to rub up my recollections for your benefit," -said Wilton, good-humoredly, and taking the hand which the little -cripple contrived to hold out to him. - -"When will you come? To-morrow?" - -"I am afraid I cannot," replied Wilton, remembering an engagement with -Moncrief, and speaking with very genuine regret. - -"Well, the day after?" - -"Oh, don't tease, Donny," cried Gertrude Saville. - -"The first time Colonel Wilton comes over to luncheon I will ask him to -come and talk to you," said Helen. - -"Colonel Wilton, will you just ask for me--Master Fergusson! In the old -times, I would be 'Master of Brosedale.' I shall never see you if you do -not." - -"Depend on my calling on you," returned Wilton, smiling. - -"And soon?" - -"Yes, very soon." - -Without another word, the unfortunate heir of so much wealth turned and -limped into the hall with surprising rapidity. - -"How annoying!" cried Gertrude. - -"What an awful bore!" said Helen. "Really, Colonel Wilton, I am quite -vexed that he should intrude himself upon you." - -"Why! I do not see anything vexatious in it." - -"You are too good. Do you know that boy is the bane of our existence?" - -"Do you wish me to shoot him?" asked Wilton, laughing. "I really cannot -wait to do so at present, so good morning, though closing shades almost -compel me to say good night." - - -It was nearly a week before Wilton permitted himself to accept the -invitation given him by the heir of Brosedale, and, in the interim, he -dined at D---- Castle. The Ladies Mowbray were pleasant, unaffected -girls, considerably less imposing and more simple than Helen Saville. - -"These are exactly the style of women to please Lord St. George," -thought Wilton, as he walked over to Brosedale a day or two after. "And -very much the style to please myself formerly; but at present--no. I am -wonderfully absorbed by this temporary insanity, which must not lead me -too far." Musing in this strain, he reached the grand, brand-new house, -where Lady Fergusson and her daughters received him in rich silk morning -costumes, very becoming and tasteful, but, somehow, not so pleasant to -his eye as the pretty, fresh print dresses of Lord D----'s daughters. - -Sir Peter came in to luncheon, which he did not always. His presence -generally produced a depressing effect upon his fair step-daughters, and -Wilton began to fear that no one would give him an opening to fulfil his -promise to the crippled boy. At last he took the initiative himself; -and, when Sir Peter paused in an exposition of the opium-trade, Wilton -addressed Helen: - -"You must not let me break my promise to your brother--step-brother, I -mean." - -"How! what!" exclaimed Sir Peter to his wife. "Has he seen Donald?" He -spoke in a sharp, startled tone. - -"The young gentleman introduced himself to me at the entrance of your -hospitable mansion the other day, and expressed a wish to hear my -warlike experiences, so I promised to give him a _séance_." - -"You are very good," said Sir Peter, slowly, looking down. "Donald has -but few pleasures, poor fellow!" - -After this, all the talk died out of the little baronet, and he soon -rose and left the room. - -"Indeed!" cried Gertrude, as the door closed on her step-father, "Donald -has tormented us ever since to know when you were coming to see him. You -had better take Colonel Wilton to the school-room, Helen, and have done -with it." - -"I am quite ashamed of troubling you, Colonel Wilton," said Lady -Fergusson. "But that boy's whims are very absurd, and Sir Peter is very -weak, I must say." - -"However, we have had quite a respite since little Miss Rivers came -down," interrupted Helen Saville. "She manages him wonderfully. You -cannot think what a curious pair they are together. You have seen -Donald; and Miss Rivers, though not absolutely plain, is a cold, -colorless little thing, generally very silent." - -"But she can tell stories delightfully," cried Isabella; "she makes -Donald laugh and be quite good-humored for hours together." - -"I fear," interrupted the accomplished Miss Walker, "that, if my young -charge is too much with Master Fergusson and his companion, her mind -will be quite occupied with a very useless array of fairy tales and -legends, more calculated to distort than to illustrate historic truth." - -"I am sure you are right, Miss Walker. Isabella, you must not go into -Donald's room without Miss Walker's permission," remarked Lady -Fergusson. - -"And she will never let me," said Isabella, with a very rebellious pout. - -"Well, well, let us get this visit over," cried Helen, rising. "I will -see if he is in the house and visible." - -"You cannot think what a nuisance that poor boy was to my girls at -first, and how well they bore with him, particularly Helen," said Lady -Fergusson. "I am sure Miss Walker did the state great service when she -found little Miss Rivers. She suits Donald wonderfully, though she is an -oddity in her own way also." - -Miss Walker murmured something about "being happy," but her tone was -melancholy and uncertain, as though she thought the introduction of an -element at variance with historic truth was a doubtful good. - -Wilton made no direct reply; he was curious to ascertain if Miss Rivers -had mentioned him, and anxious in any case to play into her hands. - -Helen Saville returned quickly. - -"Yes," she said, "Donald is at home, and will be highly pleased to see -you." - -Wilton accordingly followed her through various well-warmed and carpeted -passages to a handsome room on the sunny side of the house, which was -the dwelling-place of the heir. Books and music, a piano, -drawing-materials, globes, pictures, maps, all appliances for amusement -and study, gave a pleasant aspect to the apartment. The boy was seated -in a chair of elaborate make, furnished with a desk and candle-holder, -and which could be raised or lowered to any angle. His crutch lay at -hand, and he seemed engaged in drawing. He was plain and unattractive -enough--a shrivelled-looking frame, a large head, wide mouth, projecting -brow--all the characteristics of deformity. Even large and glittering -eyes did not redeem the pale, wan face, over which gleamed a malign -expression by no means pleasant to a stranger. - -"I thought you would never come," he exclaimed, bluntly, in a harsh, -querulous voice, and holding out his hand. - -"You will accept me now I am here, I hope," said Wilton, smiling. - -"Oh, yes; I am very glad to see you." - -"You are an artist, I see?" - -"I hope to be one. Look here." - -Wilton approached his desk. A sketch lay upon it. A confused mass of -figures, apparently intended for a desperate battle. - -"This," continued Donald, "is what I wanted you for. This is a study for -a large picture in oils (I will begin it when I am a little stronger) of -the battle of Balaklava. Nothing has ever been made of this subject, and -I want to make something of it; so I thought you would just look at my -sketch and see if I have caught an idea of the scene, and correct any -inaccuracy that strikes you." - -"I should be most happy to help you," returned Wilton, looking -hopelessly at the crowd of forms before him; "but I fear my capabilities -are not quite equal to the task. In the first place, I was not in the -Balaklava affair, and then one's recollections of a battle are not very -clear." - -"If confusion is a true likeness, Donny's picture will be remarkably -successful," said Miss Saville, with a grave manner. Her words brought a -flush to the boy's pale brow. - -"I wish you would go away," he said, rudely and abruptly. "I can never -talk about anything when you are by." - -"To hear is to obey," replied Miss Saville, rising; "only do not try -Colonel Wilton's patience too much." - -"Go! go!" returned Donald, almost fiercely. - -Wilton could not refrain from smiling as she left the room. - -"I hate those Savilles!" cried Donald, observing it; "and so would you -if you lived in the house with them." - -"That is a subject on which we shall never agree. Let us return to your -picture," said Wilton, thinking what a thorough "sell" it would be if -Ella Rivers never made her appearance; for, with all his surface easy -good-nature, Wilton did not fancy sacrificing even a small share of his -time to an ill-natured imp like this. - -"Look here! I have made this hussar grasp a lancer by the throat, and -thrust a sword into his side. Will that do?" - -"I see. Well, hardly. You know both hussars and lancers were our men, -therefore you must not make them fight; and here you have not the -Russian uniform quite correctly. I think I have some sketches of the -Russians that would help you. But is it not rather ambitious for such a -youngster as yourself to aim at historical painting?" - -"That is what Ella says; but it is my only chance of fame." The word on -his lips was suggestive of sadness, and Wilton looked at the frail -form, the pallid face, the thin, tremulous, feverish fingers with -compassion. Before he could reply, a door behind him opened softly. "Oh, -come here, Ella!" cried Donald. Wilton turned quickly, and just caught a -glimpse of a gray skirt vanishing. "Ella, come back! Ella! Ella!" -screamed the boy, with a sort of angry impatience that would not be -denied. - -"I am here, then," she said, reopening the door and coming in. - -Wilton felt his (not inexperienced) heart throb as she approached, her -cheek warm with a soft, flitting blush, a slight smile upon her lips, -but her large eyes grave and calm. It was the first time Wilton had seen -her in-doors, and the delicate dignity of her look, especially the -setting on of her head, charmed him. The excessive simplicity of her -perpetual gray dress could not hide the grace of her slim, round form, -and yet he could well imagine that the vulgar, common taste that looks -for rich color and striking outline might consider the quiet moonlight -beauty of this obscure girl something almost plain. - -Wilton greeted her silently as she approached, with a profound bow. She -acknowledged him. - -"I did not know you had any one with you," she said to her pupil. - -"Do you know Colonel Wilton?" he asked, sharply. - -"He was in the train with me when the collision occurred," she replied -quietly, the color fading away from her cheek, and leaving it very pale. - -"Why did you not tell me?" - -"There was nothing to tell, and you never asked me about my adventures." - -"This young gentleman is very ambitious," said Wilton, to change the -subject. "He is designing to immortalize himself and the Six Hundred at -once." - -"He will not have patience. I tell him that even the greatest genius -must wait and work." She sighed as she spoke. "Besides, it is almost -desecration for art to bestow itself on such a subject." - -"There!" cried the boy, passionately, "you always discourage me; you are -cruel! Have I so much pleasure or hope that you should take this from -me?" - -She rose from the seat she had taken and came to him, laying her hand on -his shoulder with a wonderfully tender gesture. "I do not discourage -you, _caro_! You have much ability, but you have scarcely fourteen -years. Twenty years hence you will still be young, quite young enough to -paint men tearing each other to pieces with immense success. Now, you -must learn to walk before you can fly upon the wings of fame. Let us put -this away." - -"No, you shall not. As to twenty years hence, do not talk of them to -me!" - -The fierce, complaining tone passed from his voice, and he leaned back, -raising his eyes to hers with a yearning, loving, sad expression that -struck Wilton with strange jealousy. The boy was old for his years, and -perhaps, unknown to himself, loved his gentle companion with more than -brotherly love. The idea chafed him, and to banish it he spoke: - -"Why not make separate studies for your figures? It will practise your -hand and make material for your picture. I will send you over the -Russian views and figures I have; they will help you as to costume and -scenery." - -There was a pause. Wilton was determined not to go away; and Donald, the -fire gone from his eyes, his very figure limp, would not speak. At last, -Miss Rivers, who was arranging a box of colors, said, "This -gentleman--Colonel Wilton's suggestion is very good. Suppose you act -upon it? And perhaps he will come again, and see how you go on." - -She looked at Colonel Wilton as she spoke, and he tried to make out -whether she wished him to return, or to give him the opportunity of -escape. Although not inclined to under-estimate himself, he came to the -latter conclusion; but did not avail himself of it. - -"You have something more to show me, have you not!" he asked, kindly. - -"Yes; plenty much better," answered Ella Rivers for him; and, slipping -away the fatal battle-scene, she replaced it with a portfolio full of -sketches very unequal in merit. Ella quickly picked out the best, and -Donald appeared to cheer up under the encouragement of Wilton's praise. - -"Show your sketch of 'Dandy,'" said the boy to Ella.--"She draws very -well.--Bring your portfolio, Ella," he went on. - -"It is not necessary. You are keeping Colonel Wilton." - -"You are not, indeed. I rather fancy you wish to get rid of me, Miss -Rivers." - -"Miss Rivers! Miss Rivers! How did you know her name?" - -"I? Oh, I have heard it several times! Your sister mentioned Miss Rivers -to-day at luncheon." - -"Show your book, Ella, at all events." - -She went to a distant table, after a full, searching look at Colonel -Wilton, and brought the book he well remembered. - -"Here is a capital likeness of my pony and my father's pet Skye. But, -Ella, you have torn out a page--the first one. Why?" - -"Because it pleased me to do so." She spoke very composedly, but the -color went and came faintly in her cheek. - -"Do tell me why, Ella?" with sharp, angry entreaty. - -"I will _not_, Donald! You are tyrannical." - -His eyes flashed, but he controlled himself. - -"Is not this capital?" he asked, holding out the book. - -"Very good--first-rate," returned Wilton, looking at two admirably drawn -figures of a pony and dog. - -"It is better. I want to improve in animals," said Ella, looking down -upon the page; and a little conversation ensued respecting this line of -art, in which Donald took no share. Suddenly Ella looked at him. "You -are ill! you are suffering!" she exclaimed, darting to his side, and -putting her arm round his neck, while, pale as death and half fainting, -he rested his head against her breast. - -"Pray bring me that phial and glass from the cabinet," she said, -quickly. Wilton obeyed; he held the glass while she poured out the right -quantity; he took the bottle again, while she held the glass to the poor -boy's lips; he assisted to lower the wonderful chair till the weary head -could be gently placed in a restful position, all without a word being -exchanged; then Ella took the poor, thin hand in hers, and felt the -pulse, and stroked it. - -Donald opened his eyes. "Ella, I am better; ask him to say nothing -about it." - -"I will, dear Donald, I will."--Then, turning to Wilton, "Come, I will -show the way." The moment they crossed the threshold she exclaimed, "It -will be better to say nothing about it; Lady Fergusson would only come -and make a fuss and torment him, so I troubled you instead of ringing; -but I do not apologize. You would willingly help him, I am sure." - -"Yes, of course; but what a responsibility for you!" - -"Oh, I understand him, and I often see the doctor. Ah, what a life! what -suffering! what a terrible nature! But I must not stay. You, you were -prudent--that is--pooh! I am foolish. I mean to say, I am glad you -scarcely appeared to know me. I say nothing of myself here; I am an -abstraction, a machine, a companion! Good-by." For the first time she -held out her hand with a gracious, queenly gesture. Wilton took and held -it. - -"One moment," he said, quickly. "Shall I never have another chance of a -word with you in the free air? Is there no errand to Monkscleugh that -may lead to a rencontre?" - -"If I meet you," she said, "I will speak to you; but it is, and must be, -a mere chance. Follow that corridor, turn to the left, and you will be -in the hall. Good-by." She was gone. - - -"Well, what sort of fellow is this cousin of yours? I suppose you met -him last night? I never thought we should tumble into the trammels of -polite society when I recommended these shootings to you. I have -scarcely seen you the last ten days. What's come to you, lad?" - -So growled Moncrief one morning as he smoked the after-breakfast cigar, -previous to turning out for a run with the "Friarshire." - -"Oh! St. George Wilton is rather an amusing fellow; he is tolerably -good-looking, and has lots of small talk; one of those men who do not -believe much in anything, I fancy, except self and self-interest, but -for dear self-sake not disposed to rub other people the wrong way. He is -a favorite with the ladies--cuts me out with the fair Helen." - -"Hum! I doubt that. I do not think you would let him if he tried; for of -course _that's_ the attraction to Brosedale." - -"Is it?" returned Wilton, carelessly, as he prepared a cigar. - -"Yes; I know you think I am as blind as a mole, but I can see there is -something that takes you to Brosedale. It's not Sir Peter, though he's -the best of the lot. It's not my lady; and it cannot be that imp of a -boy you are so fond of carrying pictures to--I suppose for a 'ploy to -get into the interior, though they are sweet enough upon you without -that; so it must be that girl." - -"Your reasoning is so admirable," returned Wilton, laughing -good-humoredly, "that I should like to hear a little more." - -"Eh!" said the major, looking up at him curiously. "Well, my lad, I am -only anxious for your own sake. Helen Saville is not the style of woman -Lord St. George would like; the family are by no means _sans reproche;_ -and--I don't fancy her myself." - -"That is conclusive," replied Wilton, gravely. "But make your mind easy; -I am not going to marry Helen Saville, nor do I think she expects me to -do so." - -"What she expects, God knows, but there is something not all square -about you, Wilton." - -"My dear fellow, do you want me to call you out?" - -"You must just go your own way, which, no doubt, you would in any case; -but I am off on Monday next to pay my sister a visit. I have put her off -from time to time, but I must go now." - -"By Jove, I shall be quite desolate! And will you not return, old -fellow?" - -"I think not. At any rate, I shall not be able to come north again till -near Christmas; and I hardly suppose you will be here then." - -"That depends," said Wilton, thoughtfully. - -"On what?" asked the major, quickly. - -"Oh! the sport--my own whims--the general attractions of the -neighborhood." - -"----the attractions of the neighborhood!" cried Moncrief, profanely. -"Why do you not make up to Lady Mary or Lady Susan Mowbray? They are -nice girls and no mistake; just the very thing for you. But I am a fool -to trouble myself about you; only I have always looked after you since -you joined. However, you are old enough to take care of yourself." - -"Perhaps I ought to be, at any rate; and although I have somehow managed -to 'rile' you, I have never forgotten, and never will forget, what a -brick you have always been." - -Major Moncrief growled out some indistinct words, and went to the -window; Wilton followed him. "You'll scarcely manage a run to-day;" he -said; "the ground is very hard, and, if I am not much mistaken, there's -a lot of snow up there," pointing to a dense mass of heavy drab clouds -to windward. - -"No," returned Moncrief, uncertainly, "it is considerably milder this -morning; besides, the wind is too high, and it is too early for snow." - -"Not in these latitudes; and it has been deucedly cold for the week -past." - -"At any rate, I will go to the meet," said Moncrief, leaving the room. -"What are you going to do?" - -"I shall not hunt to-day; I am going over to Monkscleugh." - -"Hum! to buy toys for the child?" - -"Yes," said Wilton, laughing. "But for to-day I am safe: Lady Fergusson -and her fair daughter, attended by our diplomatic cousin, are going to -Brantwood, where there is a coming-of-age ball, or some such high-jinks. -They politely invited me to be of the party; but I resisted, Moncrief--I -resisted!" - -"Did you, by George! That puzzles me." - -"By St. George, you mean. Why, you suspicious old boy, you do seem not -satisfied; and yet Helen Saville will be away three or four days." - -"I'll be hanged if I can make you out!" said the major, and walked away. - -Wilton threw himself into an arm-chair and laughed aloud; then he turned -very grave, and thought long and deeply. If Moncrief only knew where the -real danger lay, and what it was! How was it that he had permitted this -mere whim, half curiosity, half compassion, to grow into such -troublesome proportions? He knew it was folly, and yet he could not -resist! He had always felt interested and attracted by that strange -girl whose mingled coldness and sweetness charmed and wounded him; but -now, since he had seen her oftener, and listened to her voice, and heard -the sudden but rare outbreaks of enthusiasm and feeling which would -force themselves into expression, as if in spite of her will, he was -conscious that his feelings were deepening into intense passion and -tenderness. - -To catch a sympathetic look, a special smile, a little word to himself -alone--such were the nothings watched for, sought, treasured, remembered -by our patrician soldier. The vision of that poor, suffering boy leaning -his head against Ella and clasped in her arms, seemed indelibly stamped -upon his brain. It was constantly before him, though he fought gallantly -against it. - -It seemed to have brought about a crisis of feeling. Before that, though -touched, interested, curious, he was not absorbed; now, reason as he -would, resist as he would, he could not banish the desperate longing to -be in that boy's place just for once. In short, Wilton was possessed by -one of those rare but real passions which, when they seize upon a man of -his age, are infinitely more powerful, more dangerous, or, as the case -may be, more noble, than when they partake of the eager effervescence of -youth. - -And what was to be the end thereof?--so he asked himself as, starting -from his seat, he paced the room. - -Ardently as he felt, he could not but acknowledge that to marry a girl, -not only in a position little more than menial, but of whose antecedents -he knew absolutely nothing--who, for some mysterious reason, did not -seem to have a friend on earth--was a piece of folly he ought to be -ashamed to commit. And yet to give her up--worse still, to leave her for -some demure curate, some enterprising bagman to win, perhaps to trample -upon? Impossible! - -What then? It must not be asserted that the possibility of some tie less -galling and oppressive than matrimony never presented itself to Ralph -Wilton's mind. He had known such conditions among his friends, and some -(according to his lax but not altogether unpopular opinions) had not -turned out so badly for any of the parties concerned; but in this case -he rejected the idea as simply out of the question. He would no more -dare breathe it to that obscure little girl than to a princess. It would -be hard enough to win or rouse her to admit him as a lover, even on the -most honorable terms. She seemed not to think such things existed for -her. There was in her such a curious mixture of frankness and -indifference, coldness, sweetness, all flecked with sparks of occasional -fire, that Wilton could not help believing she had some uncommon -history; and there were times when he felt that, if he but asked her, -she would tell him everything he craved to know. Never had he met a -woman (for, young as she was, she was eminently womanly) so utterly -without coquetry. Her perfect freedom from this feminine ingredient was -almost insulting, and a certain instinct warned him from attempting to -break through the invisible barrier which her unconscious simplicity -created. Yet all this restraint was becoming intolerable. At Brosedale -he never saw her alone; out of it, he never saw her at all. The desire -to know all about her, to impress her, to win her, and the struggling -instinct of caste, the dread of making some false step that would ruin -him in her estimation, tormented him almost into a fever. - -His long meditation ended in his ringing sharply, and ordering round the -dog-cart to drive into Monkscleugh. - -"It's sure to snow, sir," said his servant. - -"Not yet, I think. At any rate, I shall take my chance." - -"Yes," he continued, half aloud, as the man disappeared, "I must make -the attempt; and if I meet her--why, what will be, will be!" With this -profoundly philosophic conclusion he proceeded to draw on an overcoat -and prepare for his cold drive. - -The previous day, Wilton had managed, by a profound stratagem, to -procure an interview with Donald, and for his pains found that young -gentleman fearfully cross and rude, moreover alone: but, in the course -of their short conversation, the heir of Brosedale confessed to being -greatly enraged at the non-appearance of some fresh drawing-materials -which had been forwarded from London, and of which no tidings could be -heard; that "Dandy," his special pony, was ill or disabled, and no one -was at liberty to go for them; so Ella had promised to walk over to -Monkscleugh the next morning. - -Of course Wilton discovered that he, too, had "urgent private affairs" -of his own to transact in the town, and, had it "rained elephants and -rhinoceroses," he would have persevered. - -It was a still, cold morning. The bitter wind of the day before had -fallen, and a kind of expectant hush pervaded the air. The man who stood -at the horse's head, looked round him with a very dissatisfied air, not -seeing the necessity for driving to Monkscleugh. - -However, the drive there was accomplished without any encounter, save -with a barefooted lassie on her way to market. At first Wilton drove -slowly, and then fast, and before they had reached the town the snow had -begun, in large, slow flakes. In spite of its increasing density, he -managed to call at the saddler's and the corn-factor's, and twice at -the railway-station, but all in vain; so, with a muttered malediction on -the weather, which had, no doubt, defeated the object of his expedition, -he turned his horse's head toward home. - -"It's going to be a bad fall," he said to his servant, as they proceeded -through the thickly-descending snow, which scarcely permitted them to -see a yard right or left. - -"It is so, sir; and I wish we were home, or, anyhow, across the brae -there, where the road turns to Brosedale." - -"Do you think we will lose the track?" - -"I'll be surprised if we do not, sir." - -"I fancy I shall be able to make it out," returned Wilton, and drove on -as rapidly as he could in silence. Suddenly he pulled up. "Look," said -he, "there--to the right. Do you not see something like a figure--a -woman?" - -"Faith, it's only a big stone, sir!" - -"No--it moves!--Hallo!" shouted Wilton. "I think you are off the road." - -The figure stopped, turned, and came toward them. Wilton immediately -sprang down and darted forward, exclaiming, "Miss Rivers! Good God! what -weather for you! How fortunate I overtook you.--Come, let me assist you -to reach my dog-cart. You must be nearly wet through." - -She put her hand on his offered arm. "It is indeed fortunate you came -up. I had begun to feel bewildered." Nevertheless she spoke quite -calmly, and accepted his aid to mount the dog-cart with perfect -composure. As Wilton took his place beside her and gathered up the -reins, after wrapping his plaid round her, he made up his mind very -rapidly not to attempt the longer and more open route to Brosedale. - -He drove more slowly, taking good heed of the objects he could make out, -and, to his great joy, recognized a certain stunted, gnarled oak, to the -right of which lay Glenraven, and, having passed it, somewhat increased -his speed. - -"It is scarcely wise to push on to Brosedale until this heavy fall is -over. Besides, the Lodge is much nearer, and you ought not to be a -moment longer than you can help in these wet clothes. I am afraid you -must depend on the resources of our cook for dry garments." - -"My clothes are not so very wet, but my boots are. I wish we could have -gone on to Brosedale; but, if it cannot be, I will not trouble you. This -snow is too heavy to last very long." - -"Pray Heaven it may!" said Wilton inwardly. - -Here was the first gleam of good fortune that had visited him. Ella was -to be all alone with him for two or three hours. Snow or no snow, he -would manage that, at all events. All the Brosedale women away, -Moncrief certain to be storm-stayed somewhere--what a glorious chance -for a long, confidential talk, for the solving of many doubts, for the -forging of some link that would bind this wild, free bird to him! The -excessive delight and exaltation that made his heart bound roused him to -the necessity of self-control, and he swore to himself that not a word -or a look should escape him to offend or startle his prize. - -"How was it you ventured out on so unpromising a morning?" he asked, as -they proceeded, stopping from time to time to make sure of the road. - -"Oh, Donald was so ravenous to get a parcel which he thought must be -mislaid at Monkscleugh, that I promised to go over for it; and you know -I love so much to be out. Still I do not think I should have attempted -it, only a Mr. Wilton, who was going somewhere in the phaeton, offered -to drive me to Monkscleugh. I thought it would snow, but I hoped to get -back before it began. However, I was overtaken; and I fancy I should -have wandered all day had you not found me." - -"I thought Wilton was going with Lady Fergusson to the _fête_ at -Brantwood?" - -"He was; but he was to take up some one on the way." - -"He is a relation of mine," said Wilton, feeling marvellously crossed -by the simple fact of St. George having discovered the hidden treasure -as well as himself. - -"I suppose so; but he is quite unlike you." - -It would be hard to say, logically, why this comforted Colonel Wilton, -but it did. - -"Hold hard, sir!" cried the groom, who was standing up and peering -ahead. "You will be right against the gate." And Wilton found he was at -home. Another moment and he pulled up at the door of the Lodge. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -"Send Mrs. McKollop here," cried Wilton, hastily and imperiously, to -Major Moncrief's servant, who advanced to the door. "One of the -Brosedale ladies has been caught in the snow, and is nearly wet -through." - -He almost lifted Ella from the dog-cart as he spoke, and led her into -the warm, comfortable hall. While he removed the plaid that wrapped his -guest, the astonished Mrs. McKollop came quickly on the scene. - -"Eh, my word! but ye're wet!" she exclaimed. "Come wi' me, missee, and -I'll see till ye; and you'd be the better of a drop of hot toddy -yerse'f, colonel." - -"Oh, I shall be all right! Just look to Miss Rivers.--As soon as you -have got rid of your wet things we will have luncheon," he added, -addressing her. She bowed, and followed the portly Mrs. McKollop. - -"I hope there is some place fit to take a lady into," said Wilton to -Major Moncrief's man, on whom the domestic arrangements devolved, for he -was barely acquainted with Mrs. McKollop's name. This important -functionary was attached to Glenraven Lodge, and let with the premises. -To this species of serfdom she was by no means averse, for the system -proved profitable, and, by a sort of mental inversion, she had grown to -regard the temporary proprietors as her guests and vassals. - -"Yes, sir, I believe Mrs. McKollop keeps the top rooms pretty tidy." - -"Well, get luncheon, will you? I hope the fire is good." So saying, -Wilton hastened to change his own damp clothes, and don a black velvet -shooting-jacket. His toilet was completed, and he was fully a quarter of -an hour in the dining-room before any one appeared. "Go and let Miss -Rivers know luncheon is ready." A few minutes more, and the door opened -to admit his guest. An expression of demure fun sparkled in her eyes as -she came in, holding up the voluminous drapery of Mrs. McKollop's best -dress--a strongly-pronounced Mac-something tartan, of bright red and -green and yellow--which was evidently a world too wide for her slight -waist. Above was the close-fitting gray jacket of her own dress, which -had been saved from wet by her water-proof. - -"I trust you have been made tolerably comfortable?" said Wilton, placing -a chair for her, while he glanced with much satisfaction at the -fast-falling snow. - -"Your house-keeper has been so good," she replied, with her sweetest, -frankest smile. "She exhausted all her resources to supply my wants, -and, I think, would fain have made me come to luncheon in her best -bonnet, which is the most wonderful thing you ever saw. It has feathers, -and flowers, and currants in it." - -"I suppose carrots and turnips would be too much like the insignia of -office. But you must be exhausted. Pray sit down and have some -luncheon." - -"Thank you. I do feel rather hungry." - -It seemed almost incredible to be sitting _tête-à-tête_ with Ella, after -all his dreams and efforts; but even more surprising was her quiet, -unembarrassed manner. Had Wilton been her grandfather, she could not -have eaten with more composure, and, it must be added, zest, showing a -decided preference for cold game and sweets. - -"Let me recommend some hot wine-and-water," said Wilton, as she put down -her knife and fork, after refusing a second supply of grouse. - -"Thank you, no. I never take wine; but, if I might ask for something?" - -"Certainly; anything within the resources of Glenraven and Mrs. -McKollop." - -"Then may I have a cup of coffee?" - -Wilton immediately ordered it; and, when it came, his guest expressed -high approval. - -"Ah! your people have learned how to make this in France." - -"From Frenchmen, at any rate. That was one accomplishment our servants -picked up." - -"The coffee at Brosedale is so dead; it is not the least like coffee! -This reminds me of Italy and France." - -"Then you have been a good deal abroad?" - -"Nearly all my life." A full stop; and Wilton felt he had led up neatly -to the story of her past. - -"As you will take nothing more, suppose we go into the next room?" She -rose, and then stopped. - -"Oh! I have lost Mrs. McKollop's shoe under the table." Wilton laughed, -and assisted in the search. - -"I wish we had anything nearer the mark to offer you," he said, as he -produced a huge, broad-soled thick shoe, tied on the instep. "They must -fit you like snow-shoes." - -"There is a good deal of stocking to fill up with," she replied, as she -managed to shuffle into the room on the opposite side of the hall, which -was somewhat more ornamental than the one they left. Sundry sporting -prints, a deer's head, various pipes, and plenty of writing-materials, -with a splendid fire, and several comfortable easy-chairs, made it a -pleasant apartment. - -"And you live here?" said Ella Rivers, moving round the room with some -curiosity; "and you smoke very good cigars. I recognize the perfume." - -"I hope it is not very disagreeable?" - -"Disagreeable? Oh, no! I love it. But how it snows! There is no chance -of my getting back till it abates." - -"Certainly not," returned Wilton, cheerfully, and adopting her easy, -friendly tone. "So, pray sit down near the fire, and permit me to enjoy -the fruit of my treasure-trove--I mean, a little talk with you." - -"Yes--it is very nice to talk over a good fire," she said, returning -slowly from the window and seating herself in a large chair; "but I wish -it would clear." - -"I suppose young Fergusson will be very anxious about you?" remarked -Wilton, taking advantage of her steady gaze at the fire to study the -graceful outline of her head, and ear, and neck, the pale, delicate oval -of her face. There was a wonderfully-patrician look about this -mysterious girl; how small and white were the hands she had carelessly -clasped upon her knee! and, simple as were her manners, too, they were -infinitely more refined than the superb Miss Saville's; and, at all -events, he would have her all to himself for the next two hours. - -"Anxious about me?" she said, after a moment's silence; "not very. He -will be anxious about his parcel (which, after all, I did not get), and -vexed at my absence. But Donald is a strange boy. I know him." - -"He must be an ungrateful young dog," said Wilton, carefully averting -his eyes as she turned to him. "You are so good to him." - -"It is not what you would call grateful, though he is very fond of -me--that is, I have become a necessity to him; then he knows I am fond -of him, and I believe no one else is, not even his father. Poor, poor -fellow! Ah, how I feel for him!" - -"He cannot be a pleasant companion." - -"At times most unpleasant; then, again, wonderfully sympathetic, and so -dependent that _I_ feel a great, strong, free creature, rich in youth, -and health, and strength, all grand things that Sir Peter's gold cannot -buy, and I can do anything for him. Then I forget the dark side of my -own lot, and only see the wealth that nature has given me." - -"You are, indeed, wealthy!" - -"In some ways, yes; in others--" She stopped, shook her head, with a -smile, half-sad, half-mocking, and resumed her gaze at the fire. - -There was a short pause, and Wilton said: - -"Still, to so bold a spirit as yours, it must be imprisonment, indeed; -and I am not surprised that you seize every chance of momentary relief. -But--forgive me if I am presumptuous--it was no ordinary courage that -would take you so far afield that night I caught a glimpse of you -retreating in the moonlight--no ordinary inducement that would tempt you -to such a distance." - -"I had inducement enough," she returned, with a slight sigh. "Donald had -been in one of his worst moods all day--one of his mean, suspicious -tempers, and I could not persuade him to go to bed till late. Then, I -opened the study window, and looked out to breathe and grow tranquil -before I tried to sleep then the memory of the moonlight nights long -ago, when I used to sit in a corner by the window, before the lamp was -brought, and listen to my father talking (rather dreaming aloud--oh, so -gloriously!) came over me with a wild, irresistible longing to be out in -the free air, alone and standing upright before heaven, with things -_really_ greater than myself about me--_such_ an intense longing that I -sprang down the steps and away." As she said the last word she unclasped -her hands and threw one out with a sudden, expressive gesture full of -grace, and not without a certain dignity. "But I suppose to you it seems -shocking?" And again she turned to the fire. - -"By no means!" exclaimed Wilton, eagerly. "Pray do not imagine me a -slave to 'the shocking.' What you do seems right and natural in you to -an extraordinary degree; but every one may not view matters as I do, and -I confess I wished to escort you back, but dared not intrude--besides, I -was not alone." - -"Escort me back!" she replied, with a low, sweet laugh of genuine -merriment. "That would have put a climax to my misdoings, and also -(pardon the rudeness) destroyed the sense of freedom. As it was, my -outbreak was severely rebuked by Miss Walker, who was informed of my -absence, and talked yards of sense and propriety before I escaped to -bed. Ah, what a degrading _finale_ to a moment's outbreak into light and -liberty! But I must not quarrel with Miss Walker. She is 'Madonna dell' -Esperanza.'" - -There was a wonderful charm in her voice and manner, a curious mixture -of softness and daring. - -"And pray why do you dignify that iron-gray woman with so romantic a -title? I should not imagine her in the least hopeful." - -"She found me when I was at a very low ebb, and placed me with Donald." - -"Indeed! Then he ought to consider her his 'Dame de bon Secours.'" - -"He thinks I am fortunate." - -"And, when you found yourself so far from human aid that night, did you -not feel uncomfortable?" resumed Wilton, hoping to lead her back to her -reminiscences. - -"Yes. When I turned to go back the fire had nearly burnt out in my -heart; but, you see, I have never been with women, so their fears are -not mine. I fear what they may think of me when I act differently from -them." - -"I suppose, then, you have numerous brothers?" - -"I have neither brother nor sister. My father--" She paused. "Ah, if you -could have known my father! He was a great politician, a great -philanthropist, a true man; and he was surrounded by men like himself, -devoted to humanity. They were all very good to me--when they remembered -my existence, which was not always, you know." A little arch smile, that -made Wilton burn to tell her how irresistibly she absorbed his mind, -heart, imagination! - -"Well, your father," said he, with wonderful composure, rising as he -spoke to arrange the fire--"your father, I presume, adored you?" - -"Alas, no!" There was great forgiving tenderness in her voice. "He -perhaps remembered me least of all; and when he did, I brought bitter -thoughts. My mother, whom he adored, died when I was born; so you see I -have been quite alone. Yet I grew to be of importance to him; for just -before he died he told me to take her ring, which he had always worn, -and wear it for both their sakes. See, there it is." - -She held out her right hand to show where it encircled her slender third -finger. - -"Then you lived in Italy?" said Wilton, to lead her on. - -"Yes, my first memories are of Italy--a great, half-ruined villa on a -hill-side near Genoa; and my nurse, a Roman woman, with such grand, -black eyes. I used to love to look into them, and see myself in them. -How she loved me and spoiled me! My father must have had money then, for -he came and went, and seemed to me a great person; but I feared him, -though he was gentle and beautiful, for he shunned me. Oh, yes, how -noble he looked! None of the others were like him; and he was English on -his father's side, so he said, when he told me to keep the name of -Rivers; but we had many names: one in Italy, another in Paris, another -in Germany. I did not like Paris. The first time we were there I had a -_gouvernante_; she taught me a little and tormented me much; but still I -do know French best. I can write it well; but, though I speak Italian -and German, I cannot read or write either." - -She had again clasped her hands over her knee, and went on softly and -dreamingly, as if to herself. Wilton still keeping silence, and gazing -intently at the speaker, earnestly hoping nothing would interrupt or -turn her from her spoken musing. - -"But you evidently learned to draw," he suggested, softly. - -"My father was a great artist--would have been acknowledged as a great -artist had he not been gradually absorbed in schemes for raising the -poor and ignorant and oppressed, for giving them political life. There -were many artists among our friends, and all were willing to teach me -and help me. To draw seemed to me as natural as to breathe, and if I -ever had a moment of personal ambition it was to be a true, a recognized -artist; but I had scarcely any. You, even you, patrician Englishman as -you are!" turning to him with sudden animation, "you would have admired -my father. He was my ideal of a true knight, so simple, so noble, so -refined; with such a deep, fervent faith in his fellow-men. Of course, -he and all our friends were hunted, proscribed; so I never knew a -relation. And he, my father, never could bear to speak of my mother; so -I only know from her picture that she was fair and sweet-looking." - -"What a strange, sad life for a girl!" said Wilton, with genuine -sympathy. - -"Strange, but not sad. Oh, no! I was ignorant (I am ignorant, by your -standard), and not a little neglected. But what delight it was to listen -to the men my father knew, to hear the grand schemes they planned; the -noble, tender pity for the suffering and oppressed; the real brotherhood -they acknowledged to all mankind, and the zest of danger; for often a -well-loved comrade was missing, and some never returned. Imprisonment in -Italy or Prussia for a political offence is a serious matter. - -"The first time I ever won real notice from my father was at Naples. -There was a man we loved much; he was called Diego--it was not his real -name. He was very much suspected by the government. My father found out -he was to be seized that day, and he knew not whom to trust to send him -word; so I begged to be honored by his permission to carry the message, -and I managed it all. I borrowed a costume from my maid's niece; I went -alone on the Corso, and offered bunches of violets to every one--oh! I -had heaps of _paoli_--till I met him and said the word, which sufficed." - -"You did this?" cried Wilton. - -"Yes; I had but thirteen years then. Oh! my father always noticed me -after; and I would have dared much for that. Then we were in London, and -in many places--we grew poorer and poorer. I think my father helped the -cause largely. Two years ago we were in Paris, and then I saw my father -was dying. There were very few of our clique there, for the emperor's -spies were legion. I did not stop to think of fear or grief; I only -wanted to keep him quiet and content to the last, for, you see"--with a -sort of exultation very touching--"I was now very important to him--he -thought more of me, and I have always believed it was in the hope of -arranging some shelter, some refuge, for me that he came to London, now -more than two years ago. Diego came to see us. He had a long talk with -my father, who said to him, when he was going, 'Do your best for her -sake!' - -"Two days after, Diego came again, and demanded to see my father alone. -Presently there was a cry; they called me, and, when I went in, my -father lay in Diego's arms, the blood streaming from his mouth. He died -two days after." An instant's pause, and she resumed, quickly: "I was -quite alone, and had but a few shillings. Poor Diego, how good he was! -He did much for me. My father had a diamond ring; they sold it, and so -things were paid for. Diego, poor fellow! he was rich then--he had five -gold-pieces--sovereigns. He left me two. He was obliged to go away; he -promised Mrs. Kershaw to come back for me, but he never came. He is no -doubt imprisoned or killed." - -"Who was Mrs. Kershaw?" asked Wilton, huskily; "and how old is this -Diego?" - -"Diego? Oh, fifty--sixty--I am not sure. Mrs. Kershaw is the landlady of -the lodgings where my father died. Such a strange woman! Not unkind--at -all events, to me. There was a lady in the rooms above ours who was very -kind to me, and felt for me; and nearly five months after I was left -quite alone. Miss Walker came to stay with this lady, and so they -managed to have me engaged as companion to Donald. Ah, it was all so -wretched! Nothing reconciled me to Brosedale but the scenery--that made -me remember there was a world of life and beauty beyond Donald's study." - -She stopped, and leaning back, pressed both hands over her face, as if -to shut out the present. Wilton scarce knew how to speak to her without -saying too much. He had sufficiently delicate instincts to feel that he -must not, when she was in such a mood, show, by the slightest -indication, that he was her lover; nay, his deep sympathy made him for -the moment forget the fair woman in the lonely, suffering girl. - -"And had none of your father's friends a wife or a sister with whom you -might have taken shelter? Brosedale, under such circumstances, must have -been a real _inferno_." - -"No; I have met one or two ladies abroad connected with our cause, and -they were far away. But Brosedale was more astonishing than anything -else. Miss Walker, who likes me, although I shock her every hour in the -day, warned me of the respect I must show to 'miladi' and her daughters, -and I never dreamed of disrespect toward them; but they were--they are -so strange; they are so ignorant; they belong to the middle ages. When I -spoke to them of the scenery, when I asked them questions about their -country, when I addressed them as my fellow creatures, they were -petrified--they were indignant; they went through a little comedy of -insulted majesty, very droll, but not pleasant. Then I began to know -what it is to believe that you are made of different clay from certain -others of your fellows. Alas! what wide gulfs still yawn between man and -man, and what precious things must be cast in before they are filled -up!" - -"Well, and Donald--how did you get on with Donald?" - -"He was inclined to treat me like a petted animal; but, no! _Per -Baccho!_ that should not be. I said, 'If you are good, you shall call me -Ella, and I will call you Donald.' He replied, 'I am Master Fergusson;' -and I said, 'Not so--it is too long. Besides, I am your superior in age -and in knowledge, so between us there shall be kindness and freedom.' -Now I mark my displeasure by calling him Master Fergusson. Ah! how -astonished were Miss Walker and 'miladi,' but I laughed." - -"I am surprised he can bear you out of his sight," exclaimed Wilton, -warmly, and checked himself; but she only noticed his words. - -"He does not like me to be away. I am often imprisoned for weeks. Last -August I grew weak and languid; so Lady Fergusson gave me a holiday. I -had nowhere to go but to Mrs. Kershaw's; then she was taken ill--a bad -fever--so I nursed her, thankful to be of use. Then Donald summoned me -back, and"--turning with the peculiar air of gracious acknowledgment -which Wilton had before noticed, she added--"it was on my journey back I -met you. Oh, how weary I was! I had been awake night after night. I was -stupefied with fatigue, and you were so good. Could Death then have come -to me in sleep, I should have held out my arms to him. Yet you see I was -terrified at the idea of being hurt or torn when the train was overset." - -"You behaved like--like an angel, or rather like a true, high-souled -woman." - -She laughed softly, and rising, attempted to walk to the window. - -"Ah!" she exclaimed, "I forgot my shoes;" then, resuming her seat, went -on: "There, I have told you all my life. Why, I cannot say; but, if I -have wearied you, it is your own fault. You listened as if you cared to -hear, while to me it has been sad, yet sweet, to recall the past, to -talk of my father to one who will not mock at his opinions--his dreams, -if you will. But, ah! what dreams! what hopes! Thank God! he lived to -know of Garibaldi's triumph--to see the papal throne tremble at the -upheaval of Italy! These glimpses of light gladdened him at the last; -for never was Christian martyr upheld by faith in a future world more -steadfastly than my father by his belief in the political regeneration -of this one. Yet I have, perhaps, forgotten myself in speaking so much." - -She turned toward Wilton as she spoke, and, placing her elbow on the arm -of the chair, rested her chin in the palm of her hand, looking at him -with the large, deep-blue eyes which had so struck him at first, her -long lashes wet with tear drops, of which she was unconscious. - -"At least," said Wilton, "you must feel that no speaker ever riveted -attention more than you have. As for the accuracy of the opinions so -disinterestedly upheld, I neither combat nor assent to them. I can only -think of you--so young, so alone?" - -It is impossible to say how much passionate sympathy he was about to -express, when a sudden change in Ella Rivers's face made him stop and -turn round. To his infinite annoyance there stood Major Moncrief, with -the door in his hand, and an expression of utter blank astonishment on -his countenance, his coat covered with fast-melting snow, and evidently -just dismounted. - -"Hallo, Moncrief!" cried Wilton, his every-day, sharp senses recalled in -a moment by this sudden, unwelcome apparition. "Wet to the skin, I -suppose, like Miss Rivers"--a wave of the hand toward her--"and myself. -I most fortunately overtook her half-way from Monkscleugh, and brought -her here for shelter." - -"Oh!" ejaculated Moncrief: it sounded like a groan. - -"You have met my chum, Major Moncrief, have you not, Miss Rivers?" - -She shook her head. "You know I am always with Donald." - -"Oh, ah, I see!" muttered Moncrief. "No, I have never had the pleasure -of meeting the young lady before; and so, Wilton, I will not interrupt -you. I will go and change my clothes." - -"Interrupt!" said Ella, as he left the room. "What does he mean by -interrupt? Who is he?--your uncle--your guardian?" - -"Do you think I require a guardian at my age?" replied Wilton, laughing, -though greatly annoyed at Moncrief's tone. - -"How old are you?" asked Ella, but so softly and simply that the -question did not seem rude. - -"Almost four and thirty; and, _en revanche_, how old are you?" - -"Almost twenty." - -"I should not have thought you so much: yet there are times you look -more. However, Moncrief is an old brother-officer of mine; really a -friend, but a queer fellow, a little odd." - -"I see; and I do not think he likes me to be here. Can I not go?" said -Ella, starting up and making her way to the window, although she left a -shoe behind her in her progress. - -"Not like you! More probably fascinated at first sight," returned -Wilton, attempting to laugh off the impression she had received, though -feeling terribly annoyed at Moncrief's manifestation. "And, as to -returning, you cannot stir just yet; the snow has only just cleared off -and may recommence." - -"Still I should so much like to return; and I am sure I could manage to -walk very well." - -"I do not wish to be oppressively hospitable, so I will leave you for a -moment to inquire what will be the best mode of reaching Brosedale." - -So saying, he quitted the room and followed Major Moncrief. - -He found that excellent soldier in his dressing-gown, and wearing a -more "gruesome" expression than could be accounted for by his -occupation, viz., sipping some scalding-hot whiskey-and-water. - -"Have you had anything to eat?" asked Wilton, amiably. "I believe -luncheon is still on the table." - -"No, it is not," replied the major, curtly; "and I do not want anything. -I had a crust of bread and cheese at that farmer's below the mill, so -you can go back to your charming guest." - -"And you must come with me, Moncrief. Never mind the dressing-gown, man; -it is quite becoming. You frightened Miss Rivers, you looked so 'dour' -just now. I want her to see what a pleasant fellow you can be." - -"Thank you; I am not quite such a muff as to spoil a _tête-à-tête_." - -"Come, Moncrief, you know that is bosh. I overtook Miss Rivers as she -was struggling through the snow, and I do not suppose you or any other -man would have left her behind. Then I couldn't possibly pass my own -gate in such a storm; besides, the poor girl was so wet. Be that as it -may, you shall not be uncivil; so finish your grog, and come along." - -"Let me put on my coat. If I am to play propriety, I must dress -accordingly. How in the name of Fortune did you come to know this Miss -Rivers?" growled Moncrief. - -"Why, at Brosedale, of course. Whenever they dragged me in to see that -poor boy she was there, and one can't be uncivil to a woman, and a -pretty girl to boot." - -"Pretty!" ejaculated the major, thrusting himself with unnecessary -vehemence into his coat. "I did not see much prettiness about her; she -has big eyes, that's all." - -"Come and have another look then, and perhaps you will find it out," -said Wilton, pleasantly, as sorely against his will Moncrief followed -him down stairs. - -"I have much pleasure in introducing two such admirable representatives -of two great opposing systems. Major Moncrief is conservative among -conservatives; Miss Rivers revolutionary among democrats!" said Wilton. - -"You say so for me; I myself scarce know enough to be anything," she -replied, in a low tone, turning from the window at which she was -standing when they entered, acknowledging the introduction and -Moncrief's "boo," as he would have called it, by a slight, haughty -courtesy, which even Mrs. McKollop's plaid dress did not spoil, as she -spoke. - -"A young lady confessing ignorance on any subject is a _rara avis_ -nowadays," returned Moncrief, gloomily. - -Ella Rivers looked earnestly at him as he spoke, and then glanced, with -a sort of mute appeal, to Wilton, who felt instinctively that, in spite -of her composed, brave air, her heart was beating with sorrowful -indignation at the major's unfriendly aspect. - -"You must know, Miss Rivers," said Wilton, with his pleasantest smile, -longing all the time to fall upon and thrash desperately his good friend -and comrade--"you must know that my friend Moncrief is the gloomy -ascetic of the regiment, always available for the skeleton's part at the -feast, that is, the mess, a terror to lively subs, and only cheerful -when some one in a terrible scrape requires his help to get out of it; -but one grows accustomed even to a skeleton. I have been shut up with -him for nearly six weeks, and, you see, I have not committed suicide -yet; but he is a first-rate old Bones after all!" (slapping the ungenial -major on the shoulder). - -"Is he really unhappy?" asked Ella, with such genuine wonder and -curiosity that the "dour" major yielded to the irresistible influences, -and burst into a gracious laugh, in which Wilton joined, and the cloud -which Moncrief brought with him was almost dispersed--not quite, for -Ella was changed pale, composed, silent, with an evidently unconscious -drawing to Wilton's side, that did not help to steady his pulse or cool -his brain. - -"It is quite clear," said Miss Rivers, anxiously; "may I not return? -for in another hour night will close. I must go!" - -"Certainly!" cried Wilton, who was feeling dreadfully bored by the -flagging conversation and general restraint of Moncrief's presence; -"your dress will be dry by this time, and while you put it on I will -order the dog-cart. I will drive you over to Brosedale in half an hour, -snow or no snow." - -"You--drive me--oh, no! I can walk quite well; I am not the least -afraid. Do not come out again." - -"My dear Miss Rivers! allow you to walk alone? Impossible! Even this -stern Bones, this incarnation of inexorable Fate, would not demand such -a sacrifice.--Moncrief, ring the bell; summon Mrs. McKollop from the -vasty deep to attend our fair guest.--You must know, Miss Rivers, my -brother-in-arms is part proprietor of this sylvan lodge." - -"Then will he forgive my intrusion," said their guest, with an air so -deprecating as to a man of his age, so certainly dignified as to -herself, yet so simple withal, that the hidden spring of chivalry far -down in the man's nature was struck and pushed to the surface all the -more strongly for the depth of the boring. - -"You must think me 'a skeleton of the feast,' indeed, as Wilton has been -good enough to describe me, if I were not ready to welcome the chance -visit of a charming young lady; I am not quite so hopeless an old -'Bones' as you both make out." - -"Bravo!" cried Wilton, highly pleased at his change of tone. - -"Thank you!" said Miss Rivers, simply; and then the door opened to admit -Mrs. McKollop, who wore upon her arm a mass of drapery, and in her hand -a very small pair of boots, evidently the garments she had been drying. - -"They are all nice an' weel aired, if you be going," said the benign -ruler of the roost. "It's a wee bit clear just noo, but I'm thinking the -frost is coming on, so the snaw will be harder by-an'-by; an' if the -major don't mind having dinner an hour before his usual time, a drap o' -hare soup and a cut out of a loin o' mountain mutton will warm ye up -weel, an' mak' ye ready for the road," or, as she pronounced it, "rod." - -"Mrs. M'Kollop, you are a most sensible woman," said Wilton, gravely. -Moncrief looked alarmed; and Miss Rivers merely observed, "I will come -with you," and left the room, accompanied by the friendly cook. Wilton -followed immediately, to give orders about the dog-cart, and Major -Moncrief was left alone. He walked once or twice up and down the room -with a troubled and irate expression; he then stirred the fire -viciously, threw down the poker with a clang, and, drawing a chair close -up, thrust his feet almost against the bars. How long he sat in gloomy -reverie he knew not, but he was roused by the entrance of Wilton, who -ushered in their guest, saying, "Miss Rivers wants to say good-by, -Moncrief." - -"Yes, good-by!" said she, in her soft yet clear voice, which always -seemed to fix attention. "Thank you--thank you both for your kind -hospitality." - -With a slight, touching hesitation she held out her hand, and Moncrief -took it with much politeness and an altered expression. - -"Good-by, then, as you will not stay for the hare soup and a cut of the -mountain mutton. I hope you will not take cold. Have you nothing to put -round your throat? You must have this muffler of mine, if you will -condescend to wear it.--Jump up, Wilton. I will help Miss Rivers." - -So spoke the Major, in his joy to speed the parting guest. Wilton -obeyed, somewhat amused, and they started. But the drive was a silent -one on Miss Rivers's side; all Wilton's dexterous observations and -thoughtful care could not win a look--scarce a word. "Does she regret -she opened her heart to me?" he thought; and, as they neared the great -house, he could not refrain from saying, "I shall often think of the -interesting sketch you have given me of your wanderings in many lands, -Miss Rivers, though I shall only speak of them to yourself." - -"Pray, pray, put it all out of your mind! I am half ashamed of having -talked so much of myself. Think no more of it." - -"Suppose the subject will not be banished? I cannot. At least," resumed -Wilton, after a moment's pause to tighten the reins of his self-control, -"I shall look upon liberal politics with a new light, after the glimpse -you have given me of their inner life." - -"If, when you have power, you will think of the people, I am not sorry I -spoke." She said it very softly, almost sadly. - -"I shall look in to-morrow, to know if you are all right," he replied. - -They had now reached the entrance. Wilton sprang down, and, as Miss -Rivers was muffled in plaids, nearly lifted her from the carriage, -though with all the deference he would have shown a princess. - -"Good-by! I hope you will not be the worse." - -"Adieu!" For a moment she raised her eyes to his with a frank, kind -glance, and vanished into the house. - -For a moment Wilton hesitated, then mounted the dog-cart, and drove back -as fast as circumstances would allow. He was conscious of an angry, -uncomfortable sensation toward Moncrief--a feeling that it would be a -great relief to avoid dining with him--of a curious, uneasy strain of -dissatisfaction with himself--with the routine of life--with -everything! It was so infernally stupid, smoking and reading, or -listening to Moncrief's prosings, all the evening; while that cranky, -tiresome boy, Fergusson, would be talked to, and soothed, and petted by -Ella Rivers. And she--would she wish to be back at Glenraven, telling -the story of her simple yet stirring life to an absorbed listener? Yes, -without a shadow of conceit he might certainly conclude that she would -prefer an intelligent companion like himself to that cross-grained boy; -but he had very little to nourish conceit upon in the recollection of -the delightful _tête-â-tête_ he had enjoyed. Never before had he met a -woman so free from the indescribable consciousness by which the gentler -sex acknowledge the presence of the stranger. She must have been much in -the society of men, and of men, too, who were not lovers. Yet stop! How -much of her composure and frankness was due to the fact of her being -already wooed and promised to one of those confounded _carbonari_ -fellows? The very idea made Wilton double-thong his leader--for tandem -stages had been thought necessary--to the infinite surprise of his -servant. However, he reached his destination at last, and as he threw -off his plaid in the hall Mrs. McKollop's broad and beaming face -appeared at a side-door. - -"Aweel, sir, din ye win ower a' right to Brosedale wi' the young leddy? -I've been aye watching the weather; for I don't think she is just that -strong. Eh, sir! but she is a bonnie bird--sae saft and kind! When she -was going, after I had red up her things for her, she says, 'If you are -as good a cook as you are a ladies' maid, I am sure Major Moncrief must -be pleased with his dinners,' says she; an' wi' that she takes this -neckerchief from her pretty white throat, and says she, so gentle and so -grand, 'Wear this for me, Mrs. McKollop,' putting it round my neck her -ainsel'. 'Think, whenever ye put it on,' says she, 'that I shall always -remember your motherly care.' The bonnie bird! I'm thinking she has nae -mither, or they wouldn't let her be worrit wi' that ill-faured, -ill-tempered bairn at Brosedale." - -"I left Miss Rivers quite safe, I assure you, and, as far as I could -observe, quite well, at the door," said Wilton, who had listened with -much attention to this long speech, looking all the time at the pretty -violet necktie held up in triumph by Mrs. McKollop, and conscious of a -boyish but strong inclination to purchase it, even at a high premium, -from the worthy house-keeper. "I am sure you did your best for our -charming visitor." - -"That I did; an' I tauld her that it was a pleasure to cook for the -colonel; for though she spoke of the major, it was aye _you_ she thocht -on." - -"Oh, nonsense!" returned Wilton, good-humoredly, and he left the -eloquent Mrs. McKollop, to join the moody Moncrief, with whom he -exchanged but few remarks, till dinner thawed them. The evening passed -much as usual, but neither mentioned their guest--a fact by no means -indicating that she was forgotten by either. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -Wilton was true to his intention, and rode over the next day to make the -promised inquiry, when he had the pleasure of spending half an hour with -Donald, but Ella Rivers never appeared. The boy was in one of his better -moods, although that was a poor consolation. - -"I thought Ella was never coming back yesterday," he said, in his -plaintive, querulous voice. "I could not make out whether she had been -lost in the snow, or whether your cousin, that Mr. St. George Wilton, -had run away with her. Oh! I had such a miserable day!--Miss Walker -fussing in and out, and no one able to do anything for me! Where did you -pick up Ella?" - -"On that piece of common half-way to Monkscleugh; and it is very -fortunate I did so, or perhaps you might have been obliged to do without -her for some time longer. I fear she would have lost her way -altogether." - -"Oh, she knows the country, and has plenty of pluck." - -"Still, she might have been wandering about for hours, and I fancy she -is not over strong." - -"She is well enough! Every one is well enough but me!" - -"I suppose," said Wilton, to change the subject, "the rest of your party -return to-morrow?" - -"I am afraid they do! I wish they would stay away! They have taken me up -disgustingly since _you_ came to see me. I was much happier alone with -Ella! I don't mind _your_ coming--you are not a humbug; but I hate -Helen, she is so insolent; and that cousin of yours is detestable. He is -so conceited--so ready to make allowance for everyone. And then he -always speaks Italian to Ella, and worries her; I know he does, though -she will not tell me what he says." - -The boy's words struck an extraordinary pang to Wilton's heart. Had Ella -met this diplomatic sprig in Italy? Had he the enormous advantage of -having known her and her father in their old free wandering days? If so, -why had she not mentioned him? The irrepressible answer to this sprang -up with the query--whatever her antecedents, Ella spoke out of the -depths of a true soul. - -"Well," exclaimed Wilton, while these thoughts revolved themselves, "if -you do not like him, do not let him come in here. But I thought he was -a universal genius, and an utterly fascinating fellow!" - -"The women think so," returned young Fergusson, with an air of superior -wisdom, "but I think him a nuisance. Will you ring the bell, Colonel -Wilton?" - -"What has become of Miss Rivers?" to the servant, who quickly appeared. -"Tell her to come here." - -Though disposed to quarrel with the terms of the message, Wilton awaited -the result with some anxiety. The reply was, "Miss Walker's compliments; -Miss Rivers was hearing Miss Isabel read Italian, and she could not come -just yet." - -"It is infamous!" exclaimed Donald, working himself into a fury. "They -all take her from me--they don't care what becomes of me! Give me my -crutches, James. I will go to the school-room myself; so I shall say -good-by to you, Colonel." - -He dragged himself out of the room with surprising rapidity, and Wilton -felt he must not stay. - -The rest of the day was rendered restless and uncomfortable by Donald's -words. But Wilton, though of a passionate and eager nature, had also a -strong will, and was too reasonable not to determine resolutely to -banish the tyrannic idea which had taken such possession of his heart or -imagination. He noticed, with mingled resentment and amusement, the -sudden silence and reserve of his friend Moncrief on the subject of -Brosedale and its inhabitants. What an absurd, strait-laced old Puritan -he was growing! Wilton felt it would be a relief when he departed to pay -his promised visit in the South. So, as the weather, after the memorable -snow-storm, moderated, and proved favorable for sport, hunting and -shooting were resumed with redoubled vigor, and the Major's solemn looks -gradually cleared up. - -"I shall be rather in the blues here when you are gone," said Wilton, as -they sat together the evening before the Major was to leave. "You have -not been the liveliest companion in the world of late, still I shall -miss you, old boy." - -The Major gave an inarticulate grunt, without removing his cigar from -his lips. - -"So," continued Wilton, "as Lord D---- asks me over to dine and stay a -few days while General Loftus and another Crimean man are there, I shall -go; and perhaps I may look up the 15th afterwards; they are quartered at -C----." - -"Do!" said the Major, emphatically, and with unusual animation. "There's -nothing more mischievous than moping along and getting into the blue -devils!--nothing more likely to drive a man to suicide or matrimony, or -some infernal entanglement even worse! Go over to D---- Castle by all -means--go and have a jolly week or two with the 15th; and, if you will -take my advice, do not return here." - -"My dear Moncrief," interrupted Wilton coolly, for he was a little -nettled at the rapid disposal of his time, "why should I not return -here? What mischief do you fear for me? Don't turn enigmatical at this -time of day." - -"What mischief do I fear? The worst of all--a _fair_ piece of mischief! -Not so pretty, perhaps, but 'devilish atthractive,' as poor O'Connor -used to say." - -Wilton was silent a moment, to keep his temper quiet. He felt -unspeakably annoyed. Anything less direct he could have laughed off or -put aside, but to touch upon such a subject in earnest galled him to the -quick. To be suspected of any serious feeling toward Ella necessitated -either appearing an idiot in the eyes of a man like Moncrief--an idiot -capable of throwing away his future for the sake of a freak of -passion--or as entertaining designs more suited to worldly wisdom, yet -which it maddened him to think any man dared to associate with a -creature that somehow or other had managed to establish herself upon a -pedestal, such as no other woman had ever occupied, in his imagination. - -"I think," said he at last--and Moncrief was struck by the stern -resentment in his tone--"I think that too much shooting has made you -mad! What, in the name of Heaven, are you talking of? Do you think I am -the same unlicked cub you took in hand twelve or fourteen years ago? If -you and I are to be friends, let me find my own road through the jungle -of life." - -"All right," said the Major, philosophically. "Go your own way. I wash -my hands of you." - -"It is your best plan," returned Wilton, dryly; and the evening passed -rather heavily. - -The next morning Major Moncrief took leave of his friend. They parted -with perfect cordiality, and Wilton drove him over to Monkscleugh. - -It is by no means clear that the Major's well-meant warning did the -least good. The vexation it caused helped to keep the subject working in -Wilton's mind. Certain it was, that after returning from Monkscleugh and -writing two or three letters, he took advantage of a fine wintry -afternoon to stroll leisurely to the brae before mentioned, and beyond -it, to the piece of border ground between the Brosedale plantations and -the road, where he had held his horse for Ella Rivers to sketch; but all -was silent and deserted, so he returned to dress and drive over to D---- -Castle. - -It was a pleasant party, and Wilton was a most agreeable addition. He -felt at home and at ease with the Earl's kindly, well-bred daughters; -and perhaps they would have been a little surprised, could they have -read his thoughts, to find that he classed them as unaffected -gentlewomen almost equal to the humble companion of Sir Peter -Fergusson's crippled boy. - -Parties like this, of which Ralph Wilton formed one, are so much alike -that it is unnecessary to describe the routine. The third day of his -visit the Brosedale family came to dinner, and with them St. George -Wilton. Notwithstanding Sir Peter's wealth and Lady Fergusson's fashion, -invitations to D---- Castle were few and far between; nor did Ralph -Wilton's position as a visitor in the house--a favored, honored -guest--seem of small importance in Helen Saville's eyes. - -Wilton took her down to dinner, with a sort of friendly glow pervading -his manner, well calculated to deceive the object of his attentions. He -was dimly aware that, after all his reasoning, all his struggles for -self-control, his dominant idea was that if Miss Saville was not the -rose, she lived with her. - -"I have never seen you since the coming of age at Brantwood; you have -been out when I called, and in when I rode about in search of you--in -short, you have scarce cast me a crumb of notice since my polyglot -cousin has taken up the running and left me nowhere," said Wilton, under -the general buzz of talk, while the chief butler whispered a -confidential query as to whether he would have hock or champagne. - -"If you will not come in search of the crumbs, you cannot expect to get -them," said Miss Saville, looking boldly into his eyes with a smile. -"Mamma asked you to dinner the day after our return, but in vain." - -"Ah! that day I knew we were to hunt with the ----, and I feared I -should not be able to reach Brosedale in time for dinner. Now, tell me, -how is everyone? Your sister--I mean the school-room one--I see my -opposite neighbor is flourishing. How is young Fergusson?" - -"Isabel has a cold; but Donald has been wonderfully well. I think we -cheer him up! Benevolence seems to run in your family, Colonel Wilton. -You set the example, and Mr. St. George Wilton followed it up. Now, we -are so anxious to amuse Donald that we congregate on wet, stormy -mornings or afternoons in his room, and try to draw--are fearfully -snubbed by the young heir! and silently endured by his little companion, -who is such a strange girl! By the way your cousin seems to have known -some of her clique abroad. He says they were a dreadful set of -communists and freethinkers." - -"Indeed," he returned carelessly, as he raised his glass to his lips and -made a mental note of the information. "And, pray, how much longer do -you intend to foster my delightful relative in the genial warmth of -Brosedale?" - -"As long as he likes to stay; but he talks of leaving next week." - -"Ah! he finds it difficult to tear himself away?" - -"That I know nothing about. How long do you remain here?" - -"Till the day after to-morrow." - -"Then you had better dine with us on the twentieth. I know mamma intends -to ask you. The Brantwood party are to be with us, and some people we -met at Scarborough last autumn." - -"Of course I shall be most happy." - -Now there was nothing Wilton hated more than dining at Brosedale; the -artificial tone of the house was detestable, and he was always -tantalized by knowing that although under the same roof with Ella, he -had not the least chance of seeing her; nevertheless, he was impelled to -go by a vague, unreasonable hope that some chance might bring about a -meeting; and now as he had absolutely written to his old friends of the -15th to say he would be with them the ensuing week, he felt ravenously -eager to encounter the very danger from which he had determined to fly. -But Helen Saville's hint had filled him with curiosity and uneasiness. -It was as he feared. St. George Wilton and Ella Rivers had doubtless -many experiences in common which both might prefer talking about in a -tongue unfamiliar to the rest of the audience, for he did not, of -course, attach any value to Donald's remark that Ella did not like the -clever _attaché_. Why should she not like him? He looked across the -table and studied his kinsman's face very carefully while Ellen Saville -told him of a run she had enjoyed with the ----shire hounds while -staying at Brantwood. - -St. George Wilton was occupied in the agreeable task of entertaining -Lady Mary Mowbray, so his cousin could observe him with impunity. He was -a slight, delicate-looking man, with high, aristocratic features, pale, -with fair hair and light eyes, thin-lipped, and nominally near-sighted, -which entitled him to use a glass. He wore the neatest possible -moustaches and imperial, and when he smiled, which was not often (though -his face was always set in an amiable key), he showed a row of very -regular white teeth, but rather too pointed withal, especially the -molars, which were slightly longer than the rest, and gave a somewhat -wolfish, fang-like expression to that otherwise bland performance. His -voice was carefully modulated, his accent refined, and his ease of -manner the perfection of art. St. George Wilton, an ambitious poor -gentleman, determined to push his way upwards and onwards, had no doubt -sufficient experience to sharpen and harden his faculties. The struggle -of such a career ought to be, and is invigorating; but there are -ingredients which turn this tonic to poison--the greed for wealth and -rank, the hunger for self-indulgence and distinction, the -carefully-hidden envy that attributes the success of others to mere -good-luck, and curses blind fortune while congratulating the competitor -who has shot ahead--the gradually increasing tendency to regard all -fellow creatures as stepping stones or obstacles--the ever-growing, -devouring self which, after rejecting every joy that gladdens by -reciprocity, slowly starves to death in the Sahara of its own creation. - -Although the cousins had seldom met before, they had heard of each -other, forming their respective estimates from their special -standpoints--St. George heartily despising Ralph, as a mere stupid, -honest, pig-headed soldier, whose luck in coming somewhat to the front -was a disgrace even to the whims of that feminine deity, Fortune. How -such rapid promotion could be brought about without finesse, without -tact, without anything more extraordinary than simple duty doing, was -beyond the peculiar construction of St. George's mind to conceive. While -Ralph scarcely bestowed any consideration whatever on his kinsman--he -had heard of him as a clever, rising man, and also as a "keen hand;" but -now he had acquired a sudden importance; and Ralph, as he gazed at the -bland countenance opposite, and traced the hard lines under its set -expression, laughed inwardly at the notion of extracting any information -which St. George was disinclined to give. - -Nevertheless, when they joined the ladies, Wilton approached his cousin, -and opened the conversation by inquiring for a mutual acquaintance, one -of St. George's brother _attachés_; this naturally led to other topics, -and their talk flowed easily enough. "I am told you were received by our -eccentric relative, Lord St. George," said his namesake, at last; -"rather an unusual event for him to see any one, I believe?" - -"Yes; he sent for me, or I should never have thought of presenting -myself. He looks very old and worn--and not particularly amiable." - -"Well, he has had enough to sour him. How did he receive you?" - -"With tolerable civility." - -"He would not let me in! I wonder what he will do with all his property. -If he dies intestate, I suppose you will inherit everything?" - -"I suppose so; but I strongly suspect he will not leave me a _sou_. I am -not pliant enough; and that unfortunate daughter of his may have left -children to inherit, after all. I fancy I heard she was dead." - -"So have I," said St. George. "Who did she marry?" - -"I believe a Spaniard--an adventurer, with fine eyes and a splendid -voice; I forget the name. Old Colonel du Cane, who was about town in -those days, remembers the affair and the scandal, but the whole thing is -forgotten now. I wonder old St. George did not marry and cut out every -one." - -"Unless he makes a very distinct will, you will have to spend a large -slice of your fortune in defeating the pretenders who are sure to spring -up." - -"Or you will," returned Wilton, laughing; "for he is as likely to leave -it to one as the other, or to some charity." - -"To some charity? That is surely the last of improbabilities." - -"It is impossible to say," returned Wilton; and there was a short pause, -during which he revolved rapidly in his own mind how he could best -approach the topic uppermost in his mind. "How long do you stay at -Brosedale?" he resumed abruptly, as St. George looked round, as if about -to move away. - -"Perhaps a week longer. I have already paid a visitation, but the house -is comfortable, the girls agreeable, and the _padrone_ unobtrusive." - -"If you had not been in such luxurious quarters, and enjoying such -excellent sport, I should have asked you to try a day or two on the moor -I have at Glenraven." - -"Thank you; I should have been most happy, but am engaged to Lord -Parchmount after the twenty-fifth." - -"Did you ever meet any of Lady Fergusson's people, the Savilles she is -so fond of talking about; I fancy there was a brother of hers in the ---th Hussars?" - -"A brother of her former husband's, you mean. I don't believe Lady -Fergusson ever had a brother or a father, or any blood tie of any kind, -but sprang up full-blown, lovely, ambitious, aristocratic, at the touch -of some magic wand; or, to come to a commonplace simile, in a single -night's growth, like a toad-stool. She has been eminently successful -too. What a catch Sir Peter was! Now, if that wretched boy were to -die--for which consummation, no doubt, her ladyship devoutly prays--and -Helen Saville would play her cards with the commonest discretion, she -might secure the fortune for herself and her sisters; but she is a very -uncertain person, a woman on whom no one could count." And St. George -shook his head, as though he had given the subject mature consideration. - -"I suppose you have seen the son and heir?" asked Wilton. - -"Frequently. He dislikes me, and I am amused at the elaborate display he -makes of it. I also like to air my Italian with his interesting little -companion." - -"You knew her in Italy; I think Miss Saville said," remarked Wilton. - -"Knew her? Never. I fancy, from what she says, I have met some of the -people her father associated with--a very disreputable set." - -"Sharpers and blacklegs, I suppose," said Wilton carelessly. - -"No; politically disreputable; dreamers of utopian dreams, troublesome -items to governments; amiable men, who will make martyrs of themselves. -You have no idea in England what a nuisance these fellows are; of course -there are plenty of desperate fanatics mixed up with them. I do not -remember the name of Rivers among those I have met, but I imagine that -picturesque girl at Brosedale was among the better class. She really -looks like a gentlewoman; with her knowledge of language and air of -refinement she would make a charming travelling companion." - -As the accomplished _attaché_ uttered this with a soft arch smile, as -though it were an infantine jest, he little thought what a large amount -of self-control he called into action in his cousin's mind. To have -seized him by the collar, and shaken him till he retracted the insulting -words, would have been a great relief; to have rebuked him sternly for -speaking lightly of a girl of whom he knew no evil, would have been some -satisfaction; but modern manners forbade the first, and a due sense of -the ridiculous the second. Control himself as Wilton might, he could not -call up the answering smile which St. George expected, but instead -stared at him with a fixed haughty stare, which, although rather -unaccountable to its object, seemed sufficiently disagreeable to make -him turn away and seek more congenial companionship. - -Wilton, too, talked and laughed, and played his part with a proper -degree of animation; but a bruised, galled sensation clung to him all -the evening. There is a large class of men for whom such a remark as St. -George Wilton's would have been fatally destructive to the charm and -romance enfolding an object of admiration. To find what is precious to -them, common and unholy in the eyes of another, would destroy the -preciousness and desecrate the holiness! But there is another, a -smaller, though nobler and stronger class, whom the voice of the -scoffer, scoff he never so subtly, cannot incite to doubt or -disloyalty--to whom love is still lovely, and beauty still beautiful; -although others apply different terms to what they have recognized as -either one or the other. These are the men who see with their own eyes, -and Wilton was one of them. It was with the sort of indignation a -crusader might have felt to see an infidel handling a holy relic, that -he thought of his cousin's careless words. Nay, more, reflecting that -St. George was but one of many who would have thus felt and spoken of a -girl to whom he dared not address a word of love lest it might check or -destroy the sweet, frank friendliness with which she treated him, he -asked himself again, what was to be the end thereof? Then he for the -first time acknowledged to himself what he had often indistinctly felt -before, that to tell her he loved her, to ask her to be his wife, to -read astonishment, perhaps dawning tenderness, in her wonderful eyes, to -hold her to his heart, to own her before the world, to shelter her from -difficulty so far as one mortal can another, would be heaven to him! - -She had struck some deeper, truer chord in his nature than had ever been -touched before; and his whole being answered; all that seemed impossible -and insurmountable gradually faded into insignificance compared to his -mighty need for that quiet, pale, dark-eyed little girl! - -The day after Wilton's return from D---- Castle, feeling exceedingly -restless and unaccountably expectant, he sallied forth with his gun on -his shoulder, more as any excuse than with any active sporting -intentions. As he passed the gate into the road, a large half-bred -mastiff, belonging to Sir Peter Fergusson, rushed up, and Wilton, -knowing he was an ill-tempered brute, called his own dogs to heel, but -the mastiff did not notice them; he kept snuffing about as though he -had lost his master, and then set off in a long, swinging gallop toward -Brosedale. - -Wilton, deep in thought, went on to the brae he so often visited in the -commencement of his stay at Glenraven. He had not long quitted the high -road, when he perceived a well-known figure, as usual clothed in gray, -walking rather slowly before him, and looking wonderfully in accordance -with the soft, neutral tints of sky and stones and hill-side--it was one -of those still, mild winter days that have in them something of the -tenderness and resignation of old age; and which, in our variable -climate, sometimes come with a startling change of atmosphere -immediately after severe cold. As he hastened to overtake her, Wilton -fancied her step was less firm and elastic than usual; that her head -drooped slightly as if depressed; yet there was a little more color than -was ordinary in her cheek, and certainly an expression of pleasure in -her eyes that made his heart beat when she turned at his salutation. She -wore a small turban hat of black velvet, with a rosette in front, which -looked Spanish, and most becoming to her dark eyes and pale, refined -face. - -"At last, Miss Rivers! I thought you must have abjured this brae since -Moncrief and myself became temporary proprietors. I began to fear I -should never meet you out of doors again." - -"I have not been out for a long time alone," she replied; "but to-day -some great man from London, a doctor, was to see poor Donald, and I was -free for awhile, so I rambled away far up that hill-side. It was -delightful--so still, so grave, so soft." - -"You have been up the hill," cried Wilton, infinitely annoyed to think -he had been lounging and writing in the house when he might have had a -long walk with his companion. "I wish I had been with you. I imagine it -must double one's enjoyment of scenery to look at it with a thorough -artist like yourself." - -Miss Rivers did not reply at once, but, after a moment's pause, asked, -"Are you going out now to shoot?" - -"Well, yes--at least it is my first appearance to-day." - -"Would it be very inconvenient to you to walk back to Brosedale, or part -of the way, with me?" She spoke with a slight, graceful hesitation. - -"Inconvenient! No, certainly not," returned Wilton, trying to keep his -eyes and voice from expressing too plainly the joy her request gave him. -"It is a charity to employ me. You know I have lost my chum, Major -Moncrief, and I feel somewhat adrift. But I thought young Fergusson was -better. Miss Saville said so." - -Miss Rivers shook her head. "They know nothing about it. He will never -be better; but it is not because he is worse that this great doctor -comes. He pays periodical visits. Donald always suffers; and I think he -frets because his step-sisters and that cousin of yours come and sketch -and talk in our room so often; it does him no good." - -"Am I wrong in interpreting your emphasis on '_that_ cousin of yours' as -an unfavorable expression?" - -"Do you like him?" she asked, looking straight into his eyes. - -"No," replied Wilton, uncompromisingly; while he gave back her gaze with -interest. - -"It is curious," she said, musingly, "for he never offends; he is -accomplished; his voice is pleasant. Why do you not like him?" - -"I cannot tell. Why don't you?" - -"Ah! it is different. I--I am foolish, perhaps, to be so influenced by -unreasoning instinct; but I fancy--I feel--he is not honest--not true. -Are you really kinsmen?--of the same race, the same blood?" - -"Yes, I believe so! And may I infer from your question that you believe -I am tolerably honest--beyond deserving to be intrusted with the forks -and spoons, I mean?" - -"I do--I do, indeed." She spoke quite earnestly, and the words made -Wilton's heart beat. Before, however, he had time to reply, a gentleman -came round an angle of broken bank, crowned by a group of mountain ash, -which in summer formed a very picturesque point, and to Wilton's great -surprise he found himself face to face with St. George. Involuntarily he -looked at Ella Rivers, but she seemed not in the least astonished; -rather cold and collected. Suddenly it flashed into his mind that she -had asked his escort to avoid a _tête-à-tête_ with the agreeable -_attaché_, with a crowd of associated inferences not calculated to -increase his cousinly regard. St. George raised his hat with a gentle -smile. - -"I did not expect to have the pleasure of meeting you, Colonel, though I -had intended paying you a visit. Miss Rivers, one has seldom a chance of -finding you so far afield. I presume it is a favorable indication of the -young laird's health that you can be spared to enjoy a ramble with -Colonel Wilton." - -There was just the suspicion of a sneer about his lips as he spoke, -which completed the measure of Wilton's indignation. But Miss Rivers -replied with the most unmoved composure that Donald was as usual, and -then walked on in silence. After a few remarks, very shortly answered by -Wilton, the bland _attaché_ accepted his defeat. - -"Did you see a large brown dog along here? I had the brute with me this -morning, and he has strayed. I do not like to return without him, for -he is rather a favorite with Sir Peter." - -"Yes, I saw him just now further up the road, close to my gate," -returned Wilton quickly, without adding what direction the animal had -taken. - -"Thank you. Then I will prosecute my search instead of spoiling your -_tête-à-tête_"--with which parting shot St. George left them. - -For some paces Wilton and his companion walked on in silence. He stole a -glance at her face; it was composed and thoughtful. "I suppose you were -not surprised by that apparition? Perhaps it was a choice of the smaller -evil that induced you to adopt a _tête-à-tête_ with me, instead of with -him?" He looked earnestly for her reply. - -"It was," she said, without raising her eyes to his. "He passed me just -now in the dog-cart with another gentleman, and I thought it possible he -might return; so, as you have always been kind and friendly, I thought I -might ask you to come with me." - -Another pause ensued, for Wilton's heated imagination conjured up an -array of serious annoyances deserving the severest castigation, and he -scarcely dared trust himself to speak, so fearful was he of checking her -confidence, or seeming to guess too much of the truth. At last he -exclaimed, with a sort of suppressed vehemence that startled Miss -Rivers into looking at him quickly, "By heaven, it is too bad that you -should be bored, in your rare moments of freedom, with the idle chatter -of that fellow." - -"It is a bore, but that is all. It amuses him to speak Italian with -me"--an expression of superb disdain gleamed over her face for an -instant, and left it quiet and grave. "Though wonderfully civil, even -complimentary, he conveys, more than any one I ever met, the hatefulness -of class distinctions." - -"I feel deeply thankful for the doubt you expressed just now that he -belonged to the same race as myself." - -"You are quite different; but I dare say you have plenty of the -prejudices peculiar to your caste." - -"I wish you would undertake my conversion. It might not be so difficult. -Your denunciation of soldiers has rung in my ears--no--rather haunted my -imagination ever since you showed me your sketch-book in that desolate -waiting-room." - -"I remember," said she, gravely. "No, I shall never convert you; even if -I wrote a political thesis for your benefit." After a short pause, she -resumed abruptly, "Do you know, I fear poor Donald has not much of life -before him?" - -"Indeed! What induces you to think so?" - -"He is so weak, and feverish, and sleepless. He often rings for me to -read to him in the dead of the night. And then, with all his ill temper -and selfishness, he has at times such gleams of noble thought, such -flashes of intellectual light, that I cannot help feeling it is the -flicker of the dying lamp. I shall be profoundly grieved when his sad, -blighted life is over. No one knows him as I do; and no one cares for me -as he does. I have ventured to speak to Lady Fergusson, but she cannot -or will not see, and forbids my addressing Sir Peter on the subject." - -"And if this unfortunate boy dies, what is to become of you?" asked -Wilton, too deeply interested to choose his words, yet a little -apprehensive lest he might offend. - -"I do not know; I have never thought," she replied, quite naturally. "I -suppose I should go back to Mrs. Kershaw. She is fond of me in her way, -especially since I nursed her through that fever." - -"And then," persisted Wilton, looking earnestly at her half-averted face -with an expression which, had she turned and caught it, would probably -have destroyed the pleasant, friendly tone of their intercourse. - -"I do not know; but I do not dread work. To do honest service is no -degradation to me. I have always heard of work as the true religion of -humanity. No. I have very little fear of the future, because, perhaps, I -have so little hope." - -"You are a strange girl," exclaimed Wilton, with a certain degree of -familiarity, which yet was perfectly respectful. "I fancy few men have -so much pluck I dare say Lady Fergusson would not like to lose so -charming a companion for her daughters." - -"Lady Fergusson does not think me at all charming; and Miss Saville does -not like me, nor I her. But whether they like it or not, I shall not -remain if Donald dies." - -"Mrs. Kershaw is the person in whose house your father died?" said -Wilton softly, and in the same confidential tone their conversation had -taken. - -Miss Rivers bent her head. - -"Where does she live?" - -"At Kensington." - -"Whereabouts? I know Kensington pretty well." - -"Oh! in H---- Street. There is a little garden in front, so it is called -Gothic Villa, though there is very little that is Gothic about it." Here -Miss Rivers stopped. - -"Yes!" exclaimed Wilton; "I see we are within the Brosedale boundaries; -but you must not dismiss your escort yet; that diplomatic relative of -mine may be on our heels." - -"Do not imagine I fear to encounter him," said she, with an arch smile. -"I ought, perhaps, to apologize to you for taking you out of your way -for so slight a cause; but even if a fly alights on one's brow or hand, -the impulse is to brush it away." - -"Do not dismiss me so soon, however. I am going away the day after -to-morrow, and may not see you again before I leave." - -"You are going! I am sorry." She spoke with a simple sincerity that at -once charmed, and yet mortified him. - -"You have always seemed more like an old friend than a stranger," she -continued; "and I shall miss you." - -"If I could be of the smallest use--the slightest comfort to you," said -Wilton--his tones deepening unconsciously while he drew nearer to her, -feeling still fearful of awakening any consciousness of the passionate -feeling with which he regarded her--"I would willingly renounce my visit -to A----; but I am only going there for a few days, and hope to return -in time for some entertainment which is to take place in honor of Sir -Peter's birthday." - -"Oh, yes; it was the same last year. A ball for the near neighbors and -tenants and dwellers in the house. I had no heart to see the last, but I -have promised Isabel to be present at this." - -"Indeed! then, pray, make another promise--to dance with me." - -"Yes; I will dance with you, if you remember about it, and come to claim -me." - -"If!" repeated Wilton with eloquent emphasis; "If I am in life you will -see me there, even though I risk another railway smash to keep the -tryst." - -There was a fervor and depth in his voice beyond what the mere words -required that struck his companion. She turned to him with a startled, -wondering expression in her eyes, which met his fully for a moment, and -then sank slowly, while a faint flitting blush came and went on her -cheek, the sweet curved lips quivered, and an unmistakable look of pain -and gravity stole over her face. Wilton was ready to curse his own want -of self-control for thus disturbing her, and yet this touch of emotion -and consciousness completed the potent spell she had laid upon him. He -burned to complete with his lips the confession his eyes had begun, but -he must not, dare not then; so, with an immense effort over himself, he -managed to say somewhat at random, "I suppose they have a good -band--good enough to dance to?" - -"Yes, I believe so;" and then again she stood still. "You have come -quite far enough. I must say good-by. I do not wish to take you any -further." She again raised her eyes to his with a sort of effort, but -gravely and resolutely. - -"I obey," replied Wilton as gravely, all anxiety to win her back to her -former easy, confidential tone; he raised his hat and looked in vain for -a movement on her side to hold out her hand. "Then I may count on you -for the first waltz at the birthday fête. I shall come for it, rest -assured; so remember if you let St. George or any one else persuade you -to break your promises, the results may be--fatal." He endeavored to -assume a light tone, but could not judge of its effect, for Miss Rivers -merely said in a low voice, "Good-by. I shall not forget." - -Wilton sought for another glance in vain. She bent her head as he stood -aside to let her pass, and vanished quickly among the trees. - -The walk back was accomplished almost unconsciously, so deeply was -Wilton absorbed in thought. Involuntarily he had torn away the veil -which had hitherto hidden the real character of their intercourse from -that proud, frank, simple girl, and how would she take it? With a woman -of her calibre anything like indirectness, of parleying with generous -impulses, would consign him to the limbo of her contempt; and the grand -scorn of her face when she spoke of St. George Wilton amusing himself -with her, flashed back upon him. Of that he could not bear to think, nor -of giving her up and seeking safety in flight, nor of tormenting himself -by hanging about her vaguely. There was but one way out of it all--wild, -imprudent, insane as it must appear, even to decent worldlings like -Moncrief--and that was to go in gallantly and dauntlessly for marriage -at all risks. Wilton's pulses throbbed at the idea; once certain of -himself and his motives, he felt that he could break down any barrier of -reserve Ella Rivers might erect against him, and, at least, ascertain -what were his chances, or if he had any. - -In this mood the next day's dinner at Brosedale was a great trial, -though a slight increase of friendliness toward St. George, who had -evidently held his tongue about their rencontre. All passed over -serenely, and promising faithfully to return in time for the ball, he -bid the Brosedale party "good-night." Not sorry to try his own -impressions by the test of change, both of scene and company, he started -for A---- the next morning. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -The annual entertainment at Brosedale was on an unusual scale this year. -The house was full, and full of eligible people. Mr. St. George Wilton, -it is true, had departed without laying himself and his diplomatic -honors at Miss Saville's feet; but that accomplished young lady was -upheld by the consciousness that his soldier-cousin would be there to -fill his place, and would be no mean substitute. - -This celebration of Sir Peter Fergusson's birthday was instituted by his -admiring wife, who found it useful as a sort of rallying point at a -difficult season, and helped the family radiance to obliterate the -whilom revered Grits of Brosedale; and Sir Peter, to whom money was no -object, allowed himself to be flattered and fooled into this piece of -popularity-hunting as "advisable" and the "right thing." - -Wilton dressed and drove over to Brosedale, in a mingled state of -resolution and anxiety. Although he seemed as pleasant a companion, as -good a shot, as bold a rider as ever to his Hussar hosts, he found -plenty of time to think, to examine, and to torment himself. He had not -reached his thirty-fifth year without a sprinkling of love affairs, some -of them, especially of early date, fiery enough; but no previous fancy -or passion had taken such deep hold upon him as the present one. Like -many of the better sort of men, he looked on women as pretty, charming -toys; to be kindly and honorably treated, cared for and protected, but -chiefly created for man's pleasure, to give a certain grace to his -existence when good, and to spoil it when wicked. A woman with -convictions, with an individual inner life; a woman he could talk to, as -to a friend, apart from her personal attraction; a woman who spoke to -him as if love-making was not thought of between them; a woman to whom -he dared not make love lest he should lose those delicious glimpses of -heart and mind, so fresh, so utterly unconscious of their own -charm--this was something quite beyond his experience. Then, to a true -gentleman, her strangely forlorn, isolated position hedged her round -with a strong though invisible fence; and the great difficulty of -meeting her alone, of finding opportunities to win her, and rouse her -from her pleasant but provoking ease and friendliness--all conspired to -fan the steadily increasing fire. Occupy himself as he might, the sound -of her voice was ever in his ear; her soft, earnest, fearless eyes -forever in his sight. What a companion she would be, with her bright -intelligence, her quick sympathy, her artistic taste! and through all -this attraction of fancy and intelligence ran the electric current of -strong passion, the intense longing to read love in her eyes, to feel -the clasp of her slender arms, to hold her to his heart, and press his -lips to hers! He had known many fairer women, but none before had -stirred his deeper, better nature like this friendless, obscure girl, on -whom he involuntarily looked with more of reverence than the haughtiest -peeress had called forth; and come what might, he would not lose her for -lack of boldness to face the possible ills of an unequal match. - -Wilton did not deceive himself as to the seeming insanity of such a -marriage. He knew what Moncrief would say; what the world in which he -lived would say--for that he cared little; but he looked ahead. He knew -his means were limited for a man in his position; then there were good -appointments in India and elsewhere for military men with administrative -capacities and tolerable interest; and with Ella Rivers and plenty of -work, home and happiness would exist anywhere, everywhere! Lord St. -George! Ay; there lay a difficulty. However, he was certainly a -perfectly free agent; but it went sorely against him to resign the -prospect of wealth to support the rank which must come to him. -Insensibly he had appropriated it in his mind since his interview with -the old peer, and now he wished more than ever to secure it for Ella's -sake. Whatever might be the obscurity of her origin, she would give new -dignity to a coronet, if she would accept him. It was this "if" that lay -at the root of the anxiety with which Wilton drove to Brosedale, and -struggled to be lively and agreeable while the guests assembled, for he -was unusually early. Who could foresee whether that wonderful -unconsciousness which characterized Miss Rivers's manner might not be -the result of a preoccupied heart? At the idea of a rival--a successful -rival--Wilton felt murderous, while smiling and complimenting Miss -Saville as they stood together in the music-room, where the first -arrivals were received. - -"I thought St. George had left some time ago," he said, observing that -gentleman approach. - -"He returned for the ball," replied Miss Saville, who was looking very -handsome in a superb toilet. "He dances divinely. We could not have got -on without him." - -"Dancing is a diplomatic accomplishment," said Wilton gravely. "I am -told there used to be a competition ballet once a year at Whitehall, for -which leave was granted at remote missions; but the advantages possessed -by the Paris and Vienna _attachés_ over those in Vancouver's Land and -the Cannibal Islands were so unfair that it has been discontinued; -besides, old H---- is opposed to the graces." - -This speech permitted St. George to come up, and he immediately engaged -the beautiful Helen for the first waltz. - -"I think we may as well begin, Helen," said Lady Fergusson; "we can make -up two or three quadrilles. Come, Lord Ogilvie"--this to a fledgling -lord, who had been caught for the occasion--"take Miss Saville to the -ball-room." - -"Where is your youngest daughter, Lady Fergusson?" asked Colonel Wilton. -"I suppose on such an occasion she is permitted to share the pomps and -vanities. Eh?" - -"Oh, Isabel! She has already gone into the ball-room with Miss Walker; -but I cannot permit you to throw yourself away on a school girl. Let me -introduce you to--" - -"My dear Lady Fergusson, you must permit me the liberty of choice. -Isabel or nothing," he interrupted. - -"Very well," said Lady Fergusson, with a slight, but pleased smile. - -Colonel Wilton offered his arm, and they proceeded to the ball-room. It -was the largest of two large drawing-rooms, only separated by handsome -columns. Cleared of furniture and profusely decorated with flowers, it -was spacious and attractive enough to satisfy the wildest D----shire -imagination, nor was it beneath the approval of the experienced -Londoners staying in the house. At one end it opened on a large fragrant -conservatory; here the band was stationed; the further end of the second -drawing-room was an apartment devoted to refreshments, and again -communicating with the conservatory by a glass-covered passage lined -with tropical shrubs, lighted by soft, ground-glass lamps, and warmed to -a delicious temperature. When Wilton entered the ball-room the first -sets of quadrilles were being formed. He soon perceived Isabel standing -beside her step-father, and Miss Walker, in festive attire, conversing -with a learned-looking old gentleman in spectacles at a little distance. -Wilton's heart failed him. Where was Ella Rivers? Had Donald insisted on -keeping her a prisoner lest she might enjoy a pleasure he could not -share? - -However, he asked the delighted school-girl to dance with a suitable air -of enjoyment, and before the third figure had begun had extracted the -following information. - -"Donald has been frightfully cross all day; he always is when we have a -ball; and he has kept Miss Rivers so late! But I think she is ready now; -she was to wait in the conservatory till Miss Walker went for her, as -she could not very well come in alone." - -After which communication Miss Isabel Saville found her partner slightly -absent, and given rather to spasmodic spurts of conversation than to -continuous agreeability. In truth, the quadrille seemed very long. He -watched Miss Walker carefully; she was still alone, and--if such a -phrase could be applied to anything so rigid--fluttering amiably from -one dowager to another among the smaller gentry invited once a year. - -"Now Colonel Wilton," said Lady Fergusson when the quadrille was over, -"I will introduce you to a charming partner--an heiress, a belle--" - -"Do not think of it," he interrupted. "I have almost forgotten how to -dance; you had better keep me as a reserve fund for the partnerless and -forlorn." - -Wilton stepped back to make way for some new arrivals; still, no sign of -Ella. Miss Walker was in deep conversation with a stout lady in maroon -satin and black lace; she had evidently forgotten her promise; so, -slipping through the rapidly-increasing crowd, Wilton executed a bold -and skilful flank movement. - -Passing behind the prettily ornamented stand occupied by the musicians, -just as they struck up a delicious waltz, he plunged into the -dimly-lighted recesses of the conservatory in search of the missing -girl. She was not there, so he dared to penetrate into the passage -before mentioned, on which one or two doors opened; one of them was -open, letting in a brilliant light from the room behind, and just upon -the threshold stood Ella Rivers, with an expectant look in her eyes. -Wilton paused in his approach, so impressed was he by her air of -distinction. The delicate white of her neck and arms showed through her -dress of black gauze; her dark brown, glossy hair braided back into wide -plaited loops behind her small shell-like ear, and brought round the -head in a sort of crown, against which lay her only ornament, a white -camellia with its dark green leaves. As she stood thus, still and -composed, waiting patiently, and looking so purely, softly, colorless, -and fair, the quiet grace of her figure, the dusk transparency of her -drapery, associated her in Wilton's fancy with the tender beauty of -moonlight; but, as the thought passed through his brain, he stepped -forward and accosted her. - -"I have come to claim the waltz you promised me, Miss Rivers." - -She started, and colored slightly. "Yes," she replied, "I am ready, as -you have remembered. I am waiting for Miss Walker, who promised to come -for me." - -"She is engaged with some people in the ball-room, so I ventured to -come in her place." - -He bowed, and offered his arm as he spoke, with the utmost deference; -and Miss Rivers, with one quick, surprised glance, took it in silence. - -"You remembered your promise to me?" asked Wilton, as they passed -through the conservatory. - -"Scarcely," she replied, with a slight smile. "I did not think of it -till you spoke." - -"And had I been a little later I should have found you waltzing with -some more fortunate fellow?" - -"Yes, very likely, had any one else asked me. You see," apologetically, -"I am very fond of dancing, and I know so few--or rather I know no -one--so had you not come, and I had waited for you, I might never have -danced at all." - -"But you _knew_ I would come," exclaimed Wilton, eagerly. - -Miss Rivers shook her head, raising her eyes to his with the first -approach to anything like coquetry he had ever noticed in her, though -playfulness would be the truer description. - -"You knew I would come," he repeated. - -"Indeed I did not." - -These words brought them to the ball-room, and as they stepped out into -the light and fragrance of the bright, well-filled, decorated room, -Wilton's companion uttered a low exclamation of delight. - -"How beautiful! how charming--and the music! Come, let us dance! we are -losing time. Oh! how long it is since I danced! How glad I am you came -for me!" - -Wilton tried to look into her eyes, to catch their expression when she -uttered these words, but in vain--they were wandering with animated -delight over the gay scene and whirling figures, while her hand, half -unconsciously, was stretched up to his shoulder. The next moment they -were floating away to the strains of one of Strauss's dreamy waltzes. - -"And where did you last dance?" asked Wilton, as they paused for breath. - -"Oh! at M----, under the great chestnut trees. There was an Austrian -band there; and, although such tyrants, they make excellent music, the -Austrians. It was so lovely and fresh that evening." - -"And who were your partners--Austrian or Italian?" - -"Neither; I only danced with Diego--dear, good Diego. Do not speak of -it! I want to forget now. I want to enjoy this one evening--just this -one." - -There was wonderful pathos in her voice and eyes; but Wilton only said, -"Then, if you are rested, we will go on again." He could not trust -himself to say more at that moment. - -When the dance was ended, Wilton, anxious to avoid drawing any notice -upon his partner, led her at once to Miss Walker, and considerably -astonished that lady by asking her for the next quadrille. For several -succeeding dances he purposely avoided Ella, while he distributed his -attentions with judicious impartiality; although he managed to see that -she danced more than once, but never with St. George, who seemed to -avoid her. - -At last, the move to supper was made, and, at the same time, a gay -gallop was played, to employ the younger guests and keep them from -crowding upon their elders while in the sacred occupation of eating. -Seeing the daughters of the house deeply engaged, Wilton indulged -himself in another dance with Ella. When they ceased, the room was -wellnigh cleared. - -"Now, tell me," said Wilton--his heart beating fast, for he was resolved -not to part with his companion until he had told her the passionate love -which she had inspired--till he had won her to some avowal, or promise, -or explanation--"tell me, have you had nothing all this time? No ice, or -wine, or--" - -"Yes--an ice; it was very good." - -"And you would like another? Come, we are more likely to find it in the -refreshment-room than at supper, and be less crowded too; unless your -mind is fixed on game pie and champagne?" While he forced himself to -speak lightly, he scarce heard his own spoken words, for listening to -the burning sentences forming themselves in his brain, and for planning -how to find some blessed opportunity of being alone with the fair girl, -whose hand, as it rested on his arm, he could not help pressing to his -side. - -"No, no," she exclaimed, smiling, "I do not care for game pie; but I -should like an ice." - -"Then we will make for the refreshment-room." It was nearly empty, but -not quite; one or two couples and a few waiters rendered it anything but -a desirable solitude. However, Wilton composed himself as best he could -to watch Ella eat her ice, while he solaced himself with a tumbler of -champagne. "Who have you been dancing with?" he asked, trying to make -her speak and look at him. - -"I do not know. One gentleman was introduced to me by Isabel; the other -introduced himself. I liked him the best, although he is a soldier"--a -laughing glance at Wilton--"and he says he knows you." - -"Oh! young Langley of the 15th, I suppose?" - -"He dances very badly--much worse than you do." - -"That is a very disheartening speech. I thought I rather distinguished -myself this evening; but I suppose your friend Diego could distance me -considerably." - -"You mean he danced better?"--pausing, with a spoonful of ice half-way -to her lips. "Well, yes; you really dance very well; I enjoyed my dance -with you; but Diego! his dancing was superb!" - -"Was he not rather old for such capering?" - -"Old! Ah, no. Diego never was, never will be, old! Poor fellow! You -would like Diego, if you knew him." - -"You think so?"--very doubtfully--"however, we were not to talk about -him. Let me take away your plate. And have you managed to enjoy your -evening?" - -"Well, no"--looking up at him with wistful eyes--"that is the truth. It -is so terribly strange and lonely, I was thinking of stealing away when -you asked me for that galop." - -"Let us go and see Donald," exclaimed Wilton, abruptly rising. "His room -opens on the other side of the conservatory, does it not?" - -"But he is not there; he is gone to bed." - -"Had he gone when you came away?" - -"No; but he was quite worn out with his own crossness, and is, I hope, -fast asleep by this time." - -"Well, I am under the impression that he is still up." - -"Did any one tell you? How very wrong. He ought to be in bed. I shall -go and see." - -"Yes; you had better. It is half past twelve! Let me go with you; I may -be of some use." - -"Come, then," said she, frankly; and Wilton followed her, feeling that -he was about to reap the reward of the self-control by which he had won -back her confidence, which he feared his unguarded glance had shaken -when they had last met. - -Ella Rivers walked quickly down the passage leading to the conservatory, -now quite deserted, the band having gone to refresh, and crossed to a -glass door, through which light still shone. "I do believe he is up. The -lamp is still burning." She opened it and stepped in. Wilton followed, -dexterously dropping the curtain as he passed through. - -"No; he is gone," said Ella, looking around. "I am so glad!" - -"So am I," exclaimed Wilton, most sincerely. - -"How quiet and comfortable the room looks," continued his companion, -drawing off her gloves. "I shall not return to the ball; it is no place -for me; so good-night, Colonel Wilton." - -"Not yet," he exclaimed, in a low, earnest tone. "Hear me first--I -cannot help speaking abruptly--I dare not lose so precious an -opportunity." He approached her as he spoke. She was standing by a -large writing-table near the fire-place, where the last embers were -dying out; she had just laid down her gloves, and, resting one hand upon -the table, looked up with a wondering, startled expression. Her total -unconsciousness of what was coming struck Wilton dumb for a moment; but -he was naturally resolute, and had the advantage of having thoroughly -made up his mind. "Although I have done my best to mask my feelings," he -resumed, speaking rapidly, but with unmistakable emotion, "fearing to -frighten you from the friendly confidence you have hitherto shown me, I -cannot hide or suppress them any longer--I must tell you I love you! I -must ask if there is a chance for me with you? I know it is audacious to -address you thus when I have had so few opportunities of making myself -known to you; but the great difficulty of seeing you, your peculiar -position, the terrible uncertainty--" - -"Oh! hush, hush!" interrupted Ella, who had turned very pale, covering -her eyes with one hand and stretching out the other as if to ward off a -danger; "do not speak like that! Have I lost my only friend! I did not -dream of this--at least I only once feared it, I--" - -"Feared," interrupted Wilton in his turn. "Why, am I lost? Are you -pledged to some other man that you shrink from me? Speak, Ella! If it is -so, why I must not force myself upon you. Speak to me! look at me!" -And, in his intense anxiety to ascertain the truth, he drew her hand -from her face and held it locked in both of his. - -"I pledged to anyone! no indeed"--raising her eyes, by a sort of -determined effort, gravely, earnestly to his--"I never thought of such a -thing!" she returned, trying to draw away her hand. - -"Then am I utterly unacceptable to you? You cannot form an idea of the -intense love you have created, or you would not speak so coldly! Ella, -there is no one to care for you as I do--no one to consult--no one to -keep you back from me! If you do not care for me now, tell me how I can -win you! do not turn away from me! I have much to explain--much to tell -you--and I dare not detain you now lest we might be interrupted, but -come to-morrow across the brae! I will be there every afternoon by the -cairn until you can manage to come, if you will only promise. For God's -sake do not refuse to hear me!" He bent over her, longing, yet not -daring, to draw her to him. - -"Let my hand go," said Ella, in a low voice, and trembling very much. -Wilton instantly released it. "Go to meet you! no, I must not--I will -not." She stopped, and, pressing her hand against her heart, went on -hurriedly--"I can hear no more; I will go away now! Ah! how sorry I -am!" She moved toward a door opening into the house, but Wilton -intercepted her. - -"You misunderstand me, though I cannot see why; but will you at least -promise to read what I write? Promise this, and I will not intrude upon -you any longer." - -"I will," she replied faintly. Wilton bowed and stepped back; the next -instant he was alone. - -Alone, and most uncomfortable. He had in some mysterious manner offended -her. He could understand her being a little startled, but--here one of -those sudden intuitions which come like a flash of summer lightning, -revealing objects shrouded in the dark of a sultry night, darted across -his misty conjectures--he had not mentioned the words "wife" or -"marriage." Could she imagine that he was only trifling with her? or -worse? The blood mounted to his cheek as the thought struck him; and -yet, painful as the idea was, it suggested hope. Her evident grief, her -visible shrinking from the word "love," did not look like absolute -indifference. She did not like to lose him as a friend, and she feared a -possible loss of respect in his adopting the character of her lover. -Then she had been so deeply impressed by the caste prejudices of the -people around her, to say nothing of the possible impertinences of Mr. -St. George Wilton, that it was not improbable she had cruelly -misinterpreted his avowal. These reflections gave him the keenest pain, -the most ardent longing to fly to Ella to pour out assurances of the -deepest, the warmest esteem, but that was impossible for the present; he -had nothing for it but to hook up the curtain again, and return to the -ball-room, planning a letter to Ella, which should leave no shadow of -doubt as to the sincerity and purity of his affection for her. - -But the sound of the music, the sight of the dancers, the effort to seem -as if nothing had happened, was too much for his sell-control, and, -excusing himself to his hostess, he was soon driving home, thankful to -be out in the cold, fresh night air, which seemed to quiet his pulses -and clear his thoughts. Cost him what it might, he would never give Ella -up, unless she positively refused him, and of that he would not think. -The slight and unsatisfactory taste of open love-making which he had -snatched only served to increase the hunger for more. The indescribable, -shrinking, despairing tone and gesture with which Ella cried, "Then I -have lost you for my friend," was vividly present with him, and before -he slept that night, or rather morning, he poured forth on paper all his -love, his aspirations, that could be written. He did not, as -letter-writing heroes generally do, sacrifice a hecatomb of note-paper. -He knew what he wanted, and said it in good, terse, downright English, -stamped with so much earnestness and honesty that it would have been a -cold heart, much colder than Ella Rivers's, that could have read it -unmoved. Then, like a sensible man--for in spite of the strong love fit -upon him, and the rather insane line of conduct he had chosen to adopt, -Wilton was a sensible fellow--he set himself to wait patiently till the -following day, which might bring him a reply, or possibly a meeting with -Ella herself, which he had most urgently entreated. That she would -either write or come he felt sure, and so to while away the time he kept -a half made appointment with some of his military friends, and enjoyed a -sharp run over a stiff country with the D----shire hounds, and dined -with the mess afterwards. - -He was, however, less composed next day when no letter reached him from -Ella, and no Ella appeared at the tryst. The next day was stormy, with -heavy showers, and the next was frosty--still no letter; still no -Ella--and Wilton began to fret, and champ the bit of imperious -circumstance with suppressed fury. If to-morrow brought no better luck -he would endure it no longer, but make a bold inroad upon the fortress -wherein his love--his proud, delicate darling--was held in durance vile. - -The weather was still bright and clear. A light frost lay crisp and -sparkling on the short herbage and tufts of broom; the air was so -still, that the rush of the river, as it chafed against the big black -stones opposing its progress, could be heard at a considerable distance -past the cairn, where a path very little frequented branched off to a -remote hamlet over the wooded hill behind Glenraven. The low-lying -country towards Monkscleugh lay mapped out in the rarefied air, which -diminished distance and gave wondrous distinctness to all outlines. A -delicious winter's day; all sounds mellowed to a sort of metallic music -by the peculiar state of the atmosphere. But Wilton was in no mood to -enjoy the beauties of nature. He was feverish with impatience as he -walked to and fro behind the friendly shelter of the cairn, and noticed, -in the odd, mechanical way with which the mind at certain crises seems -excited into a species of double action, and while absorbed by the great -motive can yet take in and imprint indelibly upon its tablets all the -minute details of surrounding objects. He saw the picturesque roughness -of a prostrate tree; he watched the shadow of the cairn stealing -gradually further eastward; he noticed a little robin perching on a -twig, that seemed to look at him without apprehension; he gazed at a -couple of ragged, miserable goats who were feeding at a little distance, -occasionally lifting up their heads to bleat at each other. Years after -he could have described the position of these objects, though at the -moment he was scarce conscious of them. "Ten minutes to three! If she is -not here in ten minutes, I will walk on to Brosedale and find out why," -he muttered to himself, as he walked away once more toward the hill. -When he turned he saw a slight figure, wrapped in a dark green plaid, -standing beside the tree, in the place he had just quitted. -Then--impatience, and doubt, and anger all swept away in a flood of -delight--he sprang to meet her. - -"At last! I thought you would never come. And yet how good of you to -grant my request. I have lived two years since I spoke to you." - -Ella smiled and colored, then turned very pale, and gently, but firmly, -drew away the hand he had taken--looking on the ground all the time. "I -could not come before," she said, in a low, unsteady voice. "To-day Sir -Peter has taken Donald with him to D----." A pause. "I am afraid you -thought me rude--unkind--but I scarcely understood you. I--" She stopped -abruptly. - -"Do you understand me now?" asked Wilton, gravely, coming close to her, -and resting one foot only on the fallen tree, while he bent to look into -the sweet, pale face. "Have you read my letter?" - -"Yes; many times. It has infinitely astonished me." - -"Why?" - -"That you should ask so great a stranger to share your life--your name. -To be with you always--till death. Is it not unwise, hasty?" - -"Many--most people would say so, who were not in love. I cannot reason -or argue about it. I only know that I cannot face the idea of life -without you. Nor shall anything turn me from my determination to win -you, except your own distinct rejection." - -"Is it possible you feel all this--and for me?" exclaimed Ella, stepping -back and raising her great, deep, blue, wondering eyes to his. - -"I loved you from the hour we first met," said Wilton, passionately. -"For God's sake! do not speak so coldly. Are you utterly indifferent to -me? or have you met some one you can love better?" - -"Neither," she replied, still looking earnestly at him. "I never loved -any one. I have often thought of loving, and feared it! it is so solemn. -But how could I love you? I have always liked to meet you and speak to -you, still I scarcely know you; and though to me such things are folly, -I know that to you and to your class there seems a great gulf fixed -between us--a gulf I never dreamed you would span." - -"I do not care what the gulf, what the obstacle," cried Wilton, again -possessing himself of her hand; "I only know that no woman was ever -before necessary to my existence; high or low, you are my queen! Do not -think I should have dared to express my feelings so soon, but for the -enormous difficulty of seeing you--of meeting you. Then I feared that -you might drift away from me. I am not wanting in pluck; but, by heaven! -I never was in such a fright in my life as the other night when I began -to speak to you." - -A sweet smile stole round Ella's lips and sparkled in her eyes as he -spoke. "Ah! you are not going to be inexorable," he continued, watching -with delight this favorable symptom; "if you are heart-whole I do not -quite despair." - -"Colonel Wilton," she replied, again drawing away her hand, "take care -you are not acting on a mere impulse." - -"You speak as if I were a thoughtless, inexperienced boy," he -interrupted, impatiently. "You forget that I was almost a man when you -were born; and as to reflecting, I have never ceased reflecting since I -met you. Believe me, I have thought of everything possible and -impossible, and the result is you must be my wife, unless you have some -insuperable objection." - -"Oh, let me speak to you," she exclaimed, clasping her hands -imploringly; "speak out all my mind, and do not be offended, or -misinterpret me." - -"I will listen to every syllable, and stand any amount of lecturing you -choose to bestow; but let us walk on toward the hill; you will take -cold standing here." - -They moved on accordingly, Ella speaking with great, though controlled, -animation--sometimes stopping to enforce her words with slight, eloquent -gestures. Wilton's heart in his eyes, listening with his whole soul, -slowly and meditatively pulling out his long moustaches. - -"Nature to nature," continued Ella. "I know I am not unworthy of you, -even if you are all you seem. But are you quite sure you will always see -as clearly through the outside of things as you do now? Ah! I have heard -and read such sad, terrible stories of change, and vain regret for what -was irremediable, that I tremble at the thought of what you might bring -upon us both. Mind to mind, heart to heart, we are equals; but the -accidents of our condition--just look at the difference between them. I -am the veriest thistledown of insignificance. I scarce know who I am -myself; and might not the day come when you will regret having -sacrificed your future to a fancy, a whim? You might be too generous to -say so, but do you think I should not know it? If I married you I would -love you, and if I loved you there would not be a shadow on your heart, -nor a variation in your mood that I should not divine. Do not ask me to -love you. I fear it! I am quiet now; my life is not very sunny, but it -is free from absolute pain. Be wise." - -"I am wise," interrupted Wilton; "most wise in my resolution to let -nothing turn me from my purpose; and Ella--for I must speak to you as I -think of you--do not suppose I am offering you a very brilliant lot when -I implore you to be my wife. I am but indifferently off as a simple -gentleman, and will be positively poor when I have higher rank. Still, -if you will trust me--if you will love me--life may be very delicious. -All that you have said only makes me more eager to call you my own. I am -not afraid of changing. I have always been true to my friends--why not -to my love? It is true that you must take me somewhat on my own -recommendation; but is there no instinctive feeling in your heart that -recognizes the sincerity of mine? I have listened to all you have said, -and simply repeat--Will you be my wife, if you are free to be so?" - -"I will answer frankly, yes. Oh, stay, stay! _If_ after six months' -absence you return and repeat the question--" - -"Six months' absence! You are not speaking seriously! Do you think I -should consent to such banishment?" - -"You must, Colonel Wilton, both for your own sake and mine. I must be -sure that the feelings you think so deep will stand some test; you -ought to prove your real need of me by absence, by steeping yourself in -the society of your own class--the women of your own class. I have a -right to ask this." - -"By heaven!" cried Wilton, "you are utterly cold and indifferent, or you -would not put me to so cruel a proof." - -Ella was silent, and tears stood in her eyes, while Wilton went on. -"Think of six months! six months swept clean off the few years of youth -and love and happiness we have before us! It is reckless waste! Hear me -in turn; give up this purgatory! go back to your friendly landlady. I -will meet you in London; in three or four weeks at the farthest we shall -be man and wife. I have more than three months' leave unexpired; we will -go away to Italy, or the south of France. Ella! I feel half-mad at the -idea of such a heaven. Why do you not feel as I do?" - -"No, I must not, I will not," said she, turning very pale, and trembling -excessively, but letting him hold her hand in both his. "I must insist -upon your submitting to the test of absence, in justice to me." - -In vain Wilton implored and almost raged; she was evidently much shaken -and disturbed, but still immovable. The utmost Wilton could win was the -shortening his time of probation to three months, during which time he -was not to write nor expect her to write. If, at the expiration of that -period, he claimed her, she would be his. If he changed, he was simply -to let the tryst go by unnoticed. The settlement of these preliminaries -brought them very near the entrance of the Brosedale plantations, -whither Ella had resolutely bent her steps. Finding his eloquence of no -avail, Wilton was rather moodily silent. - -"You are angry; you think me unkind," said Ella, softly; "but however -you decide you will yet thank me." - -"You do not feel as I do." - -"Perhaps not; yet do not think that it costs me nothing to say good-by. -You always cheered me. I used to look for you when I came out to walk, -and when you used to come and see Donald I always felt less alone." - -"If you feel all this, why do you banish me?" - -"Because it is wisest and kindest; and now good-by. Yes; do go! I want -to be back in time to grow composed before Donald returns." - -"Dearest, you look awfully pale. I ought not to keep you; and yet I -cannot part with you." He drew her to him most tenderly, irresistibly -impelled to breathe his adieu on her lips. - -"No, no," she exclaimed, drawing back. "I dare not kiss you; a kiss to -me would be a marriage bond; do not ask it; do not hold me." He felt -how she trembled, and he released her. - -"One day, Ella, you will perhaps know how much I must love to obey you. -So it must be good-by?" - -"Yes; and remember you leave me perfectly free. I say it with no -arrogance or want of feeling, but if you do not return, I shall not -break my heart. I shall rather rejoice that we have escaped a great -mistake--a terrible sorrow--but if you do come back--" A soft blush -stole over her cheek--a bright smile. Wilton gazed at her, waiting -eagerly for the next words, but they did not come. "Whatever happens," -she resumed, "I shall always remember with pleasure, with respect, that -for once you rose above the conventional gentleman into a natural, true -man." She gave him her hand for a moment, then, drawing it away from his -passionate kisses, disappeared in the fast increasing gloom of evening -among the plantations. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -A bright, blustering March morning was shining, with a cold glitter over -the square of the well-known B---- Barracks, in that pleasant, rackety -capital, Dublin, nearly three months after the interview last recorded. -Parade had just been dismissed, and the officers of the second battalion ---th Rifles had dispersed to their various occupations or engagements, -with the exception of a small group which gathered round an attractive -fire in the mess-room, and discussed the military and club gossip of the -hour. - -"Will you stay for the --th Dragoons' ball, on Thursday, Wilton?" said -one of the younger men to our friend, who was reading a London paper, -and dressed in mufti, evidently a guest. - -"And for St. Paddy's on the 17th?" asked the colonel. "It's a dazzling -scene, and no end of fun." - -"I promised to dine with the mess of the --th Dragoons to-night," -returned Wilton; "and I think I should like to see their ball; but I -must be in Scotland before the 17th, so must forego the humors of St. -Patrick's. I see, colonel, my battalion was not to embark until the -25th of February. They cannot reach England for another month. I have a -great mind to exchange into the regiment that is gone out to relieve -them. I do not like soldiering in England--there is always work to be -done in India." - -The colonel elevated his brows. - -"My dear fellow, you are desperately energetic. I should have thought -that, with your prospects, you had done work enough." - -"My prospects have nothing to do with it. I suppose there would be no -difficulty in the matter?" continued Wilton, reflectively, more to -himself than to his listener. - -"Difficulty! none whatever. The fighting is over, so no one will be -afraid to stay at home; and I fancy there is a very uncomfortable -transition-state before the Anglo-Indian world." - -"I shall ask for extension of leave; I don't fancy joining the depot." - -"How long is Moncrief to be away?" - -"He has three weeks' leave--urgent private affairs. I am sure to see him -in town, though I shall only pass through," remarked Wilton, and -relapsed into silence, scarcely hearing the arguments of his companion, -who proved to demonstration that Wilton would be a fool to make any -exchange, except, indeed, he could get a chance of returning to his old -friends of the second battalion. - -Ralph Wilton was looking thinner and graver than formerly, and there was -an expression of anxiety and irritation in his keen bold eyes. While the -colonel argued, an orderly approached with letters, which his officer -took, and, glancing at the addresses, handed two or three to Wilton. -"This is from Moncrief," said he, opening an envelope directed in a -remarkably stiff, legible hand--"forwarded from Athgarven. He is annoyed -at missing me, and--" Here he stopped, and read on, with knit brows and -fixed attention, then let the hand which held the letter drop, and stood -wrapped in thought. - -"No bad news?" asked the colonel. - -"Yes--no," he returned, absently. "My dear colonel, I must leave you -to-day. I must go up to town by this evening's mail." - -"This is very sudden. Can't you manage a day or two more? Why, you have -only been three weeks with us." - -A few words from Wilton convinced his friend and host that, although -indisposed to give a reason for his sudden move, its necessity was -imperative. - -The passage in Major Moncrief's letter which had moved Wilton was as -follows: - -"Town is very full; the club brimming over; dinners going -a-begging--and, talking of dinners, I met our Monkscleugh acquaintance, -Lady Fergusson, in Regent Street, yesterday. She was in deep mourning; -it seems that unfortunate son and heir died about a month ago. Sir Peter -is in great grief; the establishment at Brosedale broken up, and the -whole family _en route_ for Germany. I wonder what has become of the -pretty lassie you picked up in the snow! I was always afraid of your -getting into some mess with her; but you have more sense than I gave you -credit for." - -The Brosedale establishment broken up! and not a line--not a word--from -Ella. Where had she gone? Did she wish to avoid him? In four days more -the three months' absence prescribed by Ella would have expired, and now -he was thrown off the scent. Had she sought and found any new -employment? If in her heart she distrusted his constancy as much as she -professed, she might have done so; or had she returned to that London -landlady whom she had described on the memorable occasion of the -snow-storm? Hold! he had noted the address somewhere. This led to a -vehement search among his papers and memoranda; but in vain. Then he sat -down and thought intensely. Kershaw?--yes, that was the name of the -woman; and Gothic Villa the name of the house at Kensington; but the -street, that he could not recall; nevertheless, he would not leave a -corner of the "old court suburb" unexplored. With this resolution he -started on his journey--the mere movement raised his spirits and -invigorated him; anything was better than the silence and endurance of -the last three months. - -He had parted with Ella Rivers in a mood curiously compounded of love, -anger, slightly-mortified vanity, but deep admiration. He felt that she -had a right to demand some test of a passion so sudden; and, without -words, her grave candor had impressed upon him the conviction that, in -asking her to share his life, he asked quite as much as he offered--a -conviction not always clear to men, even when in love. Then the respect -which her self-control, her noble simplicity, imposed upon him, deepened -and elevated the character of his affection. Above all, she was still to -be won. She had allowed him to hope; but he dared not flatter himself -that she loved him--and how wonderfully he yearned for her love!--he was -astonished at it himself. All life seemed empty and colorless without -her. About three weeks after he had left Glenraven, he had written to -let her know that he had accepted an invitation to Ireland, where he -intended to make some stay and visit his former brother-officers, -seizing gladly the excuse afforded by this change of locality; but he -had quickly received the following reply: - - - "You must faithfully keep the promise you have given. Do not in any - way seek me for three or four months. Meantime, I am well and not - unhappy. Whether we meet again or not, I shall ever think of you - kindly. May the good God guide us to what is happiest and best for - both! - - "Always your friend, - "ELLA RIVERS." - - -The small, straight, firm writing was kissed again and again, even while -he chafed against her firmness. This touch of the true magnet had drawn -all the atoms of romance, of nobility, of perception of spiritual and -intellectual light, which lay scattered, not sparingly, among the -coarser material of the man, into symmetrical circles converging to one -centre. He was softened and strengthened. He resolved to obey Ella to -the letter; and his brother-officers noticed that Wilton was much more -ready for balls and dinners and luncheon-parties than formerly; for his -character had been rather that of a "reserved, quiet fellow, with a -devil of a temper when roused." He was, nevertheless, a favorite, as -straightforward, plucky men, who never "shirk their fences" in any -sense, generally are. The neighborhood, too, where Wilton's visit was -made, was unusually wealthy and aristocratic for Ireland, so that he -had ample opportunities for "steeping" himself in the society of people -of his own class. The result, however, was that the impression he had -received sank deeper and more abidingly as time went on. And now, when -this fresh difficulty arose, he sprang forward upon the search with all -the eagerness of a sleuth-hound suddenly released from his chain. - -It was in the dim gray of a cold, drizzling morning that Wilton reached -Morley's Hotel. After a bath and breakfast, he sallied forth, in search -of Moncrief. During his long night-journey he had taken counsel with -himself as to how he should proceed. He would learn Lady Fergusson's -present address, and endeavor to ascertain from her what had become of -Ella. How he was to accomplish this without rousing her ladyship's -suspicions, he would leave to the inspiration of the moment; for it was -no part of his scheme to unmask his movements until he could really fix -his plans. This could not be done till he had seen Ella and received a -renewal of her promise; or--terrible alternative--been rejected and -overthrown! Her unaccountable silence was cruel, unfeeling, and a clear -breach of faith. Why had she not written to announce so material a -change of circumstances? Had any of the pestilent political crew that -used to surround her father started up to exercise an evil influence? -The idea fired him with indignation. He had so delighted in thinking of -her as his alone--a hidden jewel, the lustre and value and beauty of -which were for him only! Meditating thus, he reached the frugal major's -lodgings, as he did not wish at present to confront the publicity of a -club. But his friend had not yet emerged from the privacy of his -chamber, and there was only a dingy back-parlor, a sort of general -waiting-room, into which he could be shown. Wilton therefore wrote -hastily on his card, "What is Lady Fergusson's address in town?" and -sent it up to Moncrief; receiving it back again in a few minutes, with -this inscription on the reverse; "Claridge's; but I think they are gone. -Dine with me to-day at the club--seven, sharp." - -Leaving word that he could not dine with Major Moncrief, Wilton left the -house in a state of irritability and depression, and bent his steps to -Claridge's; early as it was, he might at least make inquiries there. A -yawning porter, who was sweeping the hall, called a waiter, who informed -him that "Sir Peter and Lady Fergusson, the Misses Saville and suite," -had started for Paris the day before. - -"And suite!" echoed Wilton; "I suppose that includes the governess?" - -"Yes, sir; there was a lady as went with the youngest lady in one of -the hotel broughams; she was the governess." - -"Was she a tall, thin lady, with spectacles?" - -"Just so, sir." - -"No other lady with them?" - -"No, sir--none." - -Nothing more to be learned there! He was quite afloat. No clue to the -girl who he had hoped would be, two days hence, his affianced bride, -beyond the vague address, "Mrs. Kershaw, Gothic Villa, Kensington." He -made his way slowly into Piccadilly and hailed a hansom. Kensington must -be the scene of his research, and the sooner he plunged into it the -better. - -How to begin occupied his thoughts as he bowled along. Shops, police, -and postmen, seemed the most likely sources of information; failing -these, he must manage to communicate with Miss Walker, who would -certainly know Ella's whereabouts. However, he had great faith in -himself; it was not the first time he had to hunt up a faint track, -though the difficulties were of a far different character. - -"Here we are! Where to now, sir?" cried Cabby, through the hole at the -top. - -"Oh! a--the nearest butcher's," said Wilton. "Bread and meat and tea," -he reflected, "the humblest landlady must require;" and, proud of his -own reasoning powers, he dismissed the cab, never remembering--probably -not knowing--the ready-money system, which, paying the amount and -carrying off the article, "leaves not a wrack behind." - -The important and substantial butcher, struck by the lordly bearing of -his interrogator, condescended to repeat the words "Gothic Villa" in -several keys, as though the reiteration would evoke knowledge, but ended -with, "Can't say I know any such place, sir.--Here, Smith"--to a -blue-gowned assistant, with rolled-up sleeves, who was adding "one leg -more" to an artistically arranged fringe of legs of mutton which adorned -the cornice--"do you know anything of 'Mrs. Kershaw, Gothic Villa?'" - -"Kershaw!" replied the man, pausing--"I seems as if I do, and yet I -don't." - -At this maddening reply, Wilton felt disposed to collar him and rouse -his memory by a sound shaking. - -"The person I want lets lodgings; and is, I think, elderly." - -"No, I don't," repeated the butcher's assistant. "I know Gothic 'all." - -"Ay," struck in the master, "and Gothic 'Ouse and Gothic Lodge, but no -willar. I know the place well, sir, and I don't think there is a Gothic -Willer in it. P'r'aps it's lodge, not willer, you are looking for?" - -"Then who lives at these other Gothics?" - -"Oh, Mr. Reynolds, the great ironmonger, has the 'all; and the honorable -Mrs. Croker lives at the lodge." - -"Well, neither of these names can possibly be converted into Kershaw. I -am sorry I troubled you." - -"No trouble at all, sir." - -Patiently, though anxiously, Wilton went from butcher to baker, from -baker to butterman, from butterman to milkshop, until he suddenly -exclaimed at his own stupidity, as his eye was caught by a conspicuous -brass plate bearing the inscription, "Mr. Mayers, Gas-Inspector." "By -Jove!" cried Wilton, aloud, "that is the fellow to know every house in -the parish. Why did I not think of a gas-inspector before?" - -He rang, and a smart young woman appeared at the door in a few moments. - -In his uncertainty whether he was speaking to the wife or the handmaid -of Mayers, Wilton politely raised his hat, and asked if he could see the -master of the house. - -"I am very sorry, sir, he is out, and will not be here till tea-time." - -"And when will that be?" asked the anxious querist, smiling blandly. - -"Oh, not till half-past five. Could I give any message?" replied the -lady, much impressed by the grand air and chivalrous courtesy of her -interlocutor. - -"I am afraid I must trouble Mr. Mayers myself. I shall not detain him -beyond a moment or two, if he will be so good as to see me about -half-past five." - -"Yes, sir; he will be in then and very happy to see you." - -"Perhaps you happen to know where Gothic Villa is in this neighborhood. -I am looking for a Mrs. Kershaw, Gothic Villa." - -"Kershaw? Gothic Villa? No, indeed, I do not. I have very few -acquaintances here; you see people are rather mixed in Kensington." - -"I will not keep you standing--at five-thirty, then," returned Wilton, -raising his hat, and smiling as he said to himself, "Madame the -gas-inspectress is exclusive. Such caricatures ought to cure the follies -they travesty." He looked at his watch. Two hours and a half to spare. -What should he do? Make any further search, or rely on the -gas-inspector? Yes; he would be sure to know. So, after a moment's -thought, he again called a hansom, and rattled back to the club; but -Major Moncrief was not there. Hastily scribbling an invitation to -breakfast next day, he went on to his hotel to snatch a mouthful of -luncheon or dinner, or both, for he still hoped to spend the remainder -of the evening exchanging vows, explanations--perhaps kisses--with Ella -Rivers. He had by some unreasonable process of thought convinced himself -that she could have taken refuge in no other haven than the somewhat -unromantic dwelling of Mrs. Kershaw. - -As the half-hour struck, Wilton rang again at the gas-inspector's house. -He was received by the same lady most graciously, and ushered into an -oppressively smart front parlor, profusely decorated with -anti-macassars, and mats, and table-covers. - -"Mr. Mayers will be here directly; he has only just come in. What a -disagreeable day it has been--drizzle, drizzle, the whole time! I -couldn't venture out," simpered Mrs. Mayers, who was disposed to improve -the occasion by a little conversation with her "stylish visitor," as she -described him to her husband. Wilton assented rather absently, and then, -to his great relief, Mr. Mayers came in. After a few words of apology, -Wilton put the oft-repeated question. - -"Kershaw, Gothic Villa?" repeated Mr. Mayers, meditating. "Yes, of -course, I know wellnigh every house; and it so happened I was at Mrs. -Kershaw's a week or ten days back. Why, it is in H---- Street, not far -from Holland Park. You must turn right from this, then first to your -right, and third to the left. Gothic Villa is down the end of the -street, opposite a dead wall." - -With many thanks and apologies, Wilton bowed himself out, and walked -away rapidly, his heart beating high at the idea of the meeting so near -at hand. - -Gothic Villa was not a lively residence; and, what was worse, it looked -untidy. The box borders looked as if lately trodden down in patches; the -bell was broken, and the gate hung awry, refusing, after the fashion of -crooked things, to do one thing or the other--to open wide or shut -close. Wilton felt unutterably shocked at the melancholy, sordid aspect -of the place. The bell being broken, he felt at a loss how to summon the -garrison; but while he hesitated, two little girls, in short frocks, -dingy stockings, and battered hats, came up bowling their hoops, and -began rattling their hoop-sticks noisily against the railings, whereupon -the front-door was flung suddenly wide open, and a grimy servant began -to shout some objurgations to the juveniles. - -"Pray, does Mrs. Kershaw live here?" asked Wilton, advancing to the -door. - -"No; there's no such name here." - -For a moment Wilton felt annihilated. - -"She used to live here?" - -"P'r'aps so; we've not been here above a week, and I wish we was out of -it." - -"And do you know where Mrs. Kershaw is gone?" - -"No, that I don't." - -After a little talking, she suggested that "missus" might know; but that -potentate, on being appealed to, confessed ignorance, stating, however, -that "master" might know; but "master" was absent, and would not be back -till to-morrow morning. More Wilton could not extract; and he most -reluctantly left the long-sought villa, informing the inmates that he -would call next day, hoping that "master" might be able to supply the -desired information. - -Still, with unshaken perseverance, Wilton lingered about. He stopped the -postman, but he had had no letter since the new people moved in for Mrs. -Kershaw. She had very few letters at any time--still she had some. There -was another postman that took the noonday delivery, he might know. When -did he go round? Oh, from twelve to twelve-thirty. He might know, and he -mightn't. Addresses were not given to the letter-carriers, but left at -the district office. - -"Ah! then I may probably find this Mrs. Kershaw's whereabouts at the -post-office?" - -"No, no, sir," said the man; "they won't give you no addresses at the -office, and the letters is sent on to the district where the party has -moved; so it's a chance if any of us knows." - -"At any rate, I shall be here to-morrow to meet the twelve o'clock man; -meantime I am obliged to you." - -So saying, Wilton deposited a judicious tip in the carrier's willing -hand, and made for the main road, hoping that a favorable report of him -would be given to the other carrier, and predispose him to be -communicative. - -It was long before Wilton forgot the oppressive monotony of that -evening. He could not bring himself to seek out Moncrief. He would have -him at breakfast, and that was bad enough. He strolled into the Adelphi, -and felt savage at the pathos of the play, and the fun of the -afterpiece. He left before it was finished, and returned to the -coffee-room. He tried to sketch out an advertisement addressed to Mrs. -Kershaw, but intended for Ella. He vexed himself with all kinds of -conjectures, and finally retired, hoping for oblivion in sleep, which -did not come for some weary hours; and his last waking thought was that -to-morrow would be the 19th of March, the day of the tryst, which he had -so often pictured to himself. And here he was in total ignorance of -Ella's dwelling--not a step nearer to the desired interview. The -following day was not much brighter than the one just described, and -Wilton rose with an unspeakable loathing for breakfast and -Moncrief--especially Moncrief. - -However, both had to be endured. The major was considerably puzzled by -his entertainer's preoccupation and testiness. Every subject seemed -distasteful, every person more or less offensive. - -"What's come to you, lad?" asked the old soldier. "Are you in debt -again? I thought you had left that class of troubles behind you; and you -seem to have been quiet and steady enough of late." - -"No, I am not in debt." - -"Well, I do not think you are in love; and love, or money, is at the -bottom of most troubles--eh?" - -An inaudible muttering was the only reply. - -"A--idiot?" repeated the major, thinking he caught the sound. "No, by no -means. I never said so, though there have been times when I was afraid -you would act like one. Have you seen the viscount?" - -"No." - -"I suppose you are going to call on him?" - -"No, I am not." - -"Then you are rather an idiot. Why will you throw away fortune?" - -"I am not throwing it away. He is out of town." - -"Why don't you go and pay him a visit?" - -"I cannot; he has not asked me." - -"Not asked you--bosh!--" - -"Moncrief," interrupted Wilton, "will you take some more kidney, or ham, -or coffee, or anything?" - -"No, thank you; I have breakfasted well." - -"Then go, will you? like a good fellow. You are partly right. I am in a -pickle. You shall know all about it one of these days, but I cannot tell -you just now. I have an appointment at--that is, I must be at Kensington -at twelve." - -"At twelve! Bless my soul, man, it is scarcely half-past ten now." - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -The afternoon of the same day was lowering, bleak, and drear, as a young -girl, in a long black dress fitting close to her slight figure, and -relieved at throat and wrists by a plaiting of white crape, entered a -small sitting-room at the back of one of a row of brand-new residences -in the cardboard, Tudor style, inlaid with colored bricks, and further -relieved by oriel windows. - -The young lady carried a cup full of violets, and set it upon a table -which had been moved into the window. It was crowded with materials for -watercolor drawing. A very graceful design suited to a portfolio lay -partly colored where the light fell strongest. - -The young lady, or rather Ella Rivers, stood looking at her work for a -few minutes, and then sitting down, with a deep sigh, took up her brush, -first bending lovingly over the violets until her face touched them. - -She was exceedingly pale--the pallor of thought and sorrow. Her eyes, -which looked larger than they used--perhaps because she had grown -thinner--had a weary, wistful expression, which gave pathos to the quiet -sadness of her face and figure. The last month had tried her sorely. The -sudden, fatal illness of Donald had caused her immense bodily fatigue -and real sorrow. She had grown to love the afflicted, wayward boy, even -more than she knew; and he could not bear her out of his sight, finally -breathing his last in her arms. Then, not understanding the terms which -existed between Wilton and the Fergusson family, Ella never doubted that -he was aware from the first of poor Sir Peter's bereavement and the -consequent removal of the family. His silence under such circumstances, -the absence of any attempt to seek her out, was, to her, conclusive -evidence that his sudden, violent affection for herself had passed away. -Arriving at this conviction showed her how fondly, although -unconsciously, she had hoped for his constancy. When Wilton astonished -and agitated her by his unexpected avowal, she had most truly told him -that she did not love him, that his truth or constancy was not essential -to her happiness. His frank kindness, and the interest he had shown in -her art and her conversation, had touched and diverted her. Feeling -keenly the insurmountable barrier of caste, which her reason scornfully -resented, the possibility of a man of his grade being her lover never -crossed her mind. Moreover, the habits of her life accustomed her to -men as companions, as friends, almost as playfellows, but never as -lovers. Wilton was therefore to her at first an agreeable, intelligent, -though mistaken man, blinded to the great truths of his age by his -position and his profession, but who, under higher direction, might have -been worthy the friendship of her father, Diego, and the rest of the -exalted society who passed their lives propagating theories of political -perfection and escaping the police. - -After the wonderful interview by the cairn, where he had shown that, -although past the boy-lover period, he was ready to cast all -consideration for rank and riches to the winds for her sake, she had -estimated him very differently. From his first words of love she shrunk -with an agony she could not express, so certain was she that they must -mean insult; but when his letter told her the depth and sincerity of his -affection, and she listened to the magic of his earnest pleading, she -felt bewildered and almost frightened at the ardor of the feeling she -had evoked. She could not quite believe him. She trembled at the idea of -his hurrying into the irrevocable, which he might afterward regret; and -the more she felt her heart inclined to yield, the more resolutely she -held to her determination, for both their sakes, to test the reality of -his affection. - -But when he was gone, when she was left alone with the memory of his -persuasive voice--of his bold brown eyes, softened into tenderness--of -the passion which glowed through the earnest respect of his -manner--whatever of indifference she had felt or assumed in their -interview fast faded away, or rather warmed into real interest, and -trembling, half-fearful liking. Then the question of his constancy -assumed an absorbing importance. The perpetual struggle in her mind to -resist the delightful suggestions of hope kept the subject constantly -before her; and the bitterest trial she had ever known was the gradual -fading away of the hopes that had formed themselves in spite of her, -when week after week slipped past and no tidings reached her from Ralph -Wilton. Of course he knew that she must leave Brosedale, and must also -know that under no circumstances would she take the first step toward -the renewal of their intercourse. - -Working round this dreary circle of thought, she sat motionless, pencil -in hand, too absorbed to notice the entrance of a woman of a certain -age, who by her costume evidently aimed at the higher appellation of a -lady. She wore a handsome plum-colored silk, a tint which appears to be -the especial favorite of publicans' wives and aspiring landladies. Her -head--a high, narrow, self-asserting sort of head--was perched on a -long, thin neck, and adorned with a scanty screw of hair on the top, -secured by a high tortoise-shell comb, while the front tresses were -disposed in short, wiry ringlets, painfully suggestive of steel springs, -and carefully regulated by ancient contrivances called side-combs. These -locks vibrated when she moved; and as her walk was a succession of jerky -sinkings and risings, the ringlets had an active time of it. Her -features were regular and good, but somewhat neutralized by a faint -expression of constantly turning up her nose, which was anything but -_retroussé_, as if in contemptuous indignation at the futile efforts of -the world in general to take her in. This personage paused as she was -half across the little room, and looked very sharply at its occupant's -profile, which was turned to her. - -"Anyways, you ain't breaking your heart with hard work," she exclaimed, -in a tone which would have been painfully acute but for a slight -indistinctness caused by a melancholy gap where pearly front teeth ought -to have been. - -Ella started at her voice, and a large tear, which some time, unknown to -her, had hung upon her eyelashes, fell upon the edge of her paper. She -looked at it dismayed; half an inch nearer, and it would have played -havoc with her colors. She hastily placed her handkerchief on the fatal -spot, and, turning toward the speaker, said, absently: "Working! Yes, -Mrs. Kershaw; I am succeeding tolerably with this design; I am quite -interested in it." - -"And that is the reason you are crying over it--eh?" - -"Crying! Oh, no"--smiling a little sadly--"I am not crying." - -"Something very like it, then," said Mrs. Kershaw, advancing to the -table and looking critically at Ella's work. "It's a queer thing," she -remarked, with high-toned candor. "What is it for?" - -"Oh, the cover of a book, or--the back of a portfolio." - -"Well, I suppose it's my ignorance; but I can't see the beauty of it. -Why, there's dozens and dozens of things just like that ready printed in -all the shops; and you don't suppose hand-work can hold its own with -machine-work? Why don't you paint a house, and a tree, and a -cow--something sensible-like--that would set off a nice, handsome frame? -I wouldn't mind buying such a picture myself; my first floor is a trifle -naked for want of pictures." - -"O Mrs. Kershaw!" exclaimed Ella, smiling, this time more brightly, for -she was amused at her friend's notions of art; "I assure you an original -design is not to be despised. If I can but find favor with--" - -"Ay, that's just it. It would take a heap of bits of pictures to make a -living. I must say I think you was a fool not to look out for something -steady right off, when the ladies as could have recommended you was -here; this will be hard work and poor work." - -"Nevertheless, I am determined to try it," said Ella, firmly, though -sadly. "You cannot tell the imprisonment a great house is to me; -besides, you forget poor Sir Peter Fergusson's generosity. I can afford -to board with you for six or eight months, and then, if all my efforts -to earn my bread by my art fail, I can still ask Miss Walker's help. I -am not in your way, good friend, am I?" - -"Well, no. I am not that selfish, like many, as would try to keep you -here when it would be better for you to be away; but you are not like -other girls, the place is different when you are in it; and the trifle -you pay is more than the trifle difference you make. It was about -yourself--what is best for you--I was thinking." - -"Do not think of me," returned Ella, placing her elbow on the table and -resting her head on her hand despondently; "I am so weary of myself." - -"Now there is something come to you quite different from what used to -be. And you are that pale and thin, and don't eat nothing. There's some -of those grandedees" (such was Mrs. Kershaw's pronunciation) "been -talking nonsense, and you have been, and gone, and been fool enough to -heed them, in spite of all the talking to I gave you before you went to -Sir Peter's. They are all alike. If you was a hangel, with a wing -sprouting out of each shoulder, and as beautiful as--as anythink, the -poorest scrap of a gentleman among them that hadn't as much gumption as -would earn a crust costermongering would laugh at the notion of putting -a ring on your finger. No, no; as much love as you like without that. I -knows 'em, the proud, upsetting, lazy lot, I do;" and Mrs. Kershaw -stopped with a jerk, more for want of breath than lack of matter. - -"You need not distress yourself," returned Ella, with a smile of quiet -scorn. "No one insulted me at Brosedale; and I _did_ keep your good -advice in mind. I am depressed, nor can you wonder at it when you think -of the sad scenes I went through with poor Donald." - -"Well, well, anyhow you won't open your mind to me, though I fancy I am -your best friend, and your only friend into the bargain, though I say it -as shouldn't," retorted Mrs. Kershaw, with some asperity. - -"You are, indeed," said Ella, sweetly. "So instead of quarrelling with -me for not telling you a romantic tale, tell me some of your own -affairs; any one about the rooms yet?" - -"I believe," said Mrs. Kershaw, a shade less severely--"I believe I'm -let." - -This startling announcement did not in the least move Miss Rivers from -her gravity; she merely observed, sympathetically, "I am very glad." - -"This morning, when you was out, a lady and gentleman called, and looked -at the rooms, and made rather a stiff bargain. They said they would call -again; but the gentleman gave me his card, and that looked like -business." - -"I suppose so. I went over to Kensington this morning to see the -postman. I thought it was as well to tell him our new address, in case -there might be a letter for me." - -"A letter for you!" repeated Mrs. Kershaw, in a sharp key, with a sudden -nod that set her ringlets dancing. "I thought Miss Walker knew we was -moved." - -"She does; still it is possible some old friend--" - -"Hoh!" said Mrs. Kershaw, ironically. "Are you sure it ain't a new -friend--a Scotch friend? I know I haven't no right to ask, but--" - -"Ah, suspicious one!" interrupted Ella, laughing. "If none of my -father's old friends seek me out, no one else will." - -"There's the front-door bell!" cried Mrs. Kershaw, excitedly; "that's -the lady and gent come back about my first floor"--a pause ensued, a -rapid but heavy tread, and the opening of the door was heard. - -The next moment that of the room in which they were was flung violently -open, and the "girl" announced a "gentleman for Miss Rivers." - -Whereupon a tall figure seemed to fill up the door-way, and for a moment -Ella felt dizzy and blinded with astonishment, with mingled joy and -terror, as Colonel Wilton entered and stood still. - -"Hoh!" said Mrs. Kershaw; "do you know this gentleman, or is he after -the apartments?" - -"I know him. I--" faltered Ella. - -"Hoh!" again said Mrs. Kershaw, and, turning back, walked straight out -of the room with dignity. - -Wilton closed the door after her, and, advancing to the agitated girl, -exclaimed, with a tinge of sternness, "Ella, have you hid from me -purposely?" - -"Hid from you? No; you knew where to find me when poor Donald died." - -"Which I first heard of in Ireland two days ago." - -"Two days ago!" faltered Ella, the truth dawning on her. "I thought you -would have known of it directly. I thought you did not write because you -did not wish to see me again. I--oh, listen to me, understand me!" -clasping her hand with a restrained eagerness very impressive--"do not -think I would willingly have caused you the slightest uneasiness from -any petty idea of standing on my dignity; but, indeed, I was puzzled -what to do, and then believing, as I did, that you must have been -informed of Donald's death and the breaking up of Sir Peter's -establishment, I concluded that you had changed your plans--your -views--your--oh, I could not write to you! Do you not see I could not?" - -"I can only repeat that two days ago I did not know of that poor boy's -death. And, but for a few words in a letter from Moncrief, I should have -started for Monkscleugh to keep the tryst. Now, Ella, are you glad to -see me? do you believe me?"--as he spoke Wilton took both her hands, and -looked eagerly into the eyes so frankly, but gravely, raised to his. - -"I do believe you," said Ella, trying to speak steadily, and striving to -hold back the tears that would well up, to suppress the wild throbbing -of the heart which visibly heaved her bosom, to be calm, and mistress of -herself in this crisis; but it was more than even her brave spirit could -accomplish; the sudden change from darkness to light, from isolation to -companionship, was too overwhelming; and yet she would not show the -shattered condition of her forces. "I am glad to see you"--her lip -quivered, great unshed tears, brimming over, hung sparkling on her long -lashes as she spoke; and Wilton, gazing at the sweet face and slight, -graceful figure, felt in his inmost soul the pathos of her controlled -emotion. - -"By Heaven, Ella! you are not indifferent to me," he exclaimed. Drawing -her to him, he raised her hands to clasp his neck; and, folding his arms -round her, pressed her passionately to his heart. "My love, my life! why -do you distrust me? Give me your heart! give me yourself. Are you ready -to fulfil your more than half promise? I have kept the tryst. I have -submitted to the test you have imposed; and now, what further barrier is -there between me and happiness? Do you love me, Ella? Will you love me?" - -She did not attempt to move. She leaned against him, silently, trembling -very much; at length she sighed deeply. - -"If you are quite sure of yourself," she almost whispered, "and not -afraid of linking yourself with so isolated a creature as I am, I am -ready to keep my word, as you have kept yours!" - -"And you love me?" asked Wilton, bending over her, hungering for her -assurance. - -She extricated herself gently from him, still leaving her hand in his. - -"I will love you," she replied, looking away, and speaking thoughtfully. -Then, suddenly turning, and meeting his eyes with a grand frankness, "I -_do_ love you," she said, in her sweet, firm tones; "and I think you -deserve my love! If you do not, out with love and life, and everything! -I shall never believe more." - -She pressed her hands over her eyes, and for a moment Wilton's -passionate longing to cover her mouth, her cheek, her brow, with kisses, -was checked by the earnestness, the solemnity of her words; it was but a -moment, the next she was in his arms, his lips clinging to hers as -though he could never drink enough of their sweetness. - -"And how did you find me?" asked Ella, when at last she managed to -withdraw from his embrace, and began to gather her drawing materials -together as a diversion from the strange, sweet embarrassment of the new -relations existing between them. - -Wilton replied by recapitulating the search he had made, up to the -miserable night before. - -"When I arrived at Gothic Villa this morning," he went on, "I was -considerably before the time of the second delivery; but at last I met -the postman, and explained myself to him. 'Gothic Villa, Kershaw,' he -repeated. 'Now that's curious. Not ten minutes ago I met a young lady -what used to be at Gothic Villa, and she wanted to give me her new -address, but I told her she must leave it at the district office.' You -may guess the questions I put, and how I gathered that the young lady -was yourself. He had a confused idea you said your abode was in Belinda -Terrace, Notting Hill, and I have been for nearly the last three hours -endeavoring to discover it. Finding there was no such place as Belinda -Terrace, I tried my luck in Melina Crescent, and, after knocking and -ringing at eleven doors, found the right one at last!" - -"Then had I walked down the street, instead of meeting the postman at -the top of it, I should have met you," said Ella, pausing in her -occupation, with her design in her hand. - -"Yes; and saved me three hours of torture," exclaimed Wilton. "What have -you there? This is a very charming design; quite your own?" - -"Yes, quite. Some days ago I took a much smaller one to a shop in ---- -Street, and the man there gave me two pounds and two shillings for it. -Then he asked me to bring him something else, larger and richer, so I -have been trying to sketch something better." - -"My own darling," said Wilton, taking it from her; "this sort of thing -is over now. No more work for you." - -"Why not?" she returned. "You say, dear friend, that you are not rich. -If I am really to be your comrade through life, why may I not earn some -money for us both? Life without work must be very dull." - -"When you are my wife, you will see such things are impossible," said -Wilton, laying aside the sketch, and drawing her to his side on a -little, hard, horsehair, lodging-house sofa. "I have so much to say, so -much to urge on you, I hardly know where to begin." - -Whereupon he plunged into a rapid statement of his plans, his hopes, -his strong conviction that, calmly and dispassionately considered, her -position and his own rendered an immediate marriage absolutely and -imperatively necessary. She had no one to consult, nor any protector to -rely upon save himself, and the sooner he had a legal claim to be her -protector the better. As to himself, no one had a right to interfere -with him; nevertheless, there was an old man, a relative, who might make -himself disagreeable if he had time. After marriage, all objections, -interference, or meddlings, would be useless. - -"I have a favorite sister to whom I shall write at once," concluded -Wilton, "but she is away in Canada. So, dearest, why should we submit to -the discomfort of needless delay? I shall have a renewal of leave, but -only for a couple of months, part of which must be spent in effecting an -exchange into some regiment in India, or going there. You see there will -be little left for the honeymoon. What do you say to this day week?" - -Wilton felt the hand he held suddenly tighten on his with a quick, -startled pressure. - -"Yes," he went on; "there is no possible objection. You have been at -least three weeks in this parish, which is, I believe, the legal -requirement. There is, then, no impediment; and, though it seems very -like urging you to take a leap in the dark, you must either trust me -altogether or throw me over. We are too peculiarly situated to perform -the cold-blooded ceremony of cultivating each other's acquaintance; we -must do that, as I believe all people really do, after rather than -before marriage. Besides, I am so desperately afraid of your melting -away out of my grasp, as you had nearly done just now, that I am -determined not to lose my hold." - -"Listen to me," said Ella, drawing away her hand and pressing it to her -brow. "You mentioned a relative to whom your marriage might be painful. -Do you owe this old man love and respect? I think, if you do, it is hard -to those who feel they ought to be considered to find an utter stranger -preferred." - -"Lord St. George has not the shadow of a claim on my love or respect," -returned Wilton, rising and pacing to and fro; "and if he had it would -not influence me. Now that you have really consented to be my wife, -nothing save death shall come between us." - -There was in his voice, and look, and gesture, such fire and resolution -that a sudden sense of being in the presence of something stronger than -herself thrilled Ella with a strange fear and pleasure. She closed her -eyes, and her hands, that had clasped each other tightly, relaxed as she -felt her life had passed from her own keeping into another's. Wilton, -who had paused opposite her, saw how deeply she was moved. - -"Look at me, Ella!" he exclaimed, taking her hands in his--"look at me! -You are too nobly frank to hesitate as to a day sooner or later in the -fulfilment of your promise." - -She turned to him; and, with a wistful, earnest look straight into his -eyes, said, in a low, firm voice: - -"So be it! I will keep my word when and where you like." - -Two days after, Major Moncrief, who had only seen Wilton once for a few -minutes in the interim, awaited him by appointment at Morley's, where -they they were to dine. - -"Why, what the deuce are you so desperately busy about?" asked the -major, as Wilton hastily apologized for not having been ready to receive -his friend. - -"Oh, I have a hundred things in hand. I have had to 'interview' my -lawyer, and then I have been with Box and Brushwood about exchanging -into a regiment under orders for India--and--but the rest after dinner." - -"Why, what are you up to now?" replied Moncrief, but not in the tone of -a man that expects a direct reply. - -Dinner passed very agreeably, for Wilton was in brilliant spirits. Not -for many a year had Moncrief see him so bright. - -"I believe this is the same room we dined in the day you started for -Monkscleugh, and had the smash?" observed Moncrief, as the waiter, -having placed dessert on the table, left the friends together. - -"It is," said Wilton, looking round. "That is rather curious; and I -remember your saying, 'I must dree my weird.' Well, Moncrief, I have -dreed it, and I asked you here to-day to tell you the history, and -receive your blessing or malediction, as the case may be." - -Setting down his glass of port untasted, the major stared at his friend -with an air of dismay and bewilderment. - -"Courage, man!" continued Wilton, laughing at his consternation; "I am -not in debt--only in love, and going to be married on Thursday next." - -"To be married! You--who could not oblige your pleasant relative, Lord -St. George, because of your invincible objection to lose your liberty?" - -"Well, the liberty is gone long ago; so my only plan is to surrender at -discretion, or, rather, without discretion. You remember a young lady we -met at Brosedale--the lassie, in short, whom I picked out of the snow?" - -"What! that pale-faced, dark-eyed little girl--young Fergusson's -companion or drawing-mistress? Why, she was scarcely pretty." - -"Just so. Well, I am going to marry her on Thursday. Will you come to -the wedding?" - -Wilton had poured out a bumper of claret as he spoke, and, with a -slight, defiant nod, drank it off. - -"By ----!" exclaimed Moncrief, who did not generally use strong -language; "I am astonished. When did you decide on this preposterous -piece of foolery?" - -"I put things in train last December, but the date was not decided till -two days ago." - -"Ha! I thought I smelt a rat just before I left Glenraven; but I never -dreamed of anything so serious. You are the last man I should have -accused of such idiotic weakness. Who is this girl?" - -"I do not know." - -"Who was her father?" - -"A political adventurer, I believe; but I really do not know." - -"Who are her friends?" - -"She has none." - -"And, my God! Wilton, are you going to link yourself for life to a woman -you know nothing about--who may have a murderer for her father and a -harlot for a mother--who may be an unprincipled adventuress herself, for -aught you know?" - -"Go on," said Wilton, calmly. "I know you have a good deal more to say, -and I am quite prepared to hear it." - -"Can you be such a besotted blockhead at this time of life, after having -got over the wild-goose period, and not so badly either; when you have -just been offered your first good chance, when a sensible marriage is so -important, as to throw every consideration to the dogs for a madness -that probably a month or two will cure, and leave you two-thirds of a -lifetime to eat your heart out with useless regret? You know I do not -pretend to despise women, or to talk cynical rot about them; they are -generally good, useful creatures, and deucedly pleasant sometimes; but, -God bless my soul, lad! they are of no real importance in a man's life. -It is very essential to marry the right sort of girl, I grant--that is, -a well-bred, healthy, good-looking lassie in your own grade of life, you -will bring a good connection to back up your children; but to rush into -matrimony--downright legal matrimony--with a creature that scarcely -knows who she is herself, because, indeed, you think no other 'she' in -creation so likely to suit you, is a pitiable piece of lunacy. Come! in -the name of common-sense, of self-respect, be a man! Tell me how you -stand with this girl, and let me see if I can't get you out of the -scrape." - -"Have you quite done?" asked Wilton, leaning back in his chair without -the slightest symptom of irritation. - -"I have." - -"Then hear me, Moncrief! I do not dispute a syllable you say. It is all -unanswerable--just what I should say myself to another fellow on the -brink of such a leap in the dark. Don't suppose I am blind to the -apparent folly I am about to commit. But I'll do it! Nothing can hold me -back! I shall not attempt to explain to you the sort of fascination Ella -Rivers has had for me from the first moment we met; it would be speaking -an unknown tongue, even if I could put it into language. But if her -people were all you picture, by Heaven! I do not think I could give her -up. Foolish lunatic--besotted as you choose to think me, I have full -faith in the woman who will be my wife before five days are over. There! -Consider the question 'to be or not to be' settled. Pity my idiotic -folly as you will, but do not discard your old _protégé_. I want your -advice on one or two points." - -"But, Wilton, I must--" began the major. - -"Don't," interrupted Wilton. "Remonstrance is sheer loss of time and -breath; if you persist, I will leave you to finish your port alone." - -Moncrief succumbed, though with an ill grace, and Wilton proceeded to -lay the question of exchange into a regiment already in India, or one -about to proceed there, before his ancient mentor, and gradually drew -him into better humor, especially as he noted that Wilton's professional -ambition was by no means dulled or engulfed by the tide of passion that -swept him away in another direction. - -"Well, I never thought I should find you looking forward contentedly to -a life in India," said the major, after a long and animated talk, anent -the _pros_ and _cons_ of Wilton's views; "you used to long for a stake -in the 'old countrie.'" - -"Yes; but that was because Lord St. George put it into my head. Now, -that is at an end." - -"Ah! just so--this infernal marriage! What do you intend to do with him, -eh?" - -"I have not given it a thought--or, rather, scarcely a thought. I will -marry first, and decide after. I tell you candidly, Moncrief, when first -I made up my mind to risk everything, rather than part with Ella, I had -a stupid, cowardly idea of a private marriage; but I soon gave that up; -it was too deucedly ungentlemanlike; and then Ella would despise even a -shadow of double-dealing! No; when we are married, and I have time, I -will write to the old viscount, and--" - -"By George! this is too bad," cried the major, getting up and pacing -the room in an agony. "Fortune, and fair prospects, and--and everything -flung overboard, for the sake of a white-faced bit of a girl that you -would forget in two months if you made the first stand. It's like giving -up drink or cigars; the first week is the brunt of the battle!" - -"Don't talk blasphemy," returned Wilton, sternly; "nor waste time and -breath." - -"Well, well!" resumed the rebuked major; "look here, do not be in too -great a hurry to write to the old peer. I met St. George Wilton to-day; -he told me Lord St. George was down at Brandestone, and very shaky; -perhaps you had better not write to him till the honeymoon is over. O -Lord! won't you be ready to cut your throat when you get his answer! But -I trust he will die, and leave you the property in the meantime." - -"He will not do that," said Wilton, gravely. "But, tell me, what is St. -George doing in town? I hate that fellow instinctively." - -"Oh, he was only passing through _en route_ to join some 'Lord knows -who' at Cowes, to cruise somewhere in his yacht, and--Where are you -going?" - -"Why, you will not take any more wine, and, as I have not seen Ella -to-day, I thought I would just run down and bid her good-night. Come -with me, old fellow, do! I'd take it as a real bit of good-fellowship; -she would be so pleased. You may as well submit to the inevitable with a -good grace." - -"Go with you to see this--ahem!--fascinating little witch? Not to get -the step I've been waiting for these seven years." - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -The extremely sudden and unorthodox character of Ella's nuptials was a -source of irritation, not to say dismay, to the worthy Mrs. Kershaw. She -took, upon the whole, a desponding and distrustful view of human nature; -and, instead of meeting Ella's smiling, blushing account of Colonel -Wilton's visit and her engagement to him, with effusive sympathy, she -had nodded her head and knitted her brows, asked a dozen questions, and -received the replies in ominous silence; at last spoke as follows: - -"Well, I hope it's all right" (the "hope" in italics), "but it's -curious--very curious. Are you quite sure he is Colonel Wilton?" - -"Yes." - -"How do you know?" - -"Because he was frequently at Brosedale, and known to Sir Peter -Fergusson." - -"Ay, to be sure, that's true! I suppose it's to be a private marriage. -We must see that it is quite correct, for, high or low, a wife has her -rights. What did he say about going to church?" - -"Oh! I scarcely know; something about my having been three weeks in the -parish, and--" - -"Did he?" returned Mrs. Kershaw; a more satisfied expression stealing -over her face. "That looks like business, only I trust and hope he has -not a wife already." - -"What a fearful suspicion!" replied Ella, shuddering, while she smiled. -"He was looked upon as an unmarried man at Brosedale, for I remember -that Donald remarked that Miss Saville could find time to amuse him now, -because Colonel Wilton condescended to visit him, and that he would be a -peer, a nobleman, one day." - -"A peer! a lord! well, I never! Of all the queer turns, this is the -queerest. Still, I would like to make sure that there is no hitch -nowhere. But, bless your heart, no gentleman or nobleman would go to -church with a girl unless he was all square." - -"I must trust him utterly, or not at all, he said. I do trust him," said -Ella, softly, to herself, "even as he trusts me." She was sitting on the -hearth-rug, gazing dreamily at a small but bright morsel of fire held -together by fire-bricks. - -"Trust is a word I never liked," observed Mrs. Kershaw, who was sitting -bolt upright in an easy chair. "Ready money, in everything, is my motto; -still, I must say, this gentleman seems straightforward." Mrs. -Kershaw's opinions had become visibly modified since the rank of her -fair _protégé's_ intended had been revealed to her. - -"I think he is," said Ella, simply. - -"Anyhow, I will speak to him myself to-morrow," continued Mrs. Kershaw, -"and let him know you have a friend to look after you as knows the -world," she added, emphatically. Silence ensued; for, in truth, Ella was -too glad of the cessation of Mrs. Kershaw's wiry voice to break it, when -that lady burst out again with a jerk: "You'd best take my parlors--they -ought to be thirty shillings a week, but I will give them to you for a -guinea." - -"But why must I take them?" asked Ella. - -"Because-- Why, my patience, Miss Rivers, you are not going to turn -stingy, and you going to be a great lady. Why must you take them? -Because it is only decent and proper; there's scarce room to turn round -in a three-cornered cupboard like this place. I'm sure a fine, handsome -man like the colonel hasn't room to move here; and then for the wedding. -This day week did you say? Why, whatever shall we do about wedding -clothes? Still I wouldn't say nothing about putting off; you'd better -strike while the iron is hot! But _have_ you thought of the wedding -clothes, Miss Rivers?" - -"No, I do not want any. I have more clothes than I ever had in my life -before." - -"I declare to goodness you are the strangest young girl--lady I mean--I -ever met; so mean-spirited, in a manner of speaking, in one way, and no -more knowing the value of money in another, than a half-saved creature! -Why, you have nothing but blacks and grays." - -"And may I not marry in gray; but if it is right I shall be very pleased -to have a pretty new dress and bonnet; I have quite money enough, you -know." - -"Well, I must say it is aggravating that we can't have a regular spread, -and carriages and favors; wouldn't that nasty, humbugging, -stuck-up-thing, Mrs. Lewis, over the way, that is always insinuating -that I haven't laid down new stair-carpeting because I couldn't spare -the money--wouldn't she be ready to eat her own head off because she -wouldn't be asked to step across?" - -But in spite of Major Moncrief and Mrs. Kershaw, Ralph Wilton had his -way, and they were married on the appointed day. The major was so far -mollified that he stood by his favorite "boy" on the memorable occasion; -nay, more, with some hesitation he produced a pair of lump gold -ear-rings, largely sprinkled with turquoise, as a small and appropriate -gift to his friend's bride, when, to the dismay of all present, it was -found that the pretty little ears they were destined to adorn had never -been pierced. - -"It is no matter," said Ella, taking his hand in both hers, "I should -rather keep them, just the very things you thought of, than let them be -changed! You like me for his sake now; you may yet like me for myself." - -To this the major gravely replied that he did not doubt it, and watched -her with observant eyes during the ceremony. The keen old soldier was -touched and impressed by the steady composure of her manner, the low, -clear music of her firm tones. It seemed to him as if she had considered -the value of each vow, and then took it willingly; he was surprised when -the service was concluded, and he again took her hand to find that, -although outwardly calm, she was trembling from head to foot. - -They returned to Mrs. Kershaw's house, where that excellent housewife -had provided a comfortable and appetizing luncheon--the major having the -honor of escorting her back. "I can tell you, sir," he used to say in -after-years, when recounting the episode, "I felt devilish queer when I -handed the landlady into the brougham and took my place beside her. If -she had been a buxom widow, or a gushing spinster, I could have stood it -better; but she was such a metallic female! her hair curled up so -viciously, and there was such a suspicious, contemptuous twist in her -nose, as if she was perpetually smelling a rat, that I was afraid to -speak to her. I know I made an ass of myself. I remember saying -something about my friend's good luck, thinking to propitiate her, but -she nearly snapped my head off, observing that time would show whether -either of them was in luck or not." - -The luncheon, however, was duly appreciated by the mollified major, Mrs. -Kershaw herself, and, we regret to add, the bridegroom, who was in -radiant spirits. There was something contagious in his mood--something -inspiriting in the joy that rioted in his bright brown eyes--even Mrs. -Kershaw lit up under his influence, and for awhile forgot the suspicious -character of the human race. But the repast was soon over. Wilton was -anxious to catch the tidal train, and Ella went obediently to don her -bonnet and travelling-gear. - -"Look at this, Moncrief," said Wilton, when they were alone, holding out -a miniature in a slightly-faded morocco case; "it is a picture of Ella's -father." - -Moncrief scrutinized it with much interest. An exquisitely painted -portrait, it represented a dreamy, noble face, dark as a Spaniard, with -black-blue eyes, closely resembling his daughter's, a delicately-cut, -refined mouth, unshaded by moustache, and a trifle too soft for a man; -the turn of the head, the whole bearing more than conventionally -aristocratic, picturesquely grand. - -"There is no question about it, Wilton, this man looks every inch a -gentleman. Have you any idea who the mother was?" - -"Not the most remote. I do not think Ella has an idea herself; she says -she had a charming picture of her mother, but it disappeared soon after -they came to London, and she has never been able to find it. She has a -box full of letters and papers up stairs, and, when we return, I shall -look through them and try to trace her father's history, just to satisfy -my sister and yourself. Ella will always be the same to me, ancestry or -no ancestry." - -"By-the-way, where are you going?" said the major. - -"Oh! to Normandy--to a little out-of-the-way place within a few miles -from A----, called Vigères. There is very good salmon-fishing in the -neighborhood, and we shall be quiet." - -"When shall you be back?" - -"I cannot tell; I suppose I must not take more than six weeks' holiday." - -"Well, I would not write to old St. George till you come back." - -"I am not sure about that; I--" - -"Here is Miss--I mean Mrs. Wilton," interrupted Moncrief. - -With sweet, grave simplicity, Ella offered a parting kiss to her -husband's friend. Mrs. Kershaw stepped jauntily to open the door. A -hearty hand-pressure from Moncrief, whose rugged countenance was -sorrowfully sympathetic, and the newly-wedded pair were away. - -"Won't you step in, sir, and take another glass of wine?" said Mrs. -Kershaw, with startling hospitality, to the uneasy major, who felt in -comparative captivity, and by no means equal to the occasion. - -"No; I am much obliged to you," said the major, edging toward the door. - -"A little bit of pigeon-pie, or a mouthful of cheese, or a drop of stout -to wind up with," persisted Mrs. Kershaw. "You may say what you like, -there's nothing picks you up like a drop of stout." - -"No, I thank you; nothing more." - -"I hope everything was to the colonel's satisfaction?" resumed Mrs. -Kershaw, with an angular smile. - -"He would have been hard to please if he had not been satisfied," -returned the major, with grovelling servility; and, taking up his hat, -tried, by a flank movement, to get between the enemy and his line of -retreat. - -"I am sure he is a real gentleman, and knows how to behave as sich. It -is a pleasure to deal with liberal, right-minded people, what isn't -forever haggling over sixpences and shillings. But, between you and me, -sir, though I am none of your soft-spoken, humbugging sort, I never did -meet the match of Miss Ella--Mrs. Wilton, I mean--she is that good and -steady, a wearin' of herself to the bone for any one that wants. And for -all the colonel's a fine man, and a pleasant man, and an open-handed -man, if ever he takes to worriting or bla'guarding, I would help her -through the divorce-court with the last shilling that ever I've scraped -together rising early and working hard; you mind that." - -With these emphatic words, Mrs. Kershaw flung the door suddenly wide -open, and the major, bowing, hastily shot into the street, with a -rapidity more creditable to Mrs. Kershaw's eloquence than his own -steadiness under fire. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -Oh! the bliss of those early days! The strange sweetness of their new -companionship! The weather, too, was propitious--balmy and mild, though -spring was yet young, with unutterable freshness and hope in its breath -and coloring. The delicious sense of safety from all intruders; the -delight of being at home with Ella; of winning her complete confidence. -Never before had Wilton tasted the joy of associating with a woman who -was neither a toy nor a torment, but a true, though softer, comrade, -whose every movement and attitude charmed and satisfied his taste, and -whose quick sense of beauty, of character, and of the droll sides of -things, gave endless variety to their every-day intercourse. - -Theirs was no mere fool's paradise of love and kisses. Sketching and -fishing, the days flew by. Wilton had decided that the little inn at -Vigères was too noisy and uncomfortable to be endured, and Ella had -found lodgings in the house of a small proprietor, who sometimes -accommodated lovers of the gentle craft, and, moreover, found favor in -the eyes of the landlord and his bright-eyed, high-capped Norman cook -and house-keeper, her fluent French and knowledge of foreign housewifery -exciting admiration and respect. It was a straggling, gray-stone -edifice, just outside the village, with a very untidy yard behind, and a -less untidy garden in front, where a sun-dial, all mossed and -lichen-covered, was half buried in great, tangled bushes of roses and -fuchsias; on this a large, scantily-furnished _salon_ looked out, and -beyond the garden on an undulating plain, with the sea and Mont St. -Michel in the blue distance, with a dark mass of forest on the uplands -to the south--a wide stretch of country, ever changing its aspect, as -the broad shadows of the slow or quick-sailing clouds swept over it, or -the level rays of the gradually lengthening sunset bathed it with the -peculiar yellow, golden spring light, so different from the rich red -tinge of autumn. Winding round the base of the abrupt hill on which -Vigères, like so many Norman villages, was perched, was a tolerably -large stream, renowned in the neighborhood, and, though left to take -care of itself, still affording fair sport. It led away through a -melancholy wood and some wide, unfenced pasturage, to the neglected -grounds of a chateau, with the intendant of which, Wilton, aided by -Ella, held many a long talk on farming, politics, and every subject -under the sun. - -These rambles had an inexpressible charm--a mingled sense of freedom -and occupation. Then the repose of evening, as night closed in; the -amusement of watching Ella at her work or drawing; to lead her on to -unconsciously picturesque reminiscences; to compare their utterly -different impressions and ideas--for Ella was not self-opinionated; -though frank and individual, she was aware her convictions were but the -echo of those she had heard all her life, and she listened with the -deepest interest to her husband's, even while she did not agree. These -pleasant communings were so new to Wilton, so different from all his -former experience, that perhaps time has seldom sped on so lightly -during a honeymoon. Ella was utterly unconventional, and yet a -gentlewoman to the core, transparently candid, and, if such a term can -be permitted, gifted with a noble homeliness that made affectation, or -assumption, or unreality of any kind, impossible to her. Whether she -made a vivid, free translation from some favorite Italian poet at -Wilton's request, or took a lesson from him in tying flies, or gave him -one in drawing, or dusted their sitting-room, or (as Wilton more than -once found her) did some bit of special cooking in the big, brown -kitchen, while Manon looked on, with her hands in her apron-pockets, -talking volubly, she was always the same--quiet, earnest, doing her very -best, with the inexpressible tranquillity of a single purpose. Then the -shy tenderness and grace of her rare caresses--the delicate reserve that -had always something yet to give, and which not even the terrible ordeal -of wedded intimacy could scorch up--these were elements of an -inexhaustible charm--at least to a man of Wilton's calibre. - -It was evening--the evening of a very bright, clear day. Wilton had -started early on a distant expedition, with a son of their host for a -guide, and had returned to a late dinner. It had been too long a walk -for Ella to undertake, and now she sat beside her husband under the -window of their _salon_, in the violet-scented air of an April night, as -it grew softly dusk. Wilton was enjoying pleasant rest, after just -enough fatigue to make it welcome, and watching, with a lazy, luxurious -sense of satisfaction, the movements of Ella's little deft fingers, as -she twisted some red ribbon into an effective bow, and pinned it upon an -edifice of lace, which Wilton could not quite make out. - -"What can that thing be for, Ella? You are not going to wear it?" he -asked, at last. - -"Wear it? Oh, no! It is for Manon; she begged me to make her a Parisian -cap. I advised her to keep to her charming Norman head-dress; but no! -Monsieur le Curé's house-keeper has a cap from Paris, and Manon is not -to be outdone; so she gave me the lace, and I contributed the ribbon. -Do you know, this lace is very lovely? Look at it." - -"I suppose it is; but I am glad to find you admire lace; I was afraid -you were above dress." - -"Indeed I am not; but I always liked--I had almost said loved--lace. I -would prefer lace to jewels, if the choice were offered me. And then a -hat or a bonnet is a source of joy, if they suit me." - -"And we have been here nearly a month--" - -"A month yesterday," observed Ella, softly, with a happy smile. - -"Time passes quickly in paradise," said Wilton, leaning caressingly -toward his companion.--"But, I was going to say, we have been here a -month, and you have never had a chance of shopping. It is a dear delight -to shop, is it not?" - -"I do not know," replied Ella, laughing, and turning her work to view it -on all sides. "I never had any money to spend in shops." - -"I should like to see you under fire--I mean in temptation. Suppose we -go over to A---- for a day or two: that is the nearest approach to a -dazzling scene we can manage?" - -"As you like; but, dear Ralph"--looking wistfully out over the -garden--"I love this place, and am loath to take even a day from the few -that remain to us here. I suppose we must soon leave for London?" - -"You would like to stay here always?" - -"No," returned Ella, "certainly not; stagnation would not suit either of -us, though I deeply enjoy this sweet resting-place. It will soon be time -to move on." - -"We have a fortnight still before us, so we will run over to A---- -to-morrow. Our host can lend us his _shandradan_, with that monstrous -gray mare, to drive over there. I know you expressed a great wish to -sketch some of those picturesque old towers as we came through, and you -shall buy some lace if you like. I have had so much fishing that I shall -come back with renewed zest after a short break." - -"Yes; I should greatly like to take some sketches in A----; but, as to -buying lace, do you know we spend a quantity of money here--I am -astonished and shocked to think how much?" - -"Then I am afraid I have been a very extravagant fellow, for I do not -think I ever spent so little in the same space of time before. But, -talking of money reminds me I must write to Lord St. George. I have -forgotten all about him--all about every one except you, you little -demure sorceress!" - -"Do not forget him, if he is old and a relation." - -"Well, I will write to him to-morrow. It is not much matter; he will -never see my face again." - -"Because you married me?" - -"This is really a very picturesque place," said Ella as they strolled -through the principal street of A----, and ascended the plateau, once -adorned by a cathedral, "but, after all, there is more cheerfulness in -English scenery. I miss the gentlemen's seats, the look of occupation, -the sense of life that springs from individual freedom. Tyranny and want -of cultivation--these are the real 'phantoms of fright.'" - -"Yes; we have never mistaken license for liberty in England," returned -Wilton, with genuine John-Bullism. - -"Thanks to your early training," said Ella, smiling; "but if for -centuries you had never been allowed to stand or walk without -leading-strings, supports, restraints on the right hand and on the left, -and had then been suddenly set free, with all accustomed stays wrenched -from you, do you think you would not have stumbled and fallen like your -neighbors?" - -"True, O queen! but why did not our neighbors begin to train themselves -in time? They are of different stuff; there lies the key to the puzzle." - -"And in the might of circumstance," put in Ella. "You can never thank -Heaven enough for your insular position; but there _is_ something in -race." - -"No doubt of it. Look at this man coming toward us; you could never -mistake him for anything but a Briton." - -"No, indeed!" exclaimed Ella; "and"--drawing a little near to him--"is -it not your cousin, St. George Wilton?" - -"By Jove! you are right, Ella. What can bring him here?" - -The object of their remark was facing them as the colonel ceased to -speak. - -"Ralph Wilton--Miss--" St. George stopped himself in his exclamation, -and then continued, raising his hat with a soft but meaning smile, "I -little thought I should encounter you in this remote region!" - -"Nor I you," returned Wilton, bluntly. "Mrs. Wilton and I have been -staying near this, at a place called Vigères, where there is very -tolerable fishing, and drove over this morning to look at this old town. -What brings you so far from the haunts of men?" - -"The vagaries of an old woman, if it be not too irreverend to say so," -replied St. George, raising his hat again with profound respect as his -cousin pronounced the words "Mrs. Wilton." "I have an aged aunt who, for -some inscrutable reason, chooses to mortify her flesh and spare her -pocket by residing here. I never dreamed I should meet with such a -vision of happiness as--Mrs. Wilton and yourself in this fossilized -place." - -There was just a slight, significant pause before the name "Mrs. -Wilton," which caught her husband's ear, and it sounded to him like a -veiled suspicion. - -"Where are you staying?" he asked. - -"Oh, at the Hôtel du Nord. My aunt wishes the pleasure of a visit from -me, but declines to put me up." - -"We are just going to dine at your hotel," said Colonel Wilton, "and -will be very happy if you will join us." - -St. George accepted his cousin's invitation with his best air of frank -cordiality. It was a very pleasant dinner; nothing could be more -agreeable than the accomplished _attaché_. His tone of cousinly courtesy -to Ella was perfect; his air of well-regulated enjoyment positively -exhilarating. Wilton never thought he should like his kinsman's society -so much. Even Ella warmed to him comparatively, and, though more -disposed to listen than to talk, contributed no small share to the -brightness of the conversation. - -At last it was time to undertake the homeward drive to Vigères, some -four or five miles up and down hill. While waiting for the -remarkable-looking vehicle in which the journey was to be performed, St. -George Wilton found a moment to speak with his cousin alone. - -"And it is a real _bona fide_ marriage, Ralph?" - -"Real as if the Archbishop of Canterbury had performed it, with a -couple of junior officers to help him." - -St. George was silent, and affected to busy himself in preparing a -cigar. Not even his trained self-control could enable him to command his -voice sufficiently to hide the enormous contempt that such a piece of -frantic insanity inspired. - -"So very charming a person as Mrs. Wilton," said he at last, blandly, -"may well excuse the imprudence of a love-match; but let me ask, merely -that I may know how to act, is it an open as well as a _bona fide_ -marriage? I mean, do you wish it concealed from our friend Lord St. -George, because--" - -"Certainly not," interrupted Colonel Wilton. "I have not written to -inform him of it, for he has left my last letter some months unanswered, -and I did not think he cared to hear from me; but, as it is possible he -may fancy I intended to make a secret of my marriage, I will write to -him to-morrow." - -"It is not of much importance," said St. George, checking the dawning of -a contemptuous smile. "Whatever view he takes of the subject will be -inimical to your interests. Suppose I were to call upon him and explain -matters? I start for London to-morrow morning." - -"I will not trouble you," said Wilton a little stiffly; and Ella, -appearing at that moment in the door-way, the conversation took a -different turn. - -"Draw your cloak closer, Ella," said her husband, as they proceeded -homeward under the soft silver of a young May moon at the sober pace -which was their steed's fastest; "there is a tinge of east in the wind. -I began our acquaintance by wrapping you up, and I see I shall always be -obliged to make you take care of yourself." - -"I take care of myself _now_," she replied, nestling nearer to him. "I -did not think your cousin could be so agreeable," she continued. - -"Nor I," said Wilton, shortly. - -"Yet," resumed Ella, "I can never banish my first impression of him." - -"What was it?" - -"That he could always keep faith in the letter and break it in the -spirit; that he could betray in the most polished manner possible, -without ever committing any vulgar error that law or society could -fasten upon." - -"Upon my soul, you have made a very nice estimate of the only member of -your new family with whom you have come in contact. And where, pray, -have you found such well-defined ideas of treachery? I did not think -there was so much of this world's lore in that pretty little head. How -did you learn it?" - -"Ah, treachery is a thing I have often known! The wonder is, as my -father used to say, that, where so many powerful temptations surrounded -us, poor political outcasts, so few proved false." - -"Yet you have not learned to be suspicious, Ella?" - -"Heaven forbid! No one who is _really_ true at heart ever _really_ -learns to be suspicious." - -Wilton fulfilled his intention the following day, and wrote a short, -simple account of his marriage to Lord St. George, regretting that he -should be a source of disappointment to him, and stating that he, of -course, held him quite exonerated from any promise, implied or not, -respecting his property. - -It was _quite_ a relief to him having accomplished this. He had now cut -himself adrift from all chances of social preëminence; it remained to -work up in his profession, and his thoughts naturally turned to India. -Great changes, civil and military, were pending there; his own services -had been recognized by men high in office; already the breath of the -outer world had somewhat withered the loveliness of his Arcadia--it was -time for him to be up and doing. - -"Ella! come here, darling. I am afraid we must go back to London and -common life next week; so let us make an expedition to Mont St. Michel -to-morrow. How does the tide serve?" - -Three or four happy days were spent in visiting the strange -fortress-prison and Old-World picturesque little town of Granville; in -delicious rambles and abundant sketching. Ella was absolutely excited by -the wealth of subjects, all of a new character to her, which offered -themselves for her pencil. But Wilton had exhausted his slender capacity -for repose, and, having thoroughly enjoyed himself, was once more -longing for active life. - -The day but one after their return from this brief expedition, a letter -reached Wilton from the family solicitor. He had been out smoking, and -talking of farming with the landlord; and Ella remarked, as he took the -letter, that he exclaimed, as if to himself, "From old Kenrick! what can -he want?" His countenance changed as he read: and then, throwing down -the letter, he cried, "I wish to Heaven I had written to him before! He -has passed away, doubting me!" - -"Who?" asked Ella, trembling with a sudden apprehension of evil. - -"Poor old St. George!--the old man of whom I have spoken to you." - -"Your marriage has not broken his heart, I trust?" - -"No; I am not sure he had a heart to break. But, Ella, you have turned -pale, my own darling! Do not torment yourself; the living or dying of -every one belonging to me can never affect my happiness with you; you -are worth them all to me. But this letter--here, read it." And, passing -one arm round her, Wilton held out the letter for her to peruse. "You -see," he continued, "Kenrick (he is Lord St. George's solicitor and the -Wiltons' solicitor generally) says he has died suddenly without a will. -I am his heir-presumptive and nearest of kin--the only person entitled -to act or to give directions. We must, therefore, start for London -to-morrow. I will see Monsieur le Propriétaire, and settle with him at -once." - -Ella sighed, and cast one long look out into the garden, where the bees -were humming and the first roses blooming, and away over the variegated, -map-like country beyond, with its distant, dim blue line of sea--a -farewell look at the scene where she had tasted for the first time in a -somewhat sad existence, the divine cup of full, fresh delight; then, -holding her cheek to her husband's kiss, gently disengaged herself and -went away to prepare for turning over a new leaf in the book of life. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -"There is not the slightest use of making any search for a will. I know -there is none. Lord St. George made me carefully destroy the last one he -had executed only the day before his death. Indeed, he had given me -instructions to draw up another so exceedingly inimical to your -interests that I determined to be as slow as possible in carrying out -his intentions. Now, his death intestate has left everything to you, -Colonel Wilton--I beg pardon, my lord." - -So spoke Mr. Kenrick--a grave, well-bred, exceedingly professional -man--as Wilton sat at the opposite side of his knee-hole table in the -well-known office of Kenrick and Cole, Lincoln's Inn Fields, the morning -after his arrival in London. - -"No; I prefer being Ralph Wilton still. I suppose I need not adopt the -title if I do not like? We must remember, Kenrick, that poor St. -George's daughter may be still alive, and may have a host of children." - -"That is certainly possible, though it is a possibility I had wellnigh -forgotten. Forgive me for saying so, but I heartily wish you had been a -little less impetuous. Six weeks' patience would have seen you possessed -of ample means to support your title, and free to choose a wife where -you liked." - -"Ay; but who could foresee the course of events? I could not have acted -a double part with the poor old man, nor could I have postponed my -marriage. In short, there is no use in discussing the question; tell me -what Lord St. George said when he sent for you." - -"I found him," replied the lawyer, "looking terribly ill, although, as -usual, accurately dressed and quite composed. I had, by his directions, -brought with me the will he had executed a few months ago--a will -bequeathing everything to you, Colonel Wilton. His first question was, -'Have you heard that my heir has selected a wife at last?' I replied I -had not; and he went on to say that you had at first concealed your -marriage, but, having met Mr. St. George Wilton, and thinking -concealment no longer necessary, you had written to him. He showed me -your letter, and said he had a visit from your cousin, who gave him a -true version of the affair, with much more that was not flattering, and -need not be repeated. He then made me destroy the will in his presence, -and gave me instructions to prepare another, by which he bequeathed his -large property to the Foundling Hospital, adding a grim jest as to the -probability of some of his own grandchildren profiting by the bequest. I -must say, however, that he seemed principally affected by the apparent -attempt to conceal your marriage." - -"That was never my intention," said Wilton, much disturbed, while he -walked up and down. "But I wish to Heaven I had written to him at once! -The fact is, I knew that I had cut myself off from him completely by my -marriage, and thought it little mattered when I announced it. Then I -forgot to write." - -"And most things, probably," said Mr. Kenrick, with a grave and slightly -compassionate smile. "The next morning my late client was found by -Saunders--his man, who has been so long with him--lying placidly on his -bed, but life was quite extinct. He must have been dead some hours." - -"I cannot tell you, Kenrick, how confoundly sorry I am to have caused -him this annoyance!" - -"His heart had long been in a very weak state," continued the lawyer, -scarcely heeding the interruption; "and his death was certainly -painless. It remains to discover his daughter's children." - -"Or herself," put in Wilton. - -"She is dead--I feel sure of that. I perfectly remember my father -mentioning to me the terrible species of exultation with which Lord St. -George heard that his only child was no more. That must be twenty years -ago. I am under the impression that she left no family. If so, I shall -be pleased to congratulate you, colonel, on a noble inheritance." - -Wilton took another turn to and fro. "I have never been used to wealth -or finery," he said. "If I could dispense with the title, I should not -care much. Tell me--does nothing hang on to the coronet?" - -"Well, I believe the rent of one farm; barely four hundred a year. But -the house in S---- Square belongs to you. It was one of the 'bad' -viscount's purchases; and though the late lord's father paid off the -various mortgages with which it was loaded, he never alienated it from -the direct line." - -"So much the better for me. And now, Kenrick, lose no time in taking -proper steps to discover the daughter's children." - -"I will, of course; but I have a strong idea there are none." - -"Why?" asked Wilton. - -"Because we should have been sure to have heard of them. The father--a -needy foreigner, by all accounts--would never have resisted the -temptation to dip his fingers into such well-filled pockets as those of -Lord St. George; and the application would have been through us, or -referred to us. No, I cannot help thinking Madame or Mrs. de Monteiro -left no children." - -"And I cannot help thinking she has. When is the funeral to take -place?" - -"The day after to-morrow. Meantime, had you not better take up your -residence in S---- Square? The house is yours, and probably everything -in it." - -"No, Kenrick; I could not stand the house, nor could Mrs. Wilton, I am -sure. I shall remain at the hotel where we now are. After the funeral we -must examine the poor old man's letters and papers; we may find some -clue to the real heir among them." - -Meantime an outline of the story began to be told at the clubs and -dinner-tables, now throbbing with the convulsive life of the season. - -To the older members of society the name of Wilton had once been -familiar, but Ralph had little beyond regimental renown and a high -reputation at the Horse Guards. Now, however, that he was supposed to -have inherited the estates as well as the title of Lord St. George, -relatives and connections gathered round him "thick as leaves that fall -in Valambrosa." - -Ella was at first bewildered, as well as surprised, at the numerous -cards and polite inquiries for Lord and Lady St. George, until Wilton -unfolded the whole history for her enlightenment, and expended some bad -language on the annoyance of being thus saddled with a title he could -not support. Still he was sufficiently alive to the necessity of his -position to insist on his wife's supplying herself with proper and -fashionable mourning at the most select milliner's he could find out. -The result delighted him and appalled Ella. The garments were certainly -becoming, but never in her simple life had she seen so much money paid -for clothes. - -The operation of examining the papers and letters of one lately alert -and ready to defend the privacy of his inner life is full of -mournfulness. Even when the deceased has been neither well known nor -loved, there is deep pathos in the silent appeal of death. All the -secrets of the now empty "prison-house" lie bare and at the mercy of a -successor, who may be the last to whom the released tenant would have -exposed them. Although Ralph Wilton was far from being a sentimentalist, -he felt this keenly when, assisted by Mr. Kenrick, he proceeded to -examine the late viscount's escritoire, and various caskets, cabinets, -and jewel-cases, in hopes of finding some trace of his possible -successor. There lay, in profusion, the graceful trinkets bestowed with -lavish hand on his wife and child, exquisite enamels, carved onyx clasps -and brooches, costly fans, old-fashioned _bijouterie_--all the beautiful -artistic trifles which accumulate in an ancient and wealthy family. The -more important jewels were of course kept at the bank, but quantities of -valuable nothings were scattered about the rooms--miniatures of fair -women and lovely children, and one beautiful face in every stage of -development, from an infant peeping out from its rich surrounding of -lace and satin to a stately, gracious demoiselle in court dress. These -portraits were all in rooms and cabinets the most distant, dust-covered, -and evidently rarely opened. All bore somewhere about the frame the -initials E. L. A., sometimes plain, sometimes entwined in a monogram. - -"These are all portraits of Miss St. George," said the lawyer, in the -law tone they both unconsciously adopted. "You can scarcely wonder that -such a marriage should almost have driven her father mad. He hardly -thought royalty good enough for her." - -"What, in Heaven's name, made her throw herself away on a foreigner?" -exclaimed Wilton. "How could she be so mad?" - -"Hum!" said Mr. Kenrick, dryly; "imprudent marriages are always -incomprehensible, except to those that commit them." - -Wilton looked up for a moment, with a flash of indignation in his quick, -brown eyes, which, passing rapidly away, gave place to a good-humored -smile. - -"You are right," said he; "no outsiders can quite judge the force of our -unreasoning reasons. You had better dine with us to-day, and let me -present you to Mrs. Wilton." - -"I imagine she expects you to present me to Lady St. George." - -"You are mistaken. She is utterly indifferent to titles--more -indifferent than I am; but you will dine with us?" - -"I shall be most happy." - -But they sought in vain; no trace existed of the viscount's erring -daughter after the period of her disgraceful marriage. Of private -correspondence very little remained, and it was decided to advertise for -the information they wanted. - -"Let us have some talk with Saunders," suggested Wilton; "he was so much -with Lord St. George that he may be able to give us some clue to what we -want." - -The serious-looking valet was therefore summoned, and the lawyer shortly -explained to him the state of affairs. - -"I believe there was an application of some kind made to my lord -respecting his daughter," said he, slowly and reflectively; "but it was -a long time back--nearly three years ago." - -"Tell us what you know about it," said Wilton. - -"It was in the summer time, just before we left for Scotland that year, -and my lord was not very well, when one morning the hall-porter called -me and said there was a foreign gentleman wanted to see my lord about a -picture. I knew he expected one or two he had bought in Italy, a few -weeks before, to be sent after him--the only thing he seemed to care -about lately was art; so I went and spoke to the gentleman--for, though -he was a queer-looking customer, he did not seem a common fellow. He -spoke a sort of broken French, and said he was Italian (I can speak -French, but not Italian,) and added that he had called to see Lord St. -George about a picture. So, as he seemed quite fit to speak to my lord, -I went and told him. He says, 'Show the fellow up.' I did so, and left -them together. I waited outside, in case my lord should want me, and -presently I heard them thundering at each other in Italian--not that my -lord spoke very loud, but there was that in his voice as would make any -man jump. Presently he rang very sharp; I went in and found him -half-raised in his chair, holding on by the sides as if he would dig his -fingers into them, as white as marble, and his eyes blazing fire. There -was some torn paper lying at his feet, and a picture in an open case on -the floor at a little distance. The foreign chap," continued the valet, -warming into naturalness, "was standing looking at him with a dark frown -on his face--the sort of murderous scowl those Italians can put on--and -I went close up between them, lest he might draw a knife. 'Turn this -scoundrel out!' says my lord; 'and mark him, Saunders; if you ever find -him loitering about the place, hand him over to the police!' With that -the foreigner gave an odd sort of smile, and said a few words in -Italian, hissing them through his teeth. My lord's face changed as he -listened, but he waved his hand toward the door; and the other, with a -deep, low bow, walked out. My lord had a sort of fainting-fit, and I was -a good deal taken up with him, but I kept the picture, thinking the -Italian might come back for it; but he did not. I think it is a -miniature of my lord's daughter, for it is very like all the other -portraits." - -"But the pieces of torn paper," asked the lawyer, quickly--"did you not -by accident see if anything was written on them, and what?" - -"Well, sir, as I was picking them up, I did see that the writing was -English, though a foreign-looking hand; but all I could make out was, -'Your only daughter's only child so soon to be an orphan.' Then my lord -fainted away; and when I looked for them again the stupid girl had swept -them up. I can bring you the picture, if you wish." - -"By all means," said Colonel Wilton; and the man left the room.--"I wish -to Heaven," he continued, "he had kept the letter instead of the -picture! We have portraits enough of the unhappy girl; the letter might -have put us on the track of the heir or heiress. Do you think this -Italian was the husband?" - -"Di Monteiro was, I believe, a Spaniard; but Saunders might mistake -Spanish for Italian; and then the statement in the letter, 'the only -child of his daughter so soon to be an orphan'--that might be by the -death of either father or mother. But, no; it is quite twenty years -since the mother died." - -Here the return of Saunders interrupted the lawyer's conjectures. - -"This is the picture," he said, unfolding it from some silver-paper in -which it was carefully wrapped. The case of dark-purple leather had a -foreign look; on opening it a lovely face, most exquisitely painted, -appeared. It was unmistakably the same as that so frequently represented -in the deserted chambers of the mansion; but changed and saddened and -spiritualized in expression. - -"This is very beautiful," said Wilton, looking long and earnestly upon -it. "Though evidently the same face as the others, there is something -familiar to me in it which the others have not. I can fancy a man daring -a good deal for such a woman as this! However, it brings us no clue. We -must consult some of these wonderful detective fellows and try what can -be done by extensive advertising. You must now feel satisfied that my -poor cousin has left an heir or heiress." - -"Heiress, I trust," replied Kenrick. "A foreign Bohemian, with the -recklessness of poverty, and perhaps Communist principles, would be a -terrible representative of the house of Wilton; a woman would be less -dangerous." - -"Nevertheless, quite as objectionable, unless caught very young; and, -according to your account she must be past twenty. However, we can do no -more to-day; and, by Jove, it is nearly six o'clock! Mrs. Wilton was to -have met me in Kensington Gardens on her return from a visit at Notting -Hill. I shall be scarcely in time to meet her. We dine at seven-thirty, -and shall have the pleasure of seeing you?" - -"I shall be most happy; I am very anxious to have the honor of making -Mrs. Wilton's acquaintance." - -"Well, then, will you be so good as to take charge of this picture? I -see you have your inevitable black bag, and it is rather large for my -pocket. Pray, bring it with you this evening. My wife is a true artist, -and will be charmed with it." - - -In these days of pressing occupation, it was a rich treat to Ella and -Wilton to have an hour or two uninterruptedly together. A visit to some -of the art exhibitions, to the opera, or to a good play, was sufficient -to brighten whole days of comparative loneliness. Ella was eminently -reasonable. She never tormented her husband to know why he was not in -time, or indulged in querulousness if he was compelled to break an -engagement. She knew he regretted it as much as she did, and was -satisfied. - -On this occasion she had waited patiently, sitting under a tree near the -Bayswater Gate for nearly a quarter of an hour before the sight of her -husband's soldierly distinguished figure, approaching rapidly, made her -heart leap for joy. - -"I am late! but I could not help it. And what have you been doing? How -is the benevolent Mrs. Kershaw?" - -"Very well, indeed; but a little indignant because we did not take her -'drawing-rooms,' which were vacant when we came to town, instead of -going to be cheated, as she says, 'up _and_ down' at a hotel." - -"And what did you say?" asked Wilton, drawing his wife's hand through -his arm as they strolled toward town. - -"Oh! I told her you had so much to do, that Melina Villas was too far -away. But, O, dearest Ralph, I really think dear old Diego must have -called there while we were in Normandy. Mrs. Kershaw was out, -unfortunately, but the servant described a 'tall, black-looking -gentleman, who had very little English.' He asked first for Mrs. -Kershaw, and then for me. Now, no one could ask for me but Diego." - -"And, my darling, what is Diego like? is he a gentleman?" asked Wilton, -rather doubtfully. - -"Yes, certainly, a gentleman; but not like you. He wears a velvet -coat--it is charming when it is new; but he has not always money, then -it gets shabby; I have seen it broken at the elbows; and he has a felt -hat, oh! such a beautiful hat at first--but--I fear he sleeps in it -sometimes, for it gets much bent. But, when Diego has his purse full, -and new clothes, he is lovely! I have sketched him when they were new, -and mended them when they were old. He is handsome, like a Salvator-Rosa -brigand. You would think he could kill; and he is really as gentle and -simple as a child. You are much more fierce yourself, Ralph"--looking up -lovingly into his eyes, with very little fear in her own. "How I should -like to see him again!" she continued; "if we meet, you must ask him to -dinner." - -Wilton laughed heartily. - -"If we do meet, I shall; but he will be a curious guest. Let us have our -distinguished cousin, St. George, to meet him." - -"Would it annoy you, Ralph, to have poor Diego to dinner?" - -"No, love; but don't ask him to live with us, I could not stand that." - -"Nor I," said Ella, quietly. - -Talking pleasantly, they enjoyed the sunshine of a lovely afternoon, -till Wilton, looking at his watch, declared they would be late for -dinner, and hailed a hansom. - -It was very gratifying to Wilton to observe the effect produced by Ella -on the sedate Mr. Kenrick, who was an old-young man. Her unconsciousness -of self gave her a high-bred composure; her perfect freedom from -provincialism--the result of having acquired English almost as a foreign -tongue--an air of refinement, and her natural, simple readiness to -listen, only caring to speak when she really had something to say, gave -a charm to her conversation which greatly impressed the cool, -hard-headed man of business. However blind love may be, no man, unless -below the average of intelligence, is so hoodwinked as not to see when -other men think he has a good excuse for his imprudence or not. - -The gentlemen did not sit long after Ella had left them, and, on joining -her, Mr. Kenrick observed, "I have brought the picture, Colonel Wilton, -as it is your pleasure to be so called." - -And he handed a small parcel to Wilton, who, opening it, said, "Look at -this, Ella." - -She was cutting the leaves of a book which Wilton had bought that -morning, and, looking up quickly exclaimed, "Ah! how good of you! you -have found my picture for me. Where did you find it?" - -"Your picture! what do you mean?" he asked. - -"The picture of my mother, which was lost." - -"You are under some mistake. I do not think you ever saw this before." - -"I have seen it all my life; it is my mother's picture." - -"Your mother's!" exclaimed Wilton and the lawyer together; "impossible." - -"Yet it is so. If you raise the frame here, at the side, you can take it -out of the case, and you will find her name at the back--Elizabeth -Louisa Adelaide di Monteiro--mine is formed from her initials of her -Christian name." - -The lawyer and Wilton eagerly obeyed, and found the inscription as she -had described. - -"This is very extraordinary!" exclaimed Wilton. - -"It appears, then," said Mr. Kenrick, "that, by a rare accident, you -have married your own cousin, and Lord St. George's heiress. The title -and estates are united." - -"How? What does he mean?" asked Ella. - -"Tell me, Ella, was Monteiro your father's name?" - -"Yes, one of them. His mother was a wealthy Spanish lady, his father an -Englishman. He was partly brought up in Spain, by his mother's people, -in her name; he was early an orphan, and, I imagine, very extravagant. -Afterward, when immersed in politics, he found it more useful to use his -father's name of Rivers. He was peculiarly averse to mention my mother. -I never knew her family name. Her picture was always a sacred thing. My -father, who might have been a great artist, painted it himself. Now, -tell me, what do your questions mean?" - -Whereupon Wilton, holding her hand in his, told her, as shortly as he -could, the strange story of her mother's marriage and disappearance; of -the displeasure of her grandfather at his (Wilton's) disregard of his -wishes in the choice of a wife; of the consequent destruction of the -will, and the difficulty in which he and Mr. Kenrick found themselves as -regarded the next-of-kin; with a running accompaniment from the lawyer -touching the nature, extent, and peculiarities of the property inherited -by the obscure little heroine of Wilton's railway adventure. - -"All this mine, which ought to have been yours," said Ella, when they -were at last silent; "or, rather, yours through me--I do not seem able -to understand or take it in." - -She pressed her hand to her brow. - -"Dearest, you believed in me, and loved me, when I was desolate and -poor, and utterly insignificant; now I am thankful that I can bring you -wealth; but oh! I gave you most when I gave you my whole heart!" - - -_Extract of a letter to_ VISCOUNT ST. GEORGE, _from_ MAJOR MONCRIEF -_--th Rifles_. - -"I shall certainly be with you on the 12th, if nothing unforeseen -occurs. I feel exceedingly curious to see you in your new home, and to -thank Lady St. George personally for the plenary absolution she has so -kindly extended to me. I confess myself guilty of the cold-blooded -worldliness you lay to my charge, while I acknowledge that few men have -had a better excuse for a piece of extraordinary imprudence. If we were -mere bundles of high-toned emotions, sympathies, and aspirations, -marriages on your system might answer; but, being as we are, much more -animal than spiritual, more self-seeking than sympathetic, is it wise to -act on the impulse of a temporary brain or blood fever, which puts a -certain set of fancies and desires in violent action for a time, only to -be overtaken and swept away by the everlasting flow of every-day wants, -ambitions, and motives, which always run their course, however -excitement may blind us? But I am growing too profound for an old -soldier; the upshot of the argument is that I stand to my opinion in a -general sense; your extraordinary luck in no way touches it. But I most -warmly rejoice in your good fortune; and, though I greatly regret your -quitting the old regiment, I am not surprised that your new position -necessitates the step. Yours is no common story; and I little thought, -when I was 'taken prophetic' the day you 'interviewed' poor old St. -George, that so fair a lot would be the ending of 'Ralph Wilton's -Weird.' - -"Always your sincere friend, -"A. MONCRIEF." - - -THE END. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ralph Wilton's weird, by Mrs. Alexander - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD *** - -***** This file should be named 41740-8.txt or 41740-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/7/4/41740/ - -Produced by Suzanne Shell, Martin Pettit and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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